Chapter 4 - The Safehouse on the Sound
The Caruso estate in Cold Spring Harbor was not a home; it was a fortress disguised as a nineteen-twenties Gatsby-era mansion.
Perched high on a rocky bluff overlooking the gray, churning waters of the Long Island Sound, the property was surrounded by a twelve-foot stone wall topped with razor wire, thermal cameras, and armed guards patrolling with Belgian Malinois attack dogs.
By 4:00 a.m., Sarah was laid out on a real medical bed in a private ground-floor suite that had been converted into a state-of-the-art trauma station.
A private physician—a quiet, sharp-eyed woman named Dr. Evelyn Zhang—was stitching Sarah’s torn wound shut while an IV pump delivered high-grade antibiotics and painkillers into her vein.
"You're a very lucky young woman," Dr. Zhang said, tying off a black suture line with practiced ease. "Another half-inch to the left, and that shoulder round would have severed your subclavian artery. You would have bled to death in the ballroom before the ambulance arrived."
"I don't feel very lucky," Sarah murmured, watching the IV fluid drip slowly in the dim light.
The bedroom door pushed open, and Toby rushed in.
"Sarah!"
The fourteen-year-old boy threw his arms around her, careful not to hit her injured left shoulder. He was crying, his face buried in her neck. "They told me you got hit by a truck! They said you were in surgery! I was so scared!"
Sarah wrapped her right arm around her brother, holding him as tight as she could, tears finally spilling down her pale cheeks. "I’m okay, Toby. I’m okay. Look at me... I’m right here."
Toby pulled back, looking around the luxurious room, his eyes wide with confusion. "Sarah... who are these people? Why are there guys with guns outside my bedroom? Who is that man?"
He pointed toward the doorway.
Lorenzo Caruso was standing in the threshold, watching them in silence. He had changed into a clean dark suit, his hands tucked into his trousers pockets.
"Toby," Sarah said softly, smoothing her brother’s dark hair. "This is Mr. Caruso. He’s... he’s the owner of the company that hired me for the event."
"He saved my life, kid," Enzo said, stepping into the room. His voice was lower, gentler than Sarah had ever heard it. "And because your sister protected my family, my family is going to protect yours. For as long as it takes."
Toby looked between Enzo and Sarah, sensing the massive, unsaid truths floating in the air, but he nodded slowly, clutching a box of test strips Enzo’s men had brought him earlier.
"Marco," Enzo called toward the hallway. "Take Toby to the kitchen. Have the chef make him whatever he wants. Pancakes, ice cream, anything."
"Come on, kid," Marco said, leaning into the room with a rare, small smile. "Let's go see if the chef can make chocolate chip waffles at four in the morning."
Toby looked at Sarah, who gave him an encouraging nod. "Go on, Toby. I’ll be right here."
Once the door clicked shut, leaving only Sarah, Enzo, and Dr. Zhang, the atmosphere in the room shifted back to cold, heavy reality.
Dr. Zhang packed her medical bag, bowed slightly to Enzo, and exited without a word.
Enzo pulled a chair up to the side of Sarah’s bed and sat down. He laid a thick red folder on her blanket.
"What is that?" Sarah asked, her voice raspy from the painkillers.
"Intelligence," Enzo said. "My men spent the last three hours tearing apart every hideout Dominic Moretti owned in the tri-state area. We found something interesting."
He opened the folder, revealing a series of surveillance photographs.
The photos showed an older man with silver hair, a heavy gold watch, and a sharp, cruel face. He was sitting at an outdoor cafe in Naples, Italy, talking to a younger man whose face made Sarah’s breath catch in her throat.
It was the faux waiter from the ballroom.
"That is Dominic Moretti," Enzo said, pointing at the older man. "And the man beside him is his youngest son, Julian. The man who tried to kill Leo."
Sarah stared at the photo of the young man. "He... he looked so calm right before he pulled the gun. Like he was just doing a job."
"He was," Enzo said coldly. "Dominic Moretti lost his two eldest sons three years ago during our war in Brooklyn. He sent his last living son to take mine. An eye for an eye. A son for a son."
Enzo leaned closer, his dark eyes reflecting the soft warm light of the bedside lamp.
"Dominic Moretti didn't act alone, Sarah. Someone in Manhattan gave Julian access to the Halston Hotel’s high-security floor. Someone gave him a hotel employee uniform, a security keycard, and the exact floor plan of the ballroom."
Sarah frowned, her mind racing despite the dull haze of the painkillers. "Your security... your men checked the staff list."
"Yes," Enzo said softly. "Which means the traitor isn't just an insider at the hotel. The traitor is inside my own organization."
Sarah looked at him, horror mounting in her chest. "Inside your organization?"
"Only five people outside my immediate circle knew Leo was coming to that gala," Enzo said, his voice dropping into a register that sent a chill down her spine. "One of my top lieutenants sold my son's life to Dominic Moretti."
"Who?" Sarah asked, her heart pounding against her ribs.
May you like
Enzo stood up, his face hardening into an unreadable mask of stone.
"That," Enzo said, "is what you are going to help me find out."
