Chapter 4 - Whispers in the Tunnel
The air inside the secret passage was cold, damp, and smelled strongly of aged brick and old dust. The woman descended the iron stairs as fast as her bare feet could carry her, shivering in her thin pink robe. She could hear the muffled thuds of combat happening directly above her head.
The baby stirred in her arms, letting out a small whimper. "Shh, sweet boy... stay quiet," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Your papa is fighting for us."
She had only been hired three days ago as a night wet-nurse under strict secrecy, brought in because the official medical staff claimed the Rossi heir could not keep any milk down. But the moment she had held the frail, crying infant, her maternal instinct told her otherwise. He wasn't sick; he was starving. And now, that simple observation had plunged her into the heart of a bloody war.
At the bottom of the stairs, a narrow corridor stretched out into the darkness. It was an old escape tunnel built during Prohibition, leading away from the main estate toward the riverbank half a mile away.
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Suddenly, she heard heavy, rapid footsteps coming down the iron stairs behind her.
She froze, her blood running cold. She pressed herself against the cold brick wall, pulling her pink robe tightly around the newborn to hide his bright yellow blanket. She held her breath, praying that whoever was coming down was the man in the dark suit, and not a killer sent to finish the job.
