Elena
I jolt awake, terror coursing through me even before I remember why.
Then it hits me—Rocco.
My baby is gone.
Adalina and Elio lie curled against each other like puppies, their faces peaceful in sleep.
I check my phone, hoping Luca had called or texted to tell me he’s found Rocco alive and unhurt.
But there’s nothing except a message from Gabriella saying she and Isabella had to return home.
Of course they did.
They have their own babies to attend to.
I slide carefully from bed, making sure not to disturb them.
I head downstairs toward the kitchen, drawn by the need for coffee. I need to be alert when Luca returns. If he returns.
I measure coffee grounds with shaking hands, spilling some onto the marble countertop. The machine hums to life, its soft gurgling the only sound in the large kitchen.
Should I call Luca?
I don’t have news and surely, he’d have called me if he knew anything.
Where is my son sleeping tonight? Is he cold? Scared? Does he understand what's happening?
I grip the edge of the counter until my knuckles are white as what-ifs plague my mind.
If I'd been honest with Luca years ago, would we be here now?
Or would we have been a real family, protected by both Monti and Vitale strength?
My phone vibrates against the counter, making me jump. Unknown number. I answer it hoping for good news, worried it’s a ransom call.
"Mrs. Vitale?" a woman asks. "This is Agent Ricci with the FBI."
My blood turns to ice. The FBI?
"We've located your son, Rocco."
My legs nearly give out as I clutch the counter. "Is he—" I can't finish the question.
"He's alive. Physically unharmed."
Tears of relief flood my eyes. "Where is he?" It’s only now that I’m wondering why the FBI has Rocco. Did Luca inform them?
"That's why I'm calling. We can arrange for you to be reunited. I’d like to meet with you.”
“About what?” Beyond returning my son to me, what’s there to meet about?
"Your world is unsafe, Mrs. Vitale," Agent Ricci says, her voice gentle and concerned. "We can help you and your children escape this life. Give them a normal childhood away from violence and crime. A fresh start with new identities, somewhere the Montis and Vitales can never find you."
I have a sense of déjà vu from when Agent Blackwood cornered me in the grocery store.
“I don’t need your help. What I need is my son.”
“And you can have him, but we need to stop the Vitale family—”
“Wait a minute.” All of a sudden, I realize what she’s doing. “You’ve taken my six-year-old son and are using him as leverage to get me to inform on my family? You’re no better than the monsters you claim to want to protect us from."
"Ms. Vitale, that's not—"
"My son was kidnapped from a public event, terrified and separated from his family, and you're dangling his return like a bargaining chip? How dare you."
"Please understand," Agent Ricci's tone changes, more urgent now. "That's not what I'm doing. I genuinely want to help you and your children be safe. The Bureau has resources—"
"If you truly wanted to help, you'd return my son immediately." My voice breaks. "He's only six years old. He needs his mother."
"Ms. Vitale… Elena,” she starts, probably using my first name to connect with me at a personal level. “Think about your children's future. The Montis, the Vitales—they're not good people. Even Luca Monti—"
"You are not good people either if you're using the return of my kidnapped son to extort information about my family."
"I have no intention of that. You can pick up your son."
“Where?”
She gives me the address of a diner, which seems odd to me. Wouldn’t she have brought Rocco back to her office? Or to a doctor?
Doesn’t matter.
Wherever Rocco is, I’m going to get him. I rush upstairs, changing into jeans and a sweater, my mind racing through possibilities.
Elio and Adalina are still sleeping and I hate to leave them, but I need to trust Luca’s staff to take care of them.
I return downstairs, running into his housekeeper. “Mrs. Piccolo, I have to run out. Can you check on the kids and watch them when they wake? I hate to ask you but—”
“I’ll watch them.” She gives me a sympathetic smile. “I hope little Rocco comes home safe and sound.”
I hurry from the house realizing I don’t have a car here. I ordered a rideshare conveniently around the corner. As the driver takes me to the diner, I work to sort out why an FBI agent has Rocco.
I know of Agent Ricci because Dom has been outspoken in his annoyance of her.
Is she working with Agent Blackwood?
Is this another FBI trick to tear apart La Corona?
If so, I’m falling into it, but what choice do I have?
I need to get my son back.
I realize I need to call Luca. I dial his number and he answers on the first ring.
"Elena."
"FBI called. Agent Ricci. They have Rocco. I'm meeting her at a diner near Washington Square."
"No." His voice turns to steel. "Give me the address, I’ll go.”
“I’m almost there—”
“Elena, it could be a trap.”
“I haven’t committed a crime, so how could they trap me?”
He lets out a frustrated growl. “Rocco didn’t commit a crime either, yet he’s somehow in the FBI’s hands. Wait for me, goddammit.”
"I don't have time to wait!"
"Listen to me." Luca's voice drops lower, more dangerous. "They could be using you to get to all of us.”
I know he’s right, but my son takes precedence over all of that. "I don't care about La Corona politics right now! This is our child!"
"And you think I don't know that? You think I'm not tearing this city apart looking for him? Trust me for once in your life, Elena."
The accusation stings even though he’s not wrong. "That's not fair."
"What's not fair is you still thinking I'd put anything above my children. Stay put. I'm fifteen minutes out."
"Rocco doesn't have fifteen minutes." I look out the window as the car pulls up to the diner. "I'm his mother. I'm going."
"Damn it, Elena!”
"I'm sorry, Luca."
I hang up, cutting off his protests. I exit the car and hurry to the door of the diner.
Once inside, I scan the booths frantically.
Morning regulars sip coffee and read newspapers. Wait staff scurry around clearing tables and taking orders.
Then I see him, Rocco, sitting in a corner booth with a mug of what must be hot chocolate and a coloring book.
"Rocco!" I cry out, not caring who turns to look.
His little head snaps up, eyes widening. "Mommy!"
The world narrows to just him as I rush across the diner, knocking into a waitress carrying plates.
I don't stop to apologize.
My baby is here, alive, safe.
I scoop him into my arms, burying my face in his neck. He's warm and solid against me.
"I missed you, Mommy," he says, his little arms tight around my neck.
"I missed you too, baby. So, so much." Tears stream down my face as I pull back to examine him.
No visible injuries.
His eyes are clear and bright. Relief washes through me.
“Are you mad? I didn’t want to go with the man, but Santa—”
“It’s okay, baby.”
Agent Ricci rises from the booth. “Ms. Vitale, can we talk?”
I frown at her. “I don’t want—”
“Please. I’m not trying to cause trouble. I’m very concerned about what happened here and I’d like to get to the bottom of it. But I need your help.”
My arms tighten around Rocco.
Every instinct screams to grab my son and run, but I need to know what happened, who took Rocco.
So I slide into the booth, keeping Rocco firmly on my lap.
A waitress arrives and sets a plate of pancakes in front of Rocco.
“He was hungry,” Agent Ricci says. “I hope pancakes are okay. He says he has them for breakfast sometimes.”
“It’s fine. Who took my son, Agent Ricci?”
"Santa said he’d take me to see his workshop. But another man who didn’t look like an elf took me to a different place.” Rocco pours way too much syrup on his pancakes, but I don’t comment on it.
I stroke his hair, keeping my voice steady. I don’t want to be alarmed by the panic I feel. "What else happened, sweetheart?"
"The man asked me lots of questions about Daddy and Uncle Dom, but I didn’t know the answers." Rocco scrunches his face. "I told him Daddy is the best and he teaches us Italian words."
Agent Ricci leans forward. "Mrs. Vitale, we need to discuss who might have taken your son and why—"
"I don't think it's wise for me to talk to the FBI," I say, shifting Rocco protectively on my lap. "We should go."
Agent Ricci's expression hardens slightly. "If you're in danger simply from talking to law enforcement, who has recovered your kidnapped son, then you don't live in a safe world for your children."
I meet her gaze steadily. "Don't presume to know what's best for my family.”
"Your son was just kidnapped," she counters. "How is that safe?"
“How do I know you didn’t take him? You and your kind spend a lot of time trying to manipulate us into doing your job for you.”
She sighs. "I'm not actually sure who took Rocco."
This stops me. "What do you mean? You have him."
"I got an anonymous tip."
I slowly sink back into the booth, not understanding what’s going on.
Who is playing games with us?
Why are they using my son?
"Can you tell me exactly what happened at the festival?" Ricci asks, pulling out a small notebook.
I keep one arm around Rocco while he eats, scanning the diner for threats. "Santa—or someone dressed as Santa—offered to show Rocco his sleigh. At least that’s what my other children said.”
“He did,” Rocco confirms. “And he said he’d take me to the workshop.”
I kiss Rocco’s head. How is he so calm after his ordeal? “By the time we realized he was missing, they were gone."
"Did you notice anyone unusual at the festival? Anyone watching your family?"
I think back, trying to remember faces in the crowd. "No. But there were hundreds of people there."
"And your son is Luca Monti's child? The new Don of the Monti family?"
"Yes," I answer cautiously, worried how she might twist that into something to use against him. "Though that's only recently become public knowledge."
"Interesting timing," she notes, writing something down.