Chapter 4 - Mark Vega Was Not the Man I Remembered
St. Vincent’s Hospital had three security guards at the entrance.
Four more waited near the elevators.
Vincent didn’t explain why.
He didn’t need to.
The moment we walked through the doors, people looked away.
Mark was on the sixth floor.
His condition was stable.
His injuries were severe.
He had been beaten, starved, and left in an abandoned warehouse.
When I entered the room, I almost didn’t recognize him.
His hair was longer.
His face thinner.
There were bruises along his jaw.
One eye was swollen almost shut.
But when he saw me, he whispered my name.
“Sarah.”
I stopped.
For eleven months I had imagined this moment.
In some versions, I slapped him.
In others, I cried.
In one, I simply walked away.
Instead, I stood frozen.
He stared at Lily.
“Is that…”
“Yes.”
His eyes filled.
“My God.”
Lily hid behind my leg.
“Daddy?”
Mark began crying.
I hated him for making me feel sorry for him.
“You left us.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“You disappeared.”
“I was taken.”
“You could have called.”
“They were watching every phone.”
“Who?”
He looked past me.
At Vincent.
Mark’s expression became terrified.
“Moretti.”
Vincent stepped into the room.
“You know my name.”
Mark swallowed.
“I know what happened to Isabella.”
Vincent’s face hardened.
“Then tell me.”
Mark looked at me.
“No.”
Vincent moved closer.
“Tell me.”
Mark shook his head.
“They will kill her.”
“Who?”
“The people who hired me.”
Silence.
I whispered, “You worked for them.”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“Transfers.”
“Money?”
“Yes.”
I stepped back.
“You lied to me.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“You left me alone with a child.”
“I thought they would forget about you.”
Vincent interrupted.
“They never forget witnesses.”
Mark closed his eyes.
“There was a ledger.”
Vincent went still.
“The missing ledger?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t have it.”
Vincent’s voice turned cold.
“Who does?”
Mark looked at Lily.
That terrified me.
“What does my daughter have to do with this?”
Mark whispered.
“She drew the symbol.”
I felt my heart pounding.
“How?”
“She saw it before I disappeared.”
“Where?”
“In my office.”
“You had an office?”
“I told you I worked in shipping.”
Mark looked ashamed.
“I lied about almost everything.”
I stared at him.
“Then tell me the truth now.”
He looked at Vincent.
“I found the ledger seven years ago.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“How?”
“Isabella hid it.”
The room seemed to stop.
Mark continued.
“She knew somebody inside Moretti’s organization was selling names. She created a copy of the ledger and hid it.”
“Where?”
“She didn’t trust a safe.”
Vincent leaned closer.
“What did she trust?”
“A child.”
I frowned.
“A child?”
Mark nodded.
“Her daughter.”
Vincent’s face changed.
His eyes moved to Lily.
“That’s impossible.”
Mark looked at him.
“No.”
He whispered, “Isabella had a daughter.”
I felt the world tilt.
“Who?”
Mark looked directly at me.
“You.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“You were twenty-three.”
“I didn’t know her.”
“You met her once.”
“No.”
He described a wedding.
A charity event.
A woman in a blue dress.
A little girl holding a red crayon.
My mind raced.
I remembered.
I had been working temporary catering jobs then.
I remembered a woman sitting alone outside.
She had spoken to me.
She had asked me to watch her daughter for five minutes.
I had forgotten her face.
But I remembered the red crayon.
“Oh my God.”
Vincent stepped back.
“You knew Isabella?”
“I didn’t know her name.”
Mark whispered.
“She gave you something.”
I searched my memory.
“What?”
“A drawing.”
My hands started shaking.
Vincent stared at me.
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
Mark said, “Your daughter has it.”
I looked down.
Lily was holding her stuffed rabbit.
I knelt.
“Lily, sweetheart. What did Auntie give Mama?”
Lily frowned.
Then she pointed to her rabbit.
I picked it up.
Something felt wrong.
The rabbit was heavier than it should have been.
I opened the seam beneath its ear.
Inside was a small metal key.
Vincent stared at it.
Mark began crying.
“That’s it.”
“What is it?”
“The key to Isabella’s vault.”
Vincent took the key.
A tiny bird was engraved on its head.
The same bird Lily drew.
The same red circle.
Vincent’s hand trembled.
“My sister gave this to you.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
“To Lily.”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Mark’s voice cracked.
“She knew someone would eventually find you.”
I looked at my daughter.
She had no idea what she was carrying.
A two-year-old child had unknowingly walked into the most dangerous house in the city carrying the key to a secret that powerful men had killed for seven years.
Then the hospital lights went out.
Darkness.
A gunshot echoed from the hallway.
Vincent grabbed Lily.
I screamed.
Nico shouted orders.
Another shot.
Glass shattered.
Vincent pushed me behind the bed.
“Stay down.”
Mark tried to sit up.
“Basement!”
“What?”
“The vault isn’t where you think!”
Vincent looked at him.
Mark gasped.
“It’s under the old Moretti theater.”
Then the emergency lights came on.
A nurse ran into the room.
“Security!”
Vincent drew his weapon.
The nurse froze.
Then she smiled.
“Too late.”
She reached inside her coat.
Vincent fired first.
She fell.
Nico rushed forward.
On her wrist was a black bird tattoo.
Vincent looked at me.
“Now you understand.”
May you like
“What?”
“Why I locked every door.”
