Chapter 6 - The Funeral That Never HappenedThere had never been a funeral for me.
At least not one I remembered.
I had been shot twice.
Stabbed once.
Nearly drowned.
But I'd survived everything.
Camilla's confession meant something else.
Someone had staged my death before.
Maybe years ago.
Maybe the current plan had been waiting ever since.
We drove to the abandoned station.
Thomas Voss was waiting beneath a broken clock.
He stood alone.
No guards.
No weapon.
He looked terrified.
“Where is Lila?”
Voss swallowed.
“I don't have her.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Because they're going to kill me.”
“Who?”
He looked toward the tunnel.
“Everyone.”
I grabbed his collar.
“You know where my daughter is.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I don't know the exact room.”
My fist tightened.
“Then start talking.”
He looked at Camilla.
She stepped forward.
“You lied to us.”
“I had to.”
“You knew about Marco.”
“I knew he was alive.”
“You knew about the drug.”
“Yes.”
“Lila?”
Voss shook his head.
“I didn't know she was being poisoned.”
I stared at him.
“You managed every account used to pay for it.”
He lowered his eyes.
“I thought the payments were for medical research.”
“What research?”
“Neurological regeneration.”
“Regeneration?”
He nodded.
“Marco was obsessed with reversing damage caused by the disease.”
“Why?”
Voss looked at me.
“Because Marco was sick.”
I froze.
“What?”
“He was diagnosed eleven years ago.”
“What disease?”
“Degenerative neurological disease.”
Suddenly the funeral made sense.
The warehouse fire.
The fake death.
Marco didn't disappear to escape us.
He disappeared because he was dying.
But why create a conspiracy around Lila?
Voss continued.
“He believed your family carried a genetic marker.”
“Which means?”
“Lila had it.”
“What marker?”
“I don't know.”
He reached into his coat.
Pulled out a file.
“Marco wanted her blood.”
My stomach twisted.
“For treatment?”
“For himself.”
I stared at the file.
There were blood reports.
Lila's name.
Marco's.
Similarity graphs.
A conclusion:
Compatible donor potential: high.
Rafael read over my shoulder.
“This is insane.”
Voss nodded.
“Marco funded the research.”
“And Hale?”
“He designed the drug.”
“To make Lila sick.”
Voss shook his head.
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“The drug wasn't supposed to blind her.”
I stared.
“It was supposed to suppress her immune system.”
“What?”
“To prepare her body for extraction.”
I felt sick.
“You were using my daughter as a donor.”
Voss shook his head.
“They thought the treatment would create a perfect match.”
“And if it didn't?”
He didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
“And if it didn't?”
Voss finally whispered:
“They had another child.”
I stared.
“What child?”
He looked at Camilla.
She closed her eyes.
“Lila's twin.”
Everything stopped.
Rafael looked at me.
“What?”
Camilla started crying.
“I found out later.”
“You knew?”
“I knew there was another child.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“When?”
“At birth.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Marco told me the baby had died.”
“Did you see the body?”
“No.”
“Did you see a death certificate?”
“No.”
I looked at Voss.
“You know where the twin is.”
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
“She's alive.”
The word hit harder than any bullet.
“Where?”
He looked toward the dark tunnel.
“Under St. Gabriel's.”
I nearly stepped forward.
Then Voss shouted:
“Wait!”
A metallic click came from above.
Rafael pulled me down.
Bullets tore through the station.
Voss was hit.
He collapsed.
Camilla screamed.
We dragged him behind concrete.
“Who's shooting?”
Rafael looked through a gap.
“Three men.”
“Take them.”
Gunfire answered.
Minutes later, silence.
We checked Voss.
Still alive.
Barely.
I crouched.
“Where is Lila?”
His mouth moved.
I leaned closer.
“Say it.”
He whispered:
“Room twelve.”
“Where?”
“Below…”
His eyes rolled.
“Below St. Gabriel's.”
Then he died.
Camilla covered her mouth.
Rafael looked at me.
“We need to move.”
I looked at the dead man.
Then at my wife.
Then toward the city skyline.
For twenty years I had built an empire on the idea that nothing could reach my family.
I had been wrong.
Something had been living beneath my house.
Something had been growing inside my daughter's blood.
And another daughter might have been alive all along.
We returned to the mansion.
I ordered a full lockdown.
But before we could leave the study, the door opened.
My housekeeper stood there.
Maria Ortiz.
Alive.
I stared.
She dropped a stack of towels.
Camilla screamed.
“That isn't Maria.”
The woman slowly looked at us.
Then smiled.
“You finally noticed.”
Rafael drew his gun.
The woman reached behind her back.
I expected a weapon.
Instead she pulled out a photograph.
A newborn baby.
Two infants sleeping side by side.
One had a tiny birthmark above her left eye.
The other didn't.
The woman pointed to the first baby.
“Lila.”
Then the second.
“Her sister.”
I stepped toward her.
“Where is she?”
The woman smiled.
“Closer than you think.”
Her phone rang.
She answered.
A voice came through the speaker.
A man's voice.
Marco.
“Bring Vincent to room twelve.”
The fake housekeeper looked at me.
May you like
Then whispered:
“Because his daughter is waiting.”
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