"Luca—"
"Stay. Here."
I found Marco in the security room, expression grim. He handed me an envelope. "Slid under the emergency exit. Camera seven was disabled for forty-five seconds."
Inside—a photograph and a note.
The image showed Sienna in our underground apartment, asleep in my bed. Curled on her side, one hand over her stomach. The timestamp: 2:47 a.m. Just over an hour ago.
My blood turned to ice.
Someone had accessed our internal security feed. Used our own cameras against us.
The note was in Giuseppe's handwriting:She looks pale. Pregnancy can be so... delicate. You have one hour to call me, or the next image won't come from your security cameras.
I crumpled the note, fury overriding ice.
"Are you going to call him?" Marco asked carefully.
"No. He wants me panicked, making desperate moves." I threw the note aside. "Get me Francesco's location. And find out who had access to our security feed in the last six hours."
"Security feed requires dual authentication. Only five people have it: you, me, Angelo, Francesco, and Dante."
"Francesco."
"He logged in at 2:34 a.m. Thirteen minutes before the screenshot."
"At 2:34 when his shift doesn't start until six?" The pieces clicked. "He wasn't checking cameras. He was giving Giuseppe access."
"We don't have proof—"
"We have enough. Bring him in. Quietly."
Francesco had suggested the current security protocols. Recommended camera placements. Volunteered for system updates. Not incompetence—infiltration from the beginning.
"What about Mrs. Romano?"
"I'll handle Sienna."
I returned to find Sienna where I'd left her, arms crossed, expression wary.
"What happened?"
I considered lying. Considered shielding her.
Instead, I handed her the photograph.
She took it, face draining of color. "How—"
"Someone inside gave them access. Giuseppe's making his move." I kept my voice steady. "The note was in his handwriting. He wants you. And the baby."
"He'd threaten his own niece?"
"Family means nothing to men like him. You're a means to an end." I moved closer. "Which is why we stay put. Trust no one except Marco and Angelo. And wait for him to overplay his hand."
"They want our child," she said softly, hand moving to her stomach. "A Romano-Moretti heir would be the ultimate bargaining chip."
"They'll have to go through me first," I said, the promise absolute.
