Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
I did not sleep.
At sunrise, I sent four armed men to the hospital and ordered every surviving St. Helena administrator brought to my office.
Nobody was permitted to leave.
Nobody was permitted to make a phone call.
Nobody was permitted to destroy a file.
By eight in the morning, we had twelve people inside the mansion.
The hospital director was the first.
Dr. Victor Hale.
Sixty-two years old.
Expensive suit.
White hair.
Hands that trembled when I placed the bracelet on the table.
“You know this patient number.”
It wasn't a question.
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Whose was it?”
“Elena Varela.”
“Who was she?”
“A patient.”
“Don't insult me.”
His shoulders dropped.
“She was part of a confidential maternal program.”
“The same program my father funded?”
“Yes.”
“What did the program do?”
He looked at Valentina.
She had been sitting at the far end of the room.
“What?” I snapped.
He said nothing.
I stood.
“You have thirty seconds.”
Dr. Hale closed his eyes.
“The program facilitated private births.”
“For wealthy families?”
“Yes.”
“Meaning?”
“Surrogacy. Anonymous donors. Identity transfers. Protected adoptions.”
“Legal?”
He hesitated.
“Not all of it.”
My jaw tightened.
“Where was my son registered?”
“At birth?”
“Yes.”
“The child born to Valentina Moretti was registered under your family name.”
“What happened next?”
“The file was changed.”
“By whom?”
Dr. Hale looked at me.
“Your brother.”
Matteo stood.
“That's a lie.”
I turned.
“You can speak when I ask.”
Dr. Hale continued.
“Three minutes after the baby's birth, I received a call from Matteo asking me to change the status from critical to deceased.”
A silence fell over the room.
Valentina started crying.
I looked at her.
“You knew.”
She shook her head.
“I didn't know the baby would be taken.”
“You knew enough.”
“No.”
“What did you think would happen?”
She stood.
“I thought they would protect him.”
“From what?”
She couldn't answer.
I walked toward her.
“Tell me.”
She whispered:
“From your enemies.”
I laughed bitterly.
“My enemies didn't kill him.”
She began sobbing.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
She stared at the floor.
“I was told you would never forgive me.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn't the mother you thought I was.”
The sentence stopped me.
“What does that mean?”
She lifted her head.
“I'm his mother.”
“You carried him.”
“Yes.”
“Then what's the problem?”
“I gave birth to him.”
She touched her chest.
“But before that, someone told me our son had been marked for death.”
“Who?”
“My brother.”
I froze.
“Who?”
She looked toward Matteo.
“My brother.”
I turned.
Matteo was no longer pretending to be calm.
“You're lying.”
Valentina screamed.
“You told me the Moretti family needed an heir!”
He stepped back.
“You agreed.”
“I agreed to protect my child!”
“You agreed because you were afraid.”
I moved between them.
“Enough.”
Matteo stopped.
I looked at Valentina.
“Start at the beginning.”
She covered her face.
“When I was pregnant, Matteo told me the baby would be targeted because your father had enemies.”
“My father is dead.”
“He knew people would come after you.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Why did he arrange a secret birth?”
“I never agreed to anything illegal.”
“You let my brother handle the hospital.”
“He promised it was safe.”
“And when?”
She began to cry harder.
“After the birth.”
“What happened?”
“You were told the baby had died.”
“Yes.”
“I was shown a body.”
“What body?”
“A baby.”
I stared at her.
“Did you touch him?”
“No.”
“Did you see his face?”
She shook her head.
That answer burned.
She had not seen our son.
I had not seen our son.
Neither of us had.
Someone had controlled the entire process.
Then the door opened.
Sophia stood there.
“Mr. Moretti?”
I turned.
“What is it?”
She held something small in her hand.
A brass key.
“I found this in the bag.”
“Where?”
“Under the blanket.”
I took it.
A number was stamped on it.
Enzo looked at me.
“Storage locker.”
“Find it.”
Two hours later, we were standing in a private underground facility beneath St. Helena.
Locker 1207 opened with the brass key.
Inside was a sealed envelope.
My name was written on it.
MATTEO MUST NEVER SEE THIS.
I opened it.
There were three items.
A photograph of my father.
A bank receipt.
And a cassette tape.
We found an old player in the hospital archives.
I pressed play.
Static.
Then a woman's voice.
Elena Varela.
“If you're hearing this, I'm already dead.”
Valentina covered her mouth.
The recording continued.
“They told me my daughter would be safe.”
I looked at the hospital director.
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
“Elena Varela” continued.
“They told me the Moretti family wanted a child and would protect her. They lied.”
A pause.
Then:
“Matteo was the one who arranged it.”
My head snapped toward my brother.
The recording continued.
“He told me the child would be born into wealth and I would be compensated. But when I learned the truth, I tried to take her back.”
Silence.
Then Elena whispered something that changed everything.
“Your father did not die naturally.”
My blood froze.
“He was poisoned.”
Valentina stepped backward.
My father.
Poisoned.
The empire had always told me he died of a heart condition.
Elena continued.
“Matteo and the people around him wanted control.”
The tape crackled.
“If they discover I kept records, they'll kill me.”
Then one final sentence.
“Lucia is still alive.”
The tape stopped.
I looked at the hospital director.
“Who is Lucia?”
He shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“Wrong.”
I slammed my hand onto the table.
“You do know.”
He stared at the floor.
“I was told the file was destroyed.”
“By whom?”
“Matteo.”
I turned toward my brother.
He backed toward the wall.
“You've lied for years.”
“No.”
“You lied about my father.”
“No.”
“You lied about the baby.”
“I was protecting the family.”
“You nearly stole my son.”
“I was protecting the family!”
He screamed the last sentence.
I stepped closer.
“You don't get to use that word.”
He went silent.
“You didn't protect my family.”
I pointed toward the hallway where my son slept under guard.
“You tried to replace it.”
He whispered:
“You don't know what our father did.”
“Then tell me.”
“He was going to kill us.”
“Why?”
“Because he believed one of us had to inherit everything.”
I stared at him.
“He chose you.”
“He chose no one.”
“Then why did you do this?”
Matteo looked at Valentina.
Then at me.
“Because your son was the one thing that could make you impossible to control.”
That answer changed the room.
“What does that mean?”
He said nothing.
I grabbed his collar.
“Talk.”
He shook his head.
“You'll hate me.”
“I already do.”
He whispered:
“Your son wasn't the first child they tried to use.”
I released him.
“Who was?”
He looked at the brass key.
“Lucia.”
“Who is Lucia?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“My daughter.”
Everyone went still.
Valentina gasped.
“What?”
Matteo closed his eyes.
“Lucia is the child Elena Varela gave birth to twelve years ago.”
I stared at him.
“You have a daughter?”
“She was supposed to be our secret.”
“Why?”
“Because she wasn't mine.”
The room became silent.
Matteo looked toward Valentina.
“She was your father's.”
My heart stopped.
Valentina covered her mouth.
I couldn't process the words.
My father's child.
My brother's secret.
A woman officially dead.
An underground hospital program.
And now my newborn son was at the center of it.
Then the hospital alarm sounded.
Enzo touched his earpiece.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“The nursery camera is down.”
I ran.
The room was empty.
The crib was overturned.
The baby was gone.
On the mattress was a handwritten note.
YOU FOUND LUCIA.
NOW FIND HER BEFORE WE FIND YOUR SON.
I read it twice.
Then I looked at Matteo.
For the first time, he looked genuinely terrified.
“Who took him?”
May you like
He whispered one name.
“Lucia.”
