Chapter 6: The Man in the Walls
Matteo stared at the message for three seconds.
Then he put the phone face-down on the desk.
"He has someone inside," Liana said.
"He's always had someone inside." Matteo moved to the study door and opened it.
The corridor was empty.
He stepped out, looked both ways, then came back in and locked it behind him.
"The question is who and where."
"The cameras in the nursery."
He looked at her.
"Four cameras," she said.
"You showed me the footage on a tablet.
If someone has access to that feed—"
"They saw us find the photograph." He was already moving to the desk, opening a different drawer, pulling out a second phone — older, no case.
"This line is clean.
I use it for nothing else." He dialed.
It rang twice.
"It's me," he said when someone answered.
"I need a full sweep of the estate systems.
Every camera, every access log, every device on the network.
Yes.
Now.
Don't use the main server." He listened for a moment.
"And find me Dorian Voss.
Last known location, last forty-eight hours.
Everything." He ended the call.
Liana had sat back down.
Nico was awake now, looking up at her with the calm, serious expression of a baby who had decided the world was acceptable as long as she was in it.
She gave him her finger.
He held it.
"If Renato knows we found the box," she said, "he'll move on Voss before you can get to him."
"Probably."
"So Voss is either already running or already g*ne."
"Or Renato will use him as a message." Matteo looked at her steadily.
"Which is why you and Nico are not staying in this house tonight."
Liana looked up.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere Renato doesn't know I own." He paused.
"I'll need an hour to arrange it.
Until then, stay in this room.
Don't open the door for anyone except me."
"What about Mrs.
Ferrante?"
"She stays here.
She's safer if she's visible and behaving normally." He moved toward the door again, then stopped.
"Liana.
I need to ask you something."
"Ask."
"The man you were with.
Daniel's father.
Is there any possibility he had a connection to this family?
To Renato?
To anyone in this world?"
She thought about it honestly.
"His name was Paul Graves.
He was an accountant.
We met at a friend's birthday.
He was — ordinary.
Careful.
He kept spreadsheets for fun." She paused.
"But he left suddenly.
No fight, no real explanation.
Just — gone.
I always thought it was because of who I was, what I didn't have.
Now I wonder."
"Do you know where he is?"
"No.
I stopped looking after the first month."
Matteo nodded slowly.
"I'll find him."
"Why?"
"Because Elena's letter said some of what's in that box concerns your son.
Not just his d*ath.
His existence." He met her eyes.
"I think Daniel was connected to this family before either of us knew it.
I think that's why he was a problem to them."
Liana looked down at Nico.
He was still holding her finger, watching her face with that absolute, uncomplicated trust.
"He was three weeks old," she said.
Her voice was quiet.
Not broken.
Just very, very quiet.
"I know."
"He never even—" She stopped.
Started again.
"He was still learning how to eat."
Matteo did not offer comfort.
He did not tell her it would be all right.
He stood in the room with her and let the weight of it be what it was.
That, she found, was more bearable than reassurance would have been.
After a moment she straightened.
"Go do what you need to do.
I'll stay here."
He moved to the door.
His hand was on the lock when she spoke again.
"Matteo." He turned.
"Your wife.
Elena.
She spent eight months trying to protect Nico and she spent some of that time protecting Daniel too, even though she'd never met me." Liana's voice was steady.
"She was a good person."
His hand tightened on the door frame.
Just for a moment.
"Yes," he said.
"She was."
He left.
The lock clicked behind him.
Liana sat in the quiet study with Nico in her arms and the document box open on the desk and the two photographs side by side — the one from under the mattress, and the one of Renato outside the hospital — and she looked at them for a long time.
Then she looked at the USB drive still in the laptop.
She reached over and opened the *Voss* folder again.
She scrolled past the contact sheet, past the photographs, to a subfolder at the bottom that she hadn't seen Matteo open.
It was labeled *Surrogate.*
Her hand hovered over the trackpad.
She clicked.
Inside was one document.
A contract.
Twelve pages, dense legal language, dated twenty-two months ago.
She scrolled to the signature page.
The surrogate's name was printed clearly at the bottom.
Liana Graves.
Her own name.
May you like
Her own signature.
Except she had never signed it.
