Chapter 6 - THE HOUSE WHERE NOBODY WAS SAFE
Dominic owned a mansion on Chicago's North Shore.
Thirty rooms.
A swimming pool.
A private library.
And enough security cameras to make the average person feel as though they'd moved into an airport.
I hated it immediately.
Not because it was ugly.
It was beautiful.
That was the problem.
Every polished hallway reminded me that beauty could hide danger just as easily as a cheap roadside motel.
After investigators warned that Oliver remained at risk, Rebecca helped arrange temporary protective accommodations.
The arrangements were documented, and child-protection authorities continued supervising Oliver's legal status.
Dominic offered to host us at his home.
I agreed reluctantly, under conditions.
I needed my own room.
I needed access to my attorney.
Nobody could enter Oliver's nursery without permission except in an emergency.
And I would not be prevented from leaving.
Dominic accepted.
His head of household, Mrs. Bellamy, looked astonished when I arrived and immediately asked where the fire exits were.
I didn't care.
Four months of sleeping in motels had taught me to check exits before admiring furniture.
On the first morning, I found three different brands of formula arranged on the kitchen counter.
Beside them stood six bottles.
Two sterilizers.
A baby-food processor.
And what appeared to be a machine designed specifically to warm wet wipes.
I stared.
Mrs. Bellamy entered.
"Mr. Farrow ordered everything the child might need."
I picked up the wipe warmer.
"Does he think Oliver is royalty?"
She hesitated.
"Essentially."
I sighed.
"Tell him he needs diapers, food, sleep, and people who don't frighten him. Not an entire department store."
Mrs. Bellamy smiled.
It was the first genuine smile I'd seen from anyone in that house.
Dominic came downstairs at eight.
He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
His hair was still damp.
For a moment, he looked less like a mafia boss and more like a tired man on his way to work.
Then he saw Oliver sitting in a high chair.
The baby grinned.
Dominic stopped.
"Does he always do that?"
I looked up.
"What?"
"Smile when he sees me."
"Sometimes."
He looked absurdly pleased.
I handed him a clean spoon.
"Here."
He stared.
"What am I supposed to do with that?"
"Feed your nephew."
Dominic looked at the baby.
Then at the spoon.
"He's already eating."
"Very observant."
I placed a small bowl of mashed banana beside him.
He sat.
For five minutes, he treated the procedure with the concentration of a man negotiating an international shipping contract.
Then Oliver grabbed the spoon.
Banana hit Dominic's shirt.
Silence.
Mrs. Bellamy froze.
I held my breath.
Dominic looked down.
Then at the baby.
Oliver laughed.
And Dominic began laughing too.
I had heard stories about him.
Men disappearing.
Deals made in locked rooms.
A ruthless temper.
But nobody had ever told me that the Undertaker of Chicago's criminal underworld could be defeated by six ounces of mashed fruit.
That afternoon, I received another anonymous message.
YOU ARE NOT SAFE IN FARROW'S HOUSE.
Attached was a photograph.
Oliver asleep in the nursery.
Taken from inside the room.
My stomach dropped.
I ran upstairs.
Oliver was still sleeping.
The windows were locked.
The door was closed.
Nothing looked disturbed.
But somebody had photographed him.
Inside Dominic's house.
Despite the guards.
Despite the cameras.
I carried Oliver downstairs and found Dominic in his office.
He took one look at my face.
"What happened?"
I showed him the message.
His expression changed instantly.
He called his security director, Marcus Reed.
"Lock down access to the nursery footage. Preserve every recording and system log. Nobody deletes anything."
Then he turned toward me.
"Is Oliver safe?"
"For now."
My voice shook.
"But someone got into his room."
Dominic looked toward the staircase.
For the first time, I saw fear overwhelm his composure.
Not anger.
Fear.
Then I asked the question neither of us wanted to answer.
"Dominic, who in this house knew which room we were using?"
He didn't reply.
May you like
Because the list was short.
And every name belonged to someone he trusted.
