Chapter 3 - C-17 and the Photograph Hidden Beneath the FloorThe SUV followed them for eleven blocks.
Vincent didn't mention it.
Charlotte noticed anyway.
“My mother told me to watch cars.”
Vincent glanced at her in the rearview mirror.
“She taught you well.”
He made three unnecessary turns.
The SUV followed every one.
Marcus called.
“Boss.”
“I know.”
“They're still behind you.”
“How many?”
“One vehicle.”
“License?”
“Stolen.”
Vincent sighed.
“Get ahead of us.”
Five minutes later, Marcus's SUV appeared.
The black SUV disappeared at the next intersection.
But Vincent knew it hadn't left.
It had simply changed position.
The freight terminal was abandoned.
Rust covered the old gates.
Broken windows reflected the snow.
Vincent parked beneath a concrete overhang.
Charlotte looked at the building.
“This place is scary.”
“It is.”
“Did Dominic come here?”
“Yes.”
“How often?”
Vincent didn't answer.
Instead he led her down a stairwell.
Three floors underground.
At the bottom, an old metal corridor stretched into darkness.
C-17 was marked on a faded door.
Vincent inserted the brass key.
Nothing happened.
He tried again.
Then he noticed a hidden keypad beneath the dust.
Dominic had been paranoid.
The key wasn't the lock.
It was the code.
He turned it.
C.
The door opened.
Inside was a room frozen in time.
Boxes.
Documents.
A desk.
Photographs.
And an old tape recorder.
Charlotte walked toward it.
“That's like mine.”
Vincent looked.
The same model.
The same red ribbon.
She picked it up.
A photograph fell behind it.
She lifted it.
Her face went pale.
The picture showed a hospital room.
A woman.
A baby.
Dominic.
And another man.
Christopher Vale.
Charlotte stared.
“That's my mom.”
Vincent stared at Christopher.
His dead friend.
His supposedly murdered enemy.
The man's hand rested on a newborn baby's blanket.
Written on the bottom of the photograph:
Charlotte Hayes — three hours old.
Vincent's heart pounded.
He turned the photograph over.
A message.
If anything happens to us, she belongs to Charlotte's truth—not Orpheus.
Vincent's phone rang.
Marcus.
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
“Mercer is at the old hospital.”
“Which one?”
“St. Catherine's.”
Vincent looked at the photograph.
Of course.
He grabbed the recorder.
“We're going.”
Charlotte followed.
The drive took twenty minutes.
St. Catherine's had been abandoned for years.
The maternity wing was closed.
The windows were boarded.
The halls smelled of mold.
They found Mercer in the records room.
He was burning files.
Vincent raised his gun.
“Step away.”
Mercer turned.
“Vincent.”
“Hands where I can see them.”
Mercer smiled.
“You don't understand what you're doing.”
“You tried to take the recorder from a child.”
“I was protecting the family.”
“Which family?”
Mercer looked at Charlotte.
“That one.”
Vincent stared.
“What did you do here?”
Mercer remained silent.
Marcus grabbed him.
Vincent searched the room.
A wall safe.
He opened it.
Inside was a birth certificate.
Charlotte Hayes.
Mother: Evelyn Vale.
Father: Christopher Vale.
But there was another document.
An adoption transfer.
No.
Not adoption.
A transfer of guardianship.
Signed by Dominic Romano.
Three days after Charlotte's birth.
Vincent stared.
“Dominic took custody.”
Mercer finally spoke.
“He was protecting her.”
“From whom?”
“Christopher.”
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Because Christopher had found out.”
“What?”
Mercer looked at Charlotte.
“That her bloodline was the key.”
“To what?”
“Orpheus.”
Charlotte whispered, “I don't understand.”
Mercer laughed.
“The girl is not just Christopher Vale's daughter.”
Vincent stiffened.
“What else is she?”
Mercer looked toward the broken ceiling.
“She is Angelo Moretti's granddaughter.”
Vincent stopped breathing.
“My grandfather?”
Mercer nodded.
“Christopher was not her biological father.”
Silence.
Charlotte stared at him.
“Then who is?”
Mercer smiled.
“You.”
Vincent's blood froze.
“What?”
Mercer shook his head.
“Not you.”
He looked at Charlotte.
“Your father is Dominic Romano.”
Vincent's eyes widened.
“No.”
Mercer continued.
“Dominic and Evelyn had a child together before Evelyn married Christopher.”
Vincent looked at Charlotte.
The world seemed to tilt.
“That's impossible.”
Mercer nodded toward the birth certificate.
“That's why she was renamed Charlotte Hayes.”
“Who changed her records?”
“Your father.”
Vincent's voice became dangerous.
“My father was dead.”
“Not when the records changed.”
Mercer smiled.
“That's the secret.”
The lights went out.
Gunfire erupted.
Marcus shouted.
Vincent grabbed Charlotte and dragged her behind a concrete desk.
Bullets struck the wall.
Someone had entered.
Mercer ran.
Vincent fired once.
A window shattered.
Then silence.
Vincent turned to Charlotte.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
He checked her anyway.
Then she asked:
“Was Dominic my father?”
Vincent couldn't answer.
He remembered Dominic's voice.
She is the daughter of the woman we thought was dead.
Not:
She is Christopher's daughter.
The wording suddenly mattered.
Vincent picked up the second recorder.
“Let's hear what Dominic didn't want us to hear.”
They returned to C-17.
The recorder began automatically.
Dominic's voice filled the room.
“Vincent, if you're hearing this, you've found the hospital records.”
He paused.
“I owe you the truth.”
The recording continued.
“Charlotte is my daughter.”
Charlotte's eyes filled with tears.
“But Christopher was the man who loved her enough to pretend she was his.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
Dominic continued.
“I asked Christopher to take her and Evelyn away.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew Orpheus would eventually discover that the child carried something they needed.”
A pause.
“Her blood.”
Vincent looked confused.
“Not literally,” Dominic said.
“Charlotte inherited something from my father.”
“What?”
“The access key.”
Vincent stared at the recorder.
“To Orpheus.”
The recording ended.
But another file activated.
Dominic's voice became frightened.
“If you're hearing this, Bell has found Charlotte.”
Vincent froze.
Bell.
Arthur Bell.
The man he thought had died with Dominic.
The recorder clicked.
May you like
And then Dominic whispered:
“He isn't dead either.”
Related Stories
