chapter 3
1121 Words
The gala was still alive with music and conversation when Mrs. DeLuca stepped toward the side door, scanning the room for her son. Mario had promised to return before her speech, and she trusted him he wasn’t the kind of child who wandered off for long.
But it had been twenty minutes.
Then thirty.
Her fingers tightened around the microphone as she whispered to her husband, Where’s Mario? Has anyone seen him?
Mr. DeLuca frowned and looked around. He was outside getting air. He should be back.
But he wasn’t.
Mrs. DeLuca leaned toward one of the security guards. Please check the garden. Now
The guard nodded and disappeared through the crowd.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
The guard did not return.
Mrs. DeLuca’s heart began to pound. She clutched her husband’s arm. Something’s wrong.
Before he could respond, the guard rushed back inside. His expression was tight.
Sir… ma’am… your son isn’t in the garden.
What do you mean? Mr. DeLuca asked sharply. Did you check everywhere?
Yes. The door he used is locked from the inside. We checked all the paths. No sign of him.
Mrs. DeLuca felt the room tilt slightly. Call the rest of the team, she said urgently. Search the entire property.
Security spread out immediately, some to the gates, others to the halls, others to the garden. Guests began to whisper now, sensing the tension.
Mrs. DeLuca tried calling Mario’s phone.
Straight to voicemail.
Where is he? she whispered, her voice trembling for the first time in years.
Outside, security lights swept across the snowy grounds as guards moved quickly, checking corners, bushes, and walkways. One guard spotted fresh footprints in the snow, leading toward the lower driveway.
Another guard shouted, Over here!
Everyone rushed toward the sound.
Beside the driveway was a patch of disturbed snow with multiple footprints, as if several people had been standing there. Tracks led onto the road, disappearing into the blur of tire marks and fresh snowfall.
Mr. DeLuca stared at the marks, his face tightening in response. This doesn’t look like a child wandering off.
A horrible thought began forming in his mind.
Mrs. DeLuca’s voice cracked as she asked, Do you think… Someone took him?
No one answered.
No one had to.
The silence said everything.
Mr. DeLuca stood in the center of the room, phone pressed to his ear, voice low and tense.
This is an emergency, he told the police dispatcher. My son is missing. His name is Mario DeLuca. He disappeared from our property during the gala.
Officers were dispatched immediately.
Mrs. DeLuca approached her husband, eyes glossy with fear. The police are coming, right? Tell me they’re coming.
They’re already on their way.
She nodded shakily, wrapping her arms around herself like she was suddenly freezing.
Within twenty minutes, the mansion’s front entrance opened to flashing red and blue lights. Police officers stepped inside with calm urgency, taking notes, asking questions, and separating staff for statements.
Detective Rina Ashford,known for her sharp instincts and steady voice, approached the DeLuca parents gently.
I’m Detective Ashford. I know this is frightening, but we need clear information. When was the last time you saw Mario?
Mr. DeLuca explained everything: the busy gala, Mario asking for fresh air, the side door, the missing child, the locked door afterward, and the strange footprints outside.
Detective Ashford listened without interrupting. When he finished, she asked, Did you notice any unfamiliar vehicles on your property tonight?
Mrs. DeLuca hesitated. Mario mentioned something earlier… but I didn’t hear him clearly.
A security guard stepped forward. Ma’am, I reviewed the exterior cameras. At approximately 6:52 PM, a black van parked briefly along the lower driveway. It was there for only a short moment.
Detective Ashford’s eyes sharpened. Did it belong to a guest?
No, Detective. It had no event sticker. It drove off a few minutes later.
And nobody reported this earlier? she asked.
The guard looked embarrassed. The driveway cameras were partly blocked by the incoming traffic for the gala.
Detective Ashford exhaled slowly. We may be looking at an a*******n.
Mrs. DeLuca’s knees weakened. She sank into a nearby chair, covering her mouth. No… no, please…
Her husband knelt beside her. We’ll find him, he whispered, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his fear.
Police spread out across the property, searching every room, every hallway, every inch of the garden and yard. Guests were interviewed. Staff members were questioned one by one.
Reporters at the gate shouted questions that echoed through the night sky:
Is it true the DeLuca boy is missing?
Have the kidnappers made contact?
Is this an attack on the family?
Mr. DeLuca ordered security to block the press, but rumors spread like wildfire.
By midnight, the mansion once glowing with celebration had become a storm of fear, shouting, and hurried footsteps.
Detective Ashford returned to the parents, notebook in hand.
We’ve gathered all the evidence we can for now,she said. The footprints suggest at least two people were waiting outside. The van’s brief appearance is suspicious but not confirming anything yet. We’re checking all nearby traffic cameras.
When will we hear something?Mr. DeLuca asked, frustration and fear mixing in his voice.
We will alert you immediately. But I need to ask
She paused, choosing her words carefully.
Do you have any enemies? Anyone who might want to hurt your family?
The question landed heavily.
Mr. DeLuca opened his mouth then stopped.
Mrs. DeLuca’s eyes widened, searching his face. What is she talking about? Enemies?
He took a slow breath. Rina… this is not the time
This is exactly the time, Detective Ashford insisted. Kidnappings are rarely random. Someone who takes a child usually has a reason.
Mrs. DeLuca’s heartbeat thundered in her chest. …Is there something you haven’t told me?
Mr. DeLuca closed his eyes for a moment. Not now. Please.
But Detective Ashford didn’t look convinced.
Sir, the faster we understand your background, the faster we find your son.
Mrs. DeLuca stared at her husband, fear turning into something sharper, something that looked suspiciously like doubt.
Hours passed.
Officers searched the roads. Helicopters hovered above the city. Every police unit received Mario’s description.
Inside the mansion, the parents sat together in the silent living room.
The gala hall was empty now.
The decorations still sparkled, but the joy was gone. The music had stopped. Plates of untouched food sat cold on the tables.
The house felt colder than the snowy night outside.
Mrs. DeLuca whispered, voice barely audible, He must be so scared.
Mr. DeLuca swallowed hard. We’ll bring him home.
But neither of them slept.
Neither of them spoke much after that.
Because in the pit of their stomachs, they both felt it.
- Writer
