Chapter 3 - THE LOCKDOWN AT TRIBECA
At 3:15 AM, the forty-eight-million-dollar duplex penthouse in Tribeca was placed under an iron military quarantine.
Matteo pressed the emergency sovereign lockdown button beneath his desk. Heavy titanium security shutters slammed down over every panoramic window, sealing the sixty-story tower from the outside world. The private elevator banks were deactivated, locked to biometric executive override only.
Sixteen heavily armed tactical operators from Matteo’s personal guard—men who answered only to his bloodline—fanned out along the marble corridors, weapons held at low-ready.
The heavy mahogany double doors of the penthouse opened.
Stepping into the grand foyer, wearing an elegant cream silk evening gown and diamond jewelry, was Sofia Varric—Matteo’s thirty-eight-year-old younger sister and the executive chairwoman of the Varric Charitable Trust.
Beside her walked Dr. Nolan Price, carrying his leather medical kit, looking exhausted and annoyed.
"Matteo, what is the meaning of this emergency alert?" Sofia demanded, her heels clicking sharply across the white marble floor. "The security console sent a Code Red to my townhouse. We were in the middle of a private foundation dinner with the trust trustees."
Dr. Price adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, nodding in agreement. "Mr. Varric, I brought specialized pediatric sedative formulations. If Nico is still experiencing panic episodes, we need to administer an intramuscular dose immediately before his vitals crash."
From the top of the grand curved staircase, a soft, slow sound echoed down into the foyer.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Matteo descended the stairs with slow, measured, predatory grace. He wore a crisp black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, his Kimber .45 holstered openly on his hip.
Behind him walked Liana Graves.
She was no longer wearing the red maid’s uniform. She wore a dark cashmere sweater and trousers, carrying nine-month-old Nico securely against her chest.
Nico was wide awake, his cheeks glowing pink and healthy, his dark eyes bright, resting his head calmly against Liana’s shoulder without a single tear.
Sofia froze on the marble floor. Her eyes darted from the calm child to Liana’s face, and for a fraction of a second, a flicker of naked, cornered terror flashed behind her eyes before she forced a condescending smile.
"Matteo," Sofia laughed nervously. "Why is that cleaning girl still holding your son? Dr. Price needs to examine him."
Matteo reached the bottom landing, stopping five feet from his sister.
"Dr. Price won't be examining anyone tonight, Sofia," Matteo said softly.
He pulled the plastic blue hospital band from his pocket and tossed it onto the glass coffee table between them.
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The band landed with a sharp, plastic slap: INFANT MALE GRAVES — BORN OCTOBER 14.
Dr. Nolan Price took half a step backward, his face draining of all color, his leather medical kit slipping from his fingers, crashing heavily onto the marble.
