Chapter 6 - The Child in the Photograph
Victor stared at the photograph.
The baby in it was wrapped in a white hospital blanket.
Beside him was another newborn.
Two tiny faces.
Two identical silver bracelets.
And beneath the second child, written in black ink, was a single name:
Victor.
Not Victor Castellano.
Just Victor.
His own name.
His own blood.
His own face.
He looked up at Elena.
“What is this?”
Elena didn't answer.
Victor held the photograph higher.
“Why is my name under a baby?”
Elena's lips trembled.
“Because that was what your father called him.”
Victor shook his head.
“No.”
“He believed the boy belonged to him.”
“That's not possible.”
“He had plans for him.”
Victor's voice became colder.
“What plans?”
Elena looked toward the iron door.
“Not here.”
“We're not going anywhere until you tell me.”
“Victor, Gregory is standing outside.”
“I don't care.”
“You should.”
Gregory's voice came from the passage.
“You always did have a problem with knowing when to stop.”
Victor turned.
Gregory stood beyond the doorway.
The two armed men remained behind him.
But Gregory wasn't looking at Victor.
He was staring at the photograph.
His face had changed.
For the first time, Victor saw fear in the old man's eyes.
“You shouldn't have found that,” Gregory said.
Victor stepped forward.
“You knew about this.”
Gregory didn't answer.
“You knew about the twins.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about Poppy.”
“Yes.”
“You knew my father was involved.”
“Yes.”
Victor's fists tightened.
“And you knew Leo survived.”
Gregory's eyes shifted.
“Yes.”
Victor's voice dropped.
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
Gregory looked toward Elena.
“She knows.”
Victor turned.
Elena was crying.
“You said you didn't know.”
“I didn't know where he was.”
“That's not what I asked.”
Elena wiped her cheek.
“I knew he survived.”
Victor stared at her.
“How long?”
“Twelve years.”
The words hit him harder than the rain outside.
“Twelve years?”
“Yes.”
“You knew my brother was alive for twelve years?”
“I knew someone had taken him.”
“Who?”
Elena shook her head.
“I never saw his face.”
“You're lying.”
“I swear.”
Victor slammed his hand against the table.
“Then why did you let me bury an empty coffin?”
Elena flinched.
“Because if I told you Leo was alive, they would have killed him.”
Victor froze.
“Who?”
Elena looked toward Gregory.
“He knows.”
Gregory's jaw tightened.
“Don't.”
Victor turned toward him.
“Tell me.”
Gregory remained silent.
Victor stepped closer.
“Tell me who took my brother.”
Gregory finally answered.
“Your father.”
Victor's expression went blank.
“My father was dead.”
“He wasn't when Leo was taken.”
Victor stared.
“When?”
“Two weeks before his death.”
Victor shook his head.
“My father died in an accident.”
Gregory's voice was quiet.
“It wasn't an accident.”
Silence filled the room.
Marcus lowered his weapon slightly.
Victor looked at him.
“Did you know?”
Marcus shook his head.
“No.”
Victor looked back at Gregory.
“What happened?”
Gregory sighed.
“Your father discovered Elena was pregnant.”
“I knew she was pregnant.”
“You knew she was carrying one child.”
Victor stopped.
Gregory continued.
“She was carrying two.”
Victor looked at Elena.
She nodded.
“Twins.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because your father had already decided what he wanted.”
Victor's face hardened.
“What?”
“The girl would be hidden.”
“And the boy?”
Gregory looked at the photograph.
“The boy would become the next Castellano heir.”
Victor stared.
“That was me.”
“No.”
Gregory's voice was almost a whisper.
“That was him.”
Victor looked at the photograph again.
The tiny face.
The dark hair.
The name.
Victor.
His own name.
His father's plan had been to create another version of him.
A replacement.
A second heir.
A child who could be controlled.
Victor felt sick.
“What happened to him?”
Gregory's eyes moved toward Elena.
“Elena took him.”
Victor turned.
“You took my brother?”
“I tried to save him.”
“You lied to me.”
“I lied because I had to.”
“You let me think he died.”
“I thought he did.”
Victor's voice cracked.
“You watched me grieve.”
“I grieved too.”
Victor stared at her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Poppy's voice came through the phone.
“Mr. Victor?”
Victor's head snapped toward the device.
The call was still connected.
He grabbed the phone.
“Poppy?”
Her breathing was shaky.
“Mr. Victor, I found Mama.”
Victor's heart slammed against his ribs.
“Where?”
“She is here.”
“Where are you?”
Poppy sniffed.
“I don't know.”
Victor looked at the screen.
The call had no location.
“Put Mama on.”
Silence.
Then Hannah's voice came through.
“Victor.”
He closed his eyes.
“Hannah.”
“Listen carefully.”
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Is Poppy hurt?”
“No.”
“Then tell me where you are.”
Hannah's breathing changed.
“They're watching.”
Victor looked toward Gregory.
“Who?”
Hannah whispered,
“Everyone.”
The call suddenly crackled.
Victor moved closer to the phone.
“Hannah?”
A man's voice interrupted.
“Time is running out.”
Victor recognized it.
Not Gregory.
Not Marcus.
Not anyone in the room.
A voice from the past.
A voice he had heard only once.
The night his father died.
Victor's face went pale.
The man spoke again.
“You have fifty minutes.”
Victor tightened his grip.
“Who are you?”
A soft laugh.
“You used to call me Uncle.”
The line went dead.
Victor stared at the phone.
Marcus stepped closer.
“Victor?”
Victor looked at Gregory.
“Who is my uncle?”
Gregory didn't answer.
Victor's expression hardened.
“Who?”
Gregory looked toward the floor.
“Your father's younger brother.”
“I don't have an uncle.”
“You did.”
“What happened to him?”
“He disappeared.”
“When?”
“The same night your father died.”
Victor looked at Elena.
“You knew.”
She nodded.
“I thought he was dead.”
Gregory shook his head.
“He wasn't.”
Victor's eyes narrowed.
“How do you know?”
Gregory reached into his coat.
He pulled out a small envelope.
He placed it on the table.
“Because he sent me this six years ago.”
Victor opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
An older man stood beside a black car.
Victor recognized the face.
His father's brother.
Alive.
And standing beside him was a teenage boy.
Victor stared.
The boy had dark hair.
Brown eyes.
And the same small scar beneath his left eyebrow.
Victor's fingers trembled.
“That's Leo.”
Gregory nodded.
“He was fourteen in that photograph.”
Victor looked at the date.
Six years ago.
That meant Leo was alive six years ago.
Victor's eyes burned.
“Where is he now?”
Gregory looked at Elena.
“I don't know.”
Victor slammed the photograph onto the table.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
Gregory's expression hardened.
“Because nobody knows.”
“Then why did my uncle call me?”
“Because he wants something.”
“What?”
Gregory looked at Poppy's photograph on the phone.
“The girl.”
Victor's face changed.
“He wants Poppy?”
“He believes she is the key.”
“To what?”
Gregory didn't answer.
Victor stepped closer.
“To what?”
Gregory whispered,
“The inheritance.”
Victor stared.
“What inheritance?”
“The one your father hid.”
Marcus frowned.
“What inheritance could be worth all this?”
Gregory looked at him.
“Not money.”
Victor understood.
“Power.”
Gregory nodded.
“Something your father built before he died.”
Victor shook his head.
“My father owned businesses.”
“That's what everyone believed.”
“What did he really own?”
Gregory looked toward the underground shelves.
“People.”
Silence.
Victor stared at him.
Gregory continued.
“Your father kept records on families, children, politicians, judges, police officers, doctors. Everyone who could influence the Castellano empire.”
Victor looked around the room.
“These files…”
“Are only a fraction.”
“Where are the rest?”
Gregory's expression changed.
“Somewhere your uncle can reach.”
Victor's phone vibrated.
Another message.
He looked down.
A photograph appeared.
Hannah was sitting in a chair.
Poppy was beside her.
Both were alive.
But Hannah's hands were tied.
Victor's blood turned cold.
A message appeared beneath the photograph.
FORTY MINUTES.
Then another.
BRING ELENA TO THE CEMETERY.
Then a third.
NO MEN. NO POLICE. NO GUNS.
Victor looked at Marcus.
Marcus shook his head immediately.
“No.”
Victor turned toward him.
“I'm going.”
“You can't.”
“I have to.”
“We can follow you.”
“No.”
“Victor—”
“If they see anyone, Poppy dies.”
Marcus fell silent.
Elena stepped toward Victor.
“I'll go.”
Victor looked at her.
“No.”
“You need me.”
“They need you.”
Elena nodded.
“That is why I have to go.”
Victor stared at her.
“You knew this would happen.”
“No.”
“You knew someone would come for Poppy.”
“Yes.”
“You knew my father had hidden something.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Leo was alive.”
“Yes.”
Victor's face hardened.
“And you still kept everything from me.”
Elena looked down.
“I was afraid.”
Victor's anger softened for half a second.
“Of what?”
“That you would choose revenge instead of your daughter.”
Victor stared at her.
“I would never choose revenge over Poppy.”
“I know that now.”
She looked into his eyes.
“But twelve years ago, I didn't.”
Victor stepped closer.
“What happened twelve years ago?”
Elena's eyes filled with tears.
“Your father ordered me to choose.”
“Choose what?”
“Which child would live.”
Victor stopped.
Elena continued.
“I chose Poppy.”
Victor stared at her.
“And Leo?”
“I thought Gregory had taken him.”
Gregory shook his head.
“I didn't.”
Elena looked at him.
“Then who did?”
Gregory's expression became grim.
“Your father.”
Victor felt the room spin.
“My father took his own grandson.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Gregory looked toward the photograph.
“Because Leo was the child he believed could inherit everything.”
Victor whispered,
“And Poppy?”
“The child he believed could destroy it.”
A sudden noise echoed from the passage.
Everyone turned.
Footsteps.
Fast.
Coming toward them.
Marcus raised his weapon.
Gregory's men turned toward the doorway.
Victor pulled Elena behind him.
The footsteps stopped.
Silence.
Then the old black phone on the table rang.
Victor stared at it.
Nobody touched it.
It rang again.
Gregory stepped backward.
“No.”
Victor looked at him.
“What?”
Gregory's face had gone white.
“That phone hasn't rung in twelve years.”
The phone rang a third time.
Victor slowly reached toward it.
Elena grabbed his wrist.
“Victor, don't answer.”
He looked at her.
“Why?”
Her voice broke.
“Because that phone belonged to your father.”
The ringing continued.
Victor lifted the receiver.
A man's breathing filled the line.
May you like
Then a familiar voice whispered:
“Son…”
