Chapter 4 - The Key Thomas Gave Me Opened a Private Archive Under the Hospital Where He Died—and Enzo Found Evidence That His Brother Hadn't Been Murdered by the EnemyThe key was waiting in an old safety deposit box.
My old apartment had been cleared months earlier.
But someone had kept my possessions.
A small bank box.
Inside:
The brass key.
A photograph.
And a note.
Lena, if you ever meet Enzo Marchetti, do not trust the wheelchair.
I read it twice.
Enzo looked over my shoulder.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
We followed the key to the hospital.
The archive was beneath the basement.
A hidden room.
Inside were medical files.
Patient records.
Payment histories.
The names of people who had received unusual treatments.
Enzo's brother, Marco, was there.
Cause of death:
Accidental overdose.
But the toxicology report contradicted it.
Someone had administered a medication not prescribed to him.
The signature belonged to Dr. Ricci.
Enzo stared.
“Ricci killed him.”
I shook my head.
“Maybe.”
Then I saw another name.
Victor.
His fingerprints appeared in the file.
I looked at Enzo.
“Your trusted man was there.”
He didn't answer.
We found a recording.
Marco's voice.
He was speaking to Thomas.
“Victor knows.”
Thomas responded:
“He knows too much.”
Marco:
“Then why isn't he dead?”
Thomas:
“Because he has something they need.”
What?
I listened.
Marco continued:
“Lena.”
My heart stopped.
“Who is she?”
Thomas answered:
“The nurse.”
Marco laughed.
“Why her?”
“Because she was there.”
“There for what?”
“Everything.”
The recording ended.
I looked at Enzo.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
We searched the archive.
One document remained.
A patient consent form.
My name.
My signature.
But I had never signed it.
It authorized the use of my blood samples for a private study.
I stared.
“What?”
Enzo looked at it.
“Why would they have your blood?”
“I don't know.”
Then I remembered Thomas.
My hospital visit.
The blood test.
A research program I'd agreed to without understanding.
I had been eighteen at the time.
The sample had been sent to a private laboratory.
The laboratory was owned by the Marchetti family.
I felt sick.
Someone had been studying me.
For years.
Enzo realized it too.
“They didn't find you.”
He looked at me.
“They were waiting for you.”
My entire life suddenly felt staged.
My job.
My hospital.
My connection to Thomas.
My brother's gambling debts.
The advertisement.
Everything.
I hadn't simply been hired.
I had been selected.
But why?
The answer was in the final file.
SUBJECT: LENA HART.
MATCH CONFIRMED.
TRANSFER TO MARCHEtti ESTATE.
TRIGGER EVENT: ENZO MARCHEttI CONDITION.
I stared.
My arrival had been part of a plan.
And whoever built the plan had expected me to make Enzo recover.
Not just physically.
Emotionally.
They needed something from him.
Something only he could access.
Something worth enough to manipulate both of us.
Then the lights went out.
A gunshot echoed.
May you like
Enzo grabbed my arm.
“Run.”
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