“The baby is just business, Mr. Rossi,” Evan said, straightening his collar with slow, deliberate movements. “A very lucrative one.”

I looked back at the small monitor on the wall, the screen still showing the empty hallway outside the nursery.

The heavy oak door was slightly ajar now, a sliver of darkness showing from the inside of the baby’s room.

“We have to go,” I said, grabbing Lorenzo’s sleeve. “Leo is alone in there. Angela is still drugged.”

Lorenzo gripped his weapon, his face set in a mask of pure fury.

“You’re coming with us,” Lorenzo told Evan, pointing the barrel of the gun directly at the assistant’s chest. “If my son is harmed, you won’t leave this estate alive.”

“I wouldn’t recommend going up there unprepared,” Evan said, though he didn’t resist as Lorenzo grabbed his arm.

We left the server room, our footsteps echoing against the concrete floor of the basement.

The air in the subterranean corridor was cold and smelled of damp earth and old pipes.

Lorenzo pushed Evan ahead of us, the gun pressed firmly into the small of the assistant’s back.