CHAPTER 5 — THE SIX-HOUR DEADLINE
For several seconds after the call ended, nobody moved.
The silence inside the west wing was so complete that Vincent could hear the old wall clock ticking somewhere beyond the corridor.
One.
Two.
Three.
Dominic lowered his weapon.
Vincent did not.
His eyes remained fixed on his cousin.
“Put it away.”
Dominic slowly returned the gun to its holster.
“Vincent, you need to listen to me.”
“I've been listening.”
“No. You haven't.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“Sofia said there was a man standing beside me.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“She also said not to trust the man holding the gun.”
“And you're holding one.”
“So are half the men in this house.”
Vincent's expression didn't change.
“Not beside me.”
Dominic stared at him.
“What are you accusing me of?”
“I'm not accusing anyone.”
“You're looking at me like I murdered your wife.”
Vincent's voice dropped.
“I don't know who murdered anyone.”
Dominic's eyes hardened.
“Then don't make a decision based on one distorted phone call.”
Vincent almost laughed.
“One distorted phone call?”
He pointed toward the photographs.
“My wife disappeared for three years.”
He pointed toward the tablet.
“My daughter was hidden from me for eight.”
He pointed toward the doorway.
“And the man who handled every legal document surrounding both events was Charles Bellamy.”
Dominic said nothing.
Vincent stepped closer.
“And you want me to ignore one phone call?”
“No.”
Dominic's voice softened.
“I want you to survive long enough to find Sofia.”
That stopped Vincent.
Dominic looked at him.
“You're not thinking clearly.”
“Neither would you.”
“Exactly.”
Dominic glanced toward Grace.
“Get Emily.”
Grace froze.
“She isn't here.”
“What?”
“She was taken.”
Dominic looked at Vincent.
“By whom?”
“We don't know.”
Dominic immediately pulled out his phone.
“I'll find her.”
Vincent grabbed his wrist.
“No.”
Dominic stared at him.
“Then what?”
“We go through the security system.”
“It was compromised.”
“Then we find out how.”
Dominic nodded.
“Agreed.”
Grace stood silently.
Vincent looked at her.
“You said there was a church.”
“Yes.”
“Mercer Street.”
“Yes.”
“Father Gabriel.”
“Yes.”
“Why would Sofia send us there?”
Grace shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Vincent stared at her.
“You knew Sofia for years.”
“She trusted me.”
“But you never asked questions?”
“I asked.”
“And?”
“She told me questions could get people killed.”
Vincent looked at the photographs again.
“She's right.”
He turned toward Dominic.
“Find Father Gabriel.”
Dominic nodded.
“Alive?”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“Preferably.”
The security room was beneath the east staircase.
Only six people in the entire estate had access.
Vincent.
Dominic.
Charles Bellamy.
The head of security.
And two senior technicians.
The system was supposed to be impossible to breach.
Yet every monitor had gone dark.
Dominic stared at the screens.
“Someone shut down the external cameras first.”
Vincent stood behind him.
“How long?”
“Forty-seven seconds.”
“Enough to take Emily?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Dominic pulled up the internal cameras.
Most feeds were restored.
Kitchen.
Dining room.
Library.
Staircase.
Garage.
Nothing.
Then he opened the west-wing feed.
Static.
“Someone erased this.”
Vincent leaned forward.
“Can you recover it?”
“Maybe.”
“How?”
“There's a secondary server.”
“Where?”
Dominic looked at him.
“Below the chapel.”
Vincent frowned.
“We have a chapel?”
“Technically.”
“What do you mean, technically?”
“Our grandfather built it.”
“Why don't I know that?”
“Because it's been sealed for twenty years.”
Vincent stared at him.
“Then how do you know about it?”
Dominic hesitated.
“Bellamy showed me.”
Vincent's expression changed.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you go inside?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Dominic met his eyes.
“Yes.”
Vincent nodded slowly.
“Let's go.”
The chapel entrance was hidden behind a bookcase.
Dominic pressed three books in sequence.
The shelf moved.
A narrow staircase appeared.
Grace stared.
“I've worked here ten years.”
Vincent looked at her.
“You never knew?”
“No.”
“Then you're coming with us.”
Grace hesitated.
“Why?”
“Because Sofia left instructions with you.”
Grace followed.
The staircase descended into darkness.
The air became colder.
At the bottom stood a stone door.
Dominic entered a code.
Nothing happened.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
Vincent looked at the keypad.
There was no power.
Then Grace noticed something carved into the stone.
A white rose.
She touched it.
The door clicked.
Everyone froze.
Vincent looked at her.
“What did you do?”
“I don't know.”
The door opened.
Beyond it was a small underground room.
Not a chapel.
A surveillance center.
Old monitors lined the walls.
Some were dead.
Others flickered.
Dominic walked toward the central console.
“This shouldn't exist.”
Vincent looked around.
“Apparently it does.”
Dominic found the backup server.
He connected a portable drive.
“Give me two minutes.”
Vincent watched the monitors.
One suddenly came alive.
A camera feed.
The front driveway.
Time stamp.
Three years ago.
December 17.
Vincent stepped closer.
The footage showed Sofia leaving the mansion.
She wore a dark coat.
Her face was tense.
She wasn't alone.
Isabella walked beside her.
Vincent's expression hardened.
Then Bellamy appeared.
He opened the rear door of a black SUV.
Sofia stopped.
She looked toward the house.
Then toward the camera.
For one brief second, her eyes seemed to meet Vincent's future gaze.
She mouthed something.
Dominic slowed the footage.
Again.
Sofia mouthed the words.
Again.
He enhanced the image.
The words became clear.
HELP ME.
Vincent's face went pale.
“She didn't leave.”
“No,” Dominic whispered.
“She was taken.”
“Yes.”
Then something else appeared.
A fourth person stepped out of the SUV.
A woman.
Black coat.
Black gloves.
A dark stone ring.
A scar across her left hand.
Grace stepped backward.
“Oh God.”
Vincent looked at her.
“You know her.”
“No.”
“You recognized her.”
Grace shook her head.
“I've seen that ring.”
“Where?”
“In Bellamy's office.”
Dominic turned.
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
Grace looked at the footage.
“She came to the house several times.”
“Who is she?”
“I don't know.”
The woman leaned toward Sofia.
Sofia said something.
The woman slapped her.
Vincent's fist struck the console.
The screen shook.
“Who is she?”
Grace whispered:
“I think she's the woman who was pretending to be Sofia's sister.”
Vincent turned.
“She has no sister.”
“I know.”
The footage continued.
The woman opened the SUV door.
Sofia looked directly at Isabella.
Then said something.
Dominic enhanced the audio.
Static.
Then Sofia's voice:
“Tell Vincent…”
The recording broke.
Dominic repaired it.
“…that Emily is his.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
The SUV drove away.
Isabella remained behind.
Bellamy remained beside her.
Then something unexpected happened.
Isabella began crying.
She covered her face.
Bellamy said something to her.
She shook her head.
He grabbed her shoulder.
She pulled away.
The footage ended.
Vincent stared at the black screen.
“Why would Isabella cry?”
Dominic didn't answer.
Grace did.
“Because she loved Sofia.”
Vincent looked at her.
Grace swallowed.
“Or because she knew what was going to happen.”
A phone rang.
Everyone froze.
This time, it was Dominic's.
He answered.
“Speak.”
A security officer's voice came through.
“We found something.”
“What?”
“Garage camera.”
Dominic switched it to speaker.
The officer continued.
“There was a vehicle parked behind the east gate.”
“License plate?”
“Fake.”
“Driver?”
“Unknown.”
“Passenger?”
Silence.
Then:
“A child.”
Vincent's expression changed.
“Emily?”
“We don't know.”
“Where's the vehicle?”
“Gone.”
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
Vincent looked at the clock.
His blood ran cold.
Six hours.
The deadline had already begun.
He checked the time.
Five hours and thirty-eight minutes remained.
At the same moment, three miles away, Emily opened her eyes.
She was sitting in the back seat of a moving vehicle.
Her wrists weren't tied.
Her mouth wasn't covered.
That frightened her more.
She looked through the window.
Trees.
Dark road.
Snow.
A man sat beside her.
He wore a black coat.
His face was hidden by the darkness.
Emily hugged her backpack.
“Where are we going?”
The man didn't answer.
“Is my mother coming?”
Nothing.
Emily swallowed.
“Are you going to hurt me?”
The man finally looked at her.
“No.”
“Then why did you take me?”
“Because your mother couldn't.”
Emily frowned.
“What does that mean?”
The man looked away.
“You ask too many questions.”
“My mom says questions are important.”
The man almost smiled.
“Your mother is right.”
Emily stared at him.
“Do you know her?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I knew your father.”
Emily froze.
“My father?”
The man looked at her.
“You don't know who he is?”
Emily shook her head.
“No.”
The man's expression changed.
“Then Sofia never told you.”
“Who is Sofia?”
He stared at her.
“Your mother.”
Emily's eyes widened.
“Mrs. Moretti?”
“Yes.”
Emily's heart began pounding.
“She isn't my mother.”
The man looked away.
“She is.”
Emily shook her head.
“My mother is Grace.”
The man said nothing.
Emily whispered:
“Is Mr. Moretti my father?”
The man stared at her.
“Yes.”
Emily stopped breathing.
For several seconds, she couldn't speak.
Then:
“Why doesn't he know?”
The man closed his eyes.
“Because your father was supposed to die eight years ago.”
Emily looked terrified.
“He didn't.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
The man finally turned toward her.
“Because someone changed the hospital records.”
“Who?”
The man didn't answer.
Emily waited.
Finally, he said:
“Charles Bellamy.”
Back at the estate, Vincent stood in front of a wall covered with photographs.
Dominic was examining the recovered data.
Grace sat in a chair, exhausted.
Vincent picked up one photograph.
It showed Sofia eight years earlier.
Pregnant.
He had never seen it.
He turned it over.
On the back was a date.
March 14.
Vincent stared at it.
“That was the night I was in Boston.”
Grace nodded.
“Yes.”
“I wasn't in Boston.”
“No.”
Vincent looked at her.
“Where was I?”
Grace hesitated.
“At St. Catherine's.”
Vincent's blood went cold.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“What happened there?”
Grace looked down.
“Sofia gave birth.”
“And me?”
“You were there.”
Vincent stared at her.
“I don't remember.”
“You were injured.”
“How?”
“Someone attacked you.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Why?”
Grace shook her head.
“Sofia believed it was because of the baby.”
Vincent's hand trembled.
“Emily.”
Grace nodded.
“You were unconscious for almost eighteen hours.”
“And when I woke up?”
“You were told Sofia had lost the baby.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
“She didn't.”
“No.”
“Who told me?”
Grace looked at him.
“Charles Bellamy.”
Silence.
Vincent's expression changed.
Then he whispered:
“He lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“For eight years.”
“Yes.”
“And Sofia knew.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“Because Bellamy threatened you.”
Vincent looked at Grace.
“With what?”
Grace hesitated.
“Your brother.”
Vincent froze.
“My brother is dead.”
“I know.”
“How could Bellamy threaten me with a dead man?”
Grace's eyes filled with tears.
“Because he wasn't dead when Sofia disappeared.”
Vincent's face went blank.
Dominic slowly looked up.
“What?”
Grace whispered:
“Your brother was alive.”
Vincent stepped backward.
“No.”
“He was.”
“No.”
“He was the person who helped Sofia hide Emily.”
Vincent stared at her.
“My brother died when I was twenty-six.”
Grace shook her head.
“That is what they wanted you to believe.”
Dominic stood.
“Vincent…”
Vincent looked at him.
Dominic's face had gone pale.
“I remember something.”
“What?”
“Your brother.”
Vincent said nothing.
“He came to me the night before Sofia disappeared.”
Vincent stared.
“What did he say?”
Dominic swallowed.
“He told me…”
A pause.
“He told me that if anything happened to Sofia, I was never to trust Bellamy.”
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I forgot.”
“You forgot?”
Dominic touched his forehead.
“I was drugged that night.”
Vincent stared at him.
“By whom?”
Dominic looked at Grace.
Then back at Vincent.
“I don't know.”
The room went silent.
Then Dominic's phone vibrated.
A message appeared.
No number.
Just a photograph.
Emily.
Alive.
Sitting in the back seat of a car.
Vincent grabbed the phone.
Under the photograph were seven words.
FIVE HOURS LEFT. FIND THE WOMAN IN BLACK.
Another message arrived.
A location.
Vincent stared at it.
Mercer Street.
Father Gabriel's church.
Dominic looked at him.
“It's a trap.”
Vincent nodded.
“I know.”
“Then don't go.”
Vincent handed the phone back.
“My daughter is there.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know.”
Dominic shook his head.
“They want you to come alone.”
Vincent picked up his coat.
“Then I'll go alone.”
Dominic stepped in front of him.
“No.”
Vincent stared at him.
“You don't get to decide.”
“I'm coming.”
“You might be the traitor.”
Dominic's face tightened.
“And you might be walking into a grave.”
Vincent paused.
Then said:
“Maybe.”
He walked past him.
Dominic followed.
Grace stood.
“Wait.”
Vincent turned.
Grace reached beneath her collar and pulled out a small chain.
At the end hung a silver key.
“I've had this for eight years.”
Vincent stared at it.
“What is it?”
Grace placed it in his hand.
“Sofia gave it to me.”
“To what?”
Grace's voice shook.
“She said if the truth ever came out…”
She looked toward the west wing.
“…the key would open the place where she kept the last thing she couldn't give you.”
Vincent closed his fingers around the key.
“What thing?”
Grace shook her head.
“I never asked.”
Vincent looked at the clock.
Five hours.
Twenty-one minutes.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
No one spoke.
Only breathing.
Sofia.
“Vince…”
Vincent's heart stopped.
“Sofia?”
Her voice was barely audible.
“Don't go to the church.”
Vincent froze.
“Why?”
“Because Bellamy knows.”
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
“I'll find you.”
“No.”
Her voice suddenly became desperate.
“Vince, listen to me.”
A pause.
“You must find Emily first.”
“I will.”
“No.”
Sofia began crying.
“You don't understand.”
Vincent's voice broke.
“Then make me understand.”
Sofia whispered:
“Emily isn't the only child Bellamy took.”
Silence.
Vincent stopped walking.
“There are eleven of them.”
The call ended.
Vincent stared at the phone.
Dominic whispered:
“Eleven?”
Grace covered her mouth.
Vincent looked toward the dark mansion.
For eight years, he had believed his daughter was the secret.
Now he understood.
Emily was only one piece.
Bellamy hadn't stolen one child.
He had built an entire network.
And somewhere in that network were ten other children whose identities had been erased.
Vincent looked at Dominic.
“Change of plan.”
“What?”
“We aren't going to the church.”
“Then where?”
Vincent held up Sofia's key.
“The place she couldn't give me.”
He turned toward the west wing.
“Find the original hospital records.”
Dominic nodded.
“And if Bellamy is behind all this?”
Vincent's expression became cold.
“Then tonight he learns something.”
“What?”
Vincent looked at the photographs of Sofia.
“That the man he spent eight years deceiving…”
He closed his fist around the key.
“…is done being deceived.”
Far away, inside the moving car, Emily looked through the rear window.
She saw another vehicle following them.
The man beside her noticed.
His face changed.
“What's wrong?”
Emily pointed.
“That car.”
He looked.
The headlights were getting closer.
Then the phone in his pocket rang.
He answered.
A woman's voice spoke.
“Change the route.”
“Why?”
“Vincent Moretti knows.”
The man glanced at Emily.
“Knows what?”
The woman whispered:
“He knows Emily is his daughter.”
The line went dead.
The driver accelerated.
Emily stared at the darkness ahead.
Then she noticed something lying beneath the man's coat.
A photograph.
She reached for it.
The man caught her wrist.
“Don't.”
Emily looked at him.
“Who is that?”
He stared at the photograph.
It showed Sofia.
Standing beside another woman.
And between them was a little boy.
Emily recognized the boy immediately.
He had the same blue eyes she saw every morning in the mirror.
She whispered:
“Who is he?”
The man's face went pale.
“That…”
May you like
He looked toward the road.
“…is your brother.”
