CHAPTER 6 — THE ELEVEN CHILDREN
The photograph trembled in Emily's hands.
She couldn't look away from the little boy.
He was perhaps four years old.
Dark hair.
Pale skin.
And the same unusual blue-gray eyes Emily had seen in her own reflection every morning.
She looked at the photograph again.
“That's my brother?”
The man beside her didn't answer.
Emily looked up.
“What's his name?”
Still nothing.
“What happened to him?”
The man took the photograph from her.
“Forget you saw it.”
“I can't.”
“You need to.”
“Why?”
“Because knowing too much is dangerous.”
Emily frowned.
“My mother says that too.”
The man looked at her.
“Your mother is Grace.”
Emily shook her head.
“No.”
He looked surprised.
“She is my mom.”
“She raised you.”
“That's what moms do.”
The man stared through the windshield.
For the first time, Emily noticed that his hands were shaking.
“You knew Mrs. Moretti?”
“Yes.”
“Did she know my brother?”
“Yes.”
“Did my father know?”
The man didn't answer.
Emily leaned closer.
“Mr. Moretti is my father, isn't he?”
“Yes.”
“Why doesn't he know?”
The man's jaw tightened.
“Because the people who stole your identity also stole his memory.”
Emily stared at him.
“How do you steal someone's memory?”
“You don't.”
He looked at her.
“You steal the truth around them.”
Back at the Moretti estate, Vincent stood before a massive digital screen.
Eleven photographs had appeared.
Eleven children.
Eleven identities.
Eleven missing pieces of a conspiracy that had been hidden beneath his empire.
Dominic stood beside him.
“I've verified six of these.”
“And?”
“They're real.”
Vincent looked at the photographs.
“Where are they?”
“Unknown.”
“Parents?”
“Some have parents listed. Some don't.”
“Birth records?”
“Altered.”
“Adoption records?”
“Sealed or fabricated.”
Vincent turned.
“Who has access to that kind of system?”
Dominic hesitated.
“Government agencies.”
“Anyone else?”
“People with money.”
Vincent's eyes hardened.
“How much money?”
“More than most governments.”
Vincent looked back at the screen.
At the center was Emily.
Her photograph was different.
It wasn't a hospital image.
It was a picture of her at five years old, sitting beside Sofia.
Someone had circled Emily's face in red.
Underneath it was written:
SUBJECT ZERO.
Vincent stared.
“Why is she Subject Zero?”
“I don't know.”
“Find out.”
Dominic nodded.
“I've already started.”
Vincent looked at him.
“And?”
“There is something strange.”
“What?”
“The other ten children were moved through different families.”
“And Emily?”
“She wasn't.”
Vincent frowned.
“She stayed with Grace.”
“Exactly.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
Vincent looked at the screen.
“Maybe Sofia didn't trust anyone else.”
Dominic shook his head.
“No.”
Vincent turned.
“What?”
“If Sofia wanted to hide Emily, Grace was the worst possible place.”
“Why?”
“Because Grace worked here.”
Vincent went silent.
Dominic continued.
“Anyone searching your household would eventually find her.”
Vincent looked toward the west wing.
“Unless someone wanted Emily close.”
Dominic's expression changed.
“You think Bellamy wanted her here?”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
Vincent didn't answer.
Because he had just remembered something.
Eight years earlier.
A hospital room.
A newborn crying.
Sofia holding the baby.
A man standing beside the window.
Bellamy.
And someone else.
A woman.
Black coat.
Black stone ring.
Vincent closed his eyes.
He could almost hear the conversation.
But one part remained missing.
Who was the woman?
And why had she looked at Vincent as though she already knew him?
The vehicle carrying Emily turned onto a narrow country road.
The snow had become heavier.
The man checked the rearview mirror.
The headlights were still behind them.
“Who is following us?” Emily asked.
“No one.”
“I can see them.”
The man looked at her.
“You're observant.”
“My mom says that's better than being smart.”
He smiled faintly.
“Your mother was always like that.”
“You really know her.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I used to work for your father.”
Emily's eyes widened.
“You worked for Mr. Moretti?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a bad guy?”
The man laughed quietly.
“Sometimes.”
Emily frowned.
“That's not funny.”
“No.”
His smile disappeared.
“It's not.”
He slowed the car.
Then turned onto an unmarked road.
The vehicle behind them continued straight.
Emily watched it disappear.
“Who was that?”
The man didn't answer.
“Was it Mr. Moretti?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“Someone who wants you.”
“Why?”
The man looked at her.
“Because you are the only child who was never supposed to exist.”
Emily's face went pale.
“But I do exist.”
“Yes.”
“Then why would they want me?”
“Because you are proof.”
“Proof of what?”
The man said nothing.
Emily waited.
Finally:
“Proof that your father was framed.”
Vincent and Dominic arrived at St. Catherine's Hospital.
The building had changed dramatically in eight years.
New glass entrance.
New wing.
New administration.
But the old records department remained beneath the original building.
Vincent walked through the hallway.
Every step brought back fragments.
Fluorescent lights.
Disinfectant.
Sofia crying.
A newborn's first scream.
His own blood on the floor.
He stopped.
Dominic looked at him.
“What?”
“I remember this.”
“What?”
“The hallway.”
Vincent touched the wall.
“I was here.”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
Dominic didn't answer.
They reached the records room.
The archivist looked nervous when Vincent gave his name.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“Eight years ago.”
“Yes?”
“March fourteenth.”
The archivist typed.
“Patient?”
“Sofia Moretti.”
The man searched.
His expression changed.
“There are no records.”
Vincent stared at him.
“Try again.”
“I did.”
“Search under Sofia Romano.”
Nothing.
“Search under female patient.”
Nothing.
Dominic stepped forward.
“Search by physician.”
The archivist looked at him.
“Which physician?”
“Dr. Helen Ward.”
The man typed.
His face became pale.
“There is a restricted file.”
Vincent's voice lowered.
“Open it.”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“It requires authorization.”
Vincent placed his hand on the desk.
“Who authorized the restriction?”
The archivist looked at the screen.
Then swallowed.
“Charles Bellamy.”
Vincent's eyes went cold.
“Of course.”
Dominic looked at him.
“Can you bypass it?”
The archivist shook his head.
Vincent leaned closer.
“You're going to.”
The man hesitated.
Then entered a secondary code.
The file opened.
One document appeared.
PATIENT: UNKNOWN FEMALE
DATE: MARCH 14
TIME: 2:17 A.M.
INFANT: FEMALE
STATUS: LIVE BIRTH
Vincent stared.
“Where's the mother's name?”
“Redacted.”
“By Bellamy?”
“Yes.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“Who signed the file?”
The archivist looked down.
“Dr. Helen Ward.”
“Where is she?”
“Retired.”
“Address?”
“I don't know.”
Dominic looked over the man's shoulder.
“Wait.”
A second file had appeared.
PATIENT TRANSFER
INFANT REMOVED FROM MATERNITY WARD
AUTHORIZED BY: C. BELLAMY
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
“Where was the child taken?”
The archivist scrolled.
His expression changed.
“There is no destination.”
“What?”
“The record says the destination field was deleted.”
Vincent stared at him.
“Can you recover it?”
“Maybe.”
“Do it.”
The archivist worked.
Thirty seconds.
One minute.
Then:
“I have something.”
A line appeared.
TRANSFERRED TO: CARTER, GRACE
Vincent stopped breathing.
“Grace.”
Dominic stared at the screen.
“That's impossible.”
Vincent turned.
“Why?”
“Because Grace wasn't listed as an employee at this hospital.”
“Then how did she receive the baby?”
“I don't know.”
Vincent looked at the archivist.
“Find every document connected to that transfer.”
The man opened another file.
A signature appeared.
GRACE CARTER
Underneath it:
TEMPORARY CUSTODIAL PLACEMENT.
Vincent stared.
“Temporary.”
“Yes.”
“When was it supposed to end?”
The archivist searched.
“Six months.”
Vincent's eyes hardened.
“Why didn't it?”
The archivist opened another document.
His face drained of color.
“What?”
He turned the monitor.
PLACEMENT EXTENDED INDEFINITELY — AUTHORIZED BY S. MORETTI.
Vincent stared at Sofia's signature.
She had deliberately given Emily to Grace.
But why?
Then he saw the date.
March 20.
Six days after Emily's birth.
Under the signature was a handwritten note.
If Vincent asks, the child died.
Vincent closed his eyes.
Sofia had planned everything.
She had wanted him to believe his daughter was dead.
Not because she hated him.
Because she was protecting him.
Or protecting Emily.
Perhaps both.
A door opened behind them.
Vincent turned.
An elderly woman stood in the hallway.
White hair.
Thin frame.
A doctor's coat.
She looked directly at Vincent.
“You finally came.”
Vincent stared.
“Dr. Ward?”
She nodded.
“I knew you would.”
“Where were you?”
“Hiding.”
“From whom?”
She looked toward the security camera.
“From them.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“What happened eight years ago?”
Dr. Ward looked at him for a long moment.
Then said:
“You were brought here bleeding.”
“I remember.”
“You were unconscious.”
“Who attacked me?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“You treated me.”
“Yes.”
“My wife gave birth.”
“Yes.”
“To Emily.”
“Yes.”
Vincent's voice trembled.
“Why was I told the baby died?”
Dr. Ward looked away.
“Because someone ordered me to say it.”
“Bellamy?”
“Yes.”
Vincent's eyes hardened.
“Why did you obey?”
The old doctor began to cry.
“Because he had my grandson.”
Vincent went still.
“He threatened your family?”
“He showed me a photograph.”
“Of your grandson?”
“Yes.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to him?”
Dr. Ward looked at Vincent.
“He disappeared the next day.”
Vincent stared.
“Bellamy took him?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“No.”
She wiped her eyes.
“But I know what Bellamy wanted.”
“What?”
Dr. Ward whispered:
“Emily's blood.”
Vincent's expression changed.
“Why?”
“Because Sofia had discovered something about the child.”
“What?”
Dr. Ward hesitated.
“Something in Emily's DNA.”
Dominic stepped forward.
“What?”
Dr. Ward looked at him.
“Something Bellamy believed could prove who controlled the Moretti empire.”
Vincent frowned.
“DNA doesn't control a company.”
“Not directly.”
“What then?”
Dr. Ward took a breath.
“Your father left something behind.”
Vincent froze.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“A genetic trust.”
Vincent stared.
Dr. Ward continued.
“Your grandfather created a private inheritance mechanism tied to bloodline verification.”
Dominic's eyes widened.
“If Vincent's direct heir could be genetically confirmed…”
“The controlling shares would transfer,” Dr. Ward said.
Vincent finally understood.
His father's hidden estate.
The offshore holdings.
The companies Vincent had inherited.
The voting shares Bellamy had spent years manipulating.
Emily wasn't just Vincent's daughter.
She was the legal heir to a fortune worth billions.
And Bellamy had known.
Dr. Ward continued:
“But there was a condition.”
“What?”
“The heir had to be born from Sofia.”
Vincent's face went cold.
“That's why.”
“Yes.”
“Bellamy wanted Emily.”
“Yes.”
“Alive.”
Dr. Ward nodded.
“Alive.”
Vincent stared at the floor.
“Then why did he try to convince me she was dead?”
“Because if you knew she existed, you would protect her.”
Vincent looked up.
“And if I protected her?”
“Bellamy couldn't take control.”
Dominic's voice was quiet.
“So he separated father and daughter.”
Dr. Ward nodded.
“And used Sofia as leverage.”
Vincent's fists tightened.
“Where is Sofia?”
Dr. Ward looked at him.
“She came back here three years ago.”
Vincent froze.
“What?”
“She was injured.”
“Why?”
“She had escaped.”
“From Bellamy?”
“Yes.”
“Where did she go?”
Dr. Ward's eyes filled with fear.
“She never left the hospital.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“What does that mean?”
“She was taken from the basement.”
“By whom?”
Dr. Ward looked toward the door.
“The woman with the black ring.”
Vincent's blood went cold.
“The woman in the footage.”
“Yes.”
“Who is she?”
Dr. Ward whispered:
“Evelyn Moretti.”
Vincent stared.
The name hit him like a bullet.
“My mother?”
Dr. Ward nodded.
“Your mother was alive three years ago.”
Vincent couldn't speak.
His mother had supposedly died twelve years earlier.
Yet Dr. Ward was telling him she had been alive.
And had taken Sofia.
Dominic looked at Vincent.
“This can't be real.”
Dr. Ward shook her head.
“It is.”
Vincent stared at the old doctor.
“Where is she now?”
Dr. Ward whispered:
“She works for Bellamy.”
Hundreds of miles away, Emily sat in a dark room.
The man who had taken her stood near the window.
“You're safe here.”
Emily looked around.
“Where is my mom?”
“She'll come.”
“When?”
“When it's safe.”
Emily hugged her knees.
“What is this place?”
“A safe house.”
“Whose?”
“Sofia's.”
Emily's eyes widened.
“She owns it?”
“She used it.”
“Where is she?”
The man looked away.
“Not here.”
Emily stared at him.
“You're lying.”
He turned.
“How do you know?”
“Because everyone lies when they're scared.”
He smiled sadly.
“You really are her daughter.”
Emily frowned.
“Whose?”
“Sofia's.”
A door opened.
Emily turned.
A woman stepped inside.
Black coat.
Black gloves.
A dark stone ring.
A scar across her left hand.
Emily recognized her immediately.
“The woman from the picture.”
The woman stopped.
Her eyes met Emily's.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then the woman removed her gloves.
She walked closer.
Emily moved backward.
“Who are you?”
The woman knelt.
Her voice was unexpectedly gentle.
“My name is Evelyn.”
Emily stared.
“Evelyn what?”
The woman smiled sadly.
“Evelyn Moretti.”
Emily's eyes widened.
“Are you Mr. Moretti's mother?”
Evelyn's smile disappeared.
“Yes.”
“Why did you take me?”
“I didn't.”
“You did.”
“No.”
Evelyn looked at the man.
“He did.”
Emily turned.
The man looked away.
Evelyn continued:
“I saved you.”
“From who?”
“Your father.”
Emily stared.
“My dad wouldn't hurt me.”
“No.”
Evelyn's eyes filled with tears.
“He would die for you.”
“Then why?”
“Because he doesn't know what he carries inside him.”
Emily frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Evelyn reached into her coat.
She pulled out a small envelope.
On the front was Emily's name.
EMILY CARTER
Evelyn handed it to her.
“Your mother wanted you to have this when you turned eighteen.”
Emily stared.
“I'm eight.”
“I know.”
“Then why now?”
“Because we ran out of time.”
Emily slowly opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Sofia.
Vincent.
Emily.
And another child.
A little boy.
On the back were four words.
Find your brother before Bellamy does.
Emily looked up.
“My brother is alive?”
Evelyn nodded.
“For now.”
Emily's eyes filled with tears.
“Where is he?”
Evelyn looked toward the window.
“We don't know.”
Then a phone rang.
The man answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then slowly looked at Evelyn.
“They found us.”
Evelyn's expression hardened.
“Who?”
The man whispered:
“Bellamy.”
A second later—
gunfire erupted outside.
Emily screamed.
Evelyn grabbed her.
“Down!”
The windows shattered.
Bullets tore through the room.
The man drew his weapon.
Evelyn pulled Emily behind a concrete wall.
“Stay here.”
Emily cried:
“Where are we going?”
Evelyn looked at her.
“Home.”
“Where?”
Evelyn whispered:
“To your father.”
At St. Catherine's Hospital, Vincent stood in the old records room.
His phone vibrated.
A message.
No number.
A photograph.
Emily.
Alive.
Behind her stood Evelyn Moretti.
Vincent stared at the image.
Underneath were five words:
YOUR MOTHER HAS YOUR DAUGHTER.
Another message arrived.
COME ALONE.
Then another.
A location.
An abandoned train station.
Vincent looked at Dominic.
“I know where I'm going.”
Dominic shook his head.
“You're not going alone.”
Vincent looked at him.
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever sent this knows about Emily.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“Then it's a trap.”
“I know.”
“Vincent.”
Vincent stared at the photograph.
His daughter was alive.
His mother was alive.
His wife was alive.
And Charles Bellamy had somehow controlled all three.
Vincent put the phone in his pocket.
“Call every man we trust.”
Dominic asked:
“How many?”
Vincent looked at him.
“None.”
Dominic understood.
They had spent three years searching for an enemy outside the family.
But the enemy had never been outside.
It had been sitting at their table.
Signing their contracts.
Attending their celebrations.
And smiling beside Vincent while he prepared to marry another woman.
Vincent walked toward the exit.
Then stopped.
“Dominic.”
“Yes?”
“If I don't come back…”
Dominic interrupted him.
“You will.”
Vincent looked at him.
“And if I don't?”
Dominic's eyes hardened.
“Then I'll burn this entire empire to the ground.”
Vincent nodded.
“That is exactly what I need you to do.”
He walked away.
Outside, snow covered the hospital steps.
Vincent looked toward the dark sky.
Somewhere in that city, his daughter was running from armed men.
His wife was fighting to stay alive.
His mother had returned from the dead.
And somewhere in the shadows, Charles Bellamy was waiting.
But Vincent still didn't know the most dangerous truth.
The eleven children weren't merely heirs.
They were witnesses.
Each child carried one piece of a secret that could destroy the entire network.
And Emily—
Subject Zero—
was the only one who could connect them all.
The clock continued ticking.
May you like
Four hours remained.
And Bellamy had just started hunting again.
