Chapter 4 - The Third Recording
“Emily!”
I ran into the dark room.
Emergency lights flickered along the floor.
Sophia’s monitor beeped rapidly.
Dr. Harris shouted for backup.
Vincent came behind me.
“Emily!”
No answer.
The hospital room had two exits.
The corridor door.
And a service door near the bathroom used by nurses.
It was open.
I ran toward it.
Vincent grabbed my arm.
“Wait.”
“My daughter is gone.”
“There could be someone out there.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
He took a guard’s flashlight and moved through the service doorway first.
I followed anyway.
The narrow passage beyond it led toward supply rooms and a secondary elevator.
A child’s voice echoed ahead.
“Mom!”
“Emily!”
We ran.
She stood near the elevator.
A man had one arm around her shoulders.
My heart stopped.
Marco DeLuca.
The scar above his left eyebrow looked exactly as I remembered.
Gray hair now.
Black jacket.
He held no weapon.
But Emily was crying.
“Let her go.”
Marco looked at me.
“I’m not hurting her.”
Vincent stepped forward.
“Remove your hand.”
Marco did.
Emily ran toward me.
I dropped to my knees and pulled her against me.
Vincent stared at Marco.
“You threatened Claire.”
Marco nodded.
“Three years ago.”
“Dominic sent you?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you here?”
“To keep the girl from getting into the elevator.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
Marco pointed.
The indicator above the doors showed the elevator descending.
“Someone was waiting downstairs.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“How did you get here?”
“Charles called me.”
Vincent turned.
Charles had followed us.
“What?”
Charles stepped from the dark passage.
“I asked Marco to come.”
“Why?”
“Because I found something this afternoon.”
Dominic appeared behind the guards.
Even in the emergency lighting, he looked amused.
“This gets better every minute.”
Charles ignored him.
He opened his phone.
“No signal because the building network is down, but I saved the file.”
He showed Vincent an email.
A scanned document.
“Your father’s private instructions.”
Vincent read.
His jaw tightened.
“What does it say?” I asked.
Charles looked at us.
“If Dominic ever gained control of the continuity trust, I was instructed to remove him immediately.”
Dominic laughed.
“Your dead uncle trusted me more than you.”
Charles shook his head.
“No. He feared you.”
Dominic’s smile vanished.
Charles continued.
“He suspected you were stealing before he died.”
Vincent stared at him.
“And you hid this?”
“I had no proof.”
“You had my father’s letter.”
“A suspicion is not proof.”
“Sophia found proof.”
“Yes.”
“And you knew she was investigating?”
Charles looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you protect her?”
Charles swallowed.
“Because I thought she was wrong.”
Sophia’s voice came from behind us.
“You thought I was emotional.”
Everyone turned.
Dr. Harris had brought her in a wheelchair.
She looked exhausted.
But determined.
Charles lowered his head.
“Yes.”
Sophia nodded.
“At least you admit it.”
The emergency lights flickered.
Emily held up the cracked phone.
“I still have the third recording.”
Vincent looked at her.
“Play it.”
I almost stopped her.
Then I looked at Sophia.
Three years had been stolen because adults kept deciding what was too dangerous to hear.
I said nothing.
Emily pressed play.
The recording began with Sophia breathing quickly.
Then Dominic’s voice.
“Hold her still.”
Margaret gasped.
Sophia closed her eyes.
Another male voice spoke.
Marco.
Everyone looked at him.
Marco lowered his head.
On the recording, he said:
“I didn’t agree to this.”
Dominic answered.
“You agreed when you took the money.”
Marco shut his eyes.
Vincent stared at him.
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“You watched them take her.”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing for three years.”
Marco’s voice cracked.
“I thought she was dead.”
Sophia opened her eyes.
“You saw me breathing.”
“I saw them inject you. I thought—”
“You left.”
“Yes.”
Vincent moved toward him.
Marco did not step backward.
“I deserve whatever comes next.”
Sophia whispered, “No.”
Vincent turned toward her.
She looked at Marco.
“You came back.”
Marco stared.
“What?”
“The second facility.”
His face changed.
“You remember?”
“You opened my window.”
Marco’s eyes filled.
“I tried to get you out.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Dominic moved you before I could.”
Dominic rolled his eyes.
“This is sentimental nonsense.”
Marco turned on him.
“You told me she died that night.”
“You were paid to ask fewer questions.”
“I was paid for security.”
“You were paid.”
Vincent stepped between them.
“Enough.”
Emily increased the phone volume.
The recording continued.
Sophia was crying.
Then Margaret’s voice:
“What did you give her?”
Dominic:
“Something to calm her down.”
Margaret:
“She can barely breathe.”
Then another voice.
A man.
Older.
Calm.
Vincent frowned.
Charles stared at the phone.
Marco looked confused.
The voice said:
“Take her to Saint Catherine’s first. I’ll handle the paperwork.”
Sophia opened her eyes.
“I know that voice.”
Vincent looked at her.
“Who?”
She stared at him.
“Your father.”
The passage went silent.
Vincent’s father, Antonio Moretti, had died six years earlier.
Three years before Sophia vanished.
Charles shook his head.
“That’s impossible.”
Sophia looked confused.
“But that was his voice.”
Vincent took the phone.
“Play it again.”
Emily replayed the sentence.
Everyone listened.
Vincent’s expression slowly changed.
“That isn’t my father.”
Sophia frowned.
“It sounds exactly like him.”
Vincent looked at Dominic.
Dominic finally appeared nervous.
Vincent stepped closer.
“Who is it?”
Dominic smiled weakly.
“No idea.”
Vincent stared at him.
Then looked at Marco.
Marco whispered, “I know.”
“Who?”
“Anthony Moretti.”
Vincent froze.
His uncle.
Antonio’s younger brother.
A man Vincent had not seen in eight years.
A man believed to be living quietly in Palermo.
Charles muttered, “Dear God.”
Vincent looked at him.
“You knew Anthony was back?”
“No.”
Marco did.
“He came back before Sophia disappeared.”
“Why?”
“He said the company belonged to him.”
Vincent’s face hardened.
Dominic looked toward the elevator.
Now his fear made sense.
He had never been the top of the conspiracy.
He had been working for someone.
Vincent spoke slowly.
“My uncle arranged this.”
Dominic said nothing.
Sophia whispered, “He visited me.”
Vincent turned.
“When?”
“At the first facility.”
“What did he want?”
Sophia’s face twisted as memories returned.
“He wanted me to sign something.”
“What?”
“I don’t remember.”
Charles immediately said, “The trust.”
“No.”
Sophia shook her head.
“Something else.”
The lights came back.
Everyone blinked.
The elevator doors opened.
No one stood inside.
Only a wheelchair.
Empty.
A white envelope rested on the seat.
Vincent approached carefully.
His name was written on the front.
VINCENT.
He opened it.
Inside was one photograph.
Sophia.
Unconscious.
Taken three years ago.
Beside her stood Anthony Moretti.
On the back was a handwritten sentence.
YOU HAVE UNTIL MIDNIGHT TO SIGN.
Vincent checked his watch.
11:36 P.M.
Twenty-four minutes.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Who is this?”
A familiar older male voice came through the speaker.
“Hello, nephew.”
Vincent’s face went still.
Anthony continued.
“Bring the trust downstairs.”
May you like
A pause.
“Or this time, Sophia disappears for good.”
