Chapter 8 - The White RoomI smelled it immediately.
Sweet.
Chemical.
Wrong.
Gas hissed from the ceiling.
Rafael smashed the emergency panel.
Nothing.
Elena pulled Sofia into her arms.
I grabbed Lila's camera monitor and ripped it from the wall.
“Move!”
We found an air vent near the floor.
Rafael kicked it open.
Cold air rushed through.
“Too small,” he said.
I looked at Sofia.
“She goes first.”
Rafael pushed the girl through.
Then Elena.
Then me.
The tunnel was barely wide enough to crawl.
Behind us, the room filled with white fog.
Camilla climbed last.
We reached the other side and collapsed inside an abandoned utility corridor.
Sofia was coughing.
I wrapped my coat around her.
She looked at me.
“Are you really my daddy?”
I couldn't answer.
“I'm trying to be.”
She frowned.
“I don't remember you.”
“You were taken before you could.”
She looked at Camilla.
“Mommy?”
Camilla dropped to her knees.
“I'm sorry.”
Sofia stepped away.
“You hurt Lila.”
Camilla covered her face.
“I know.”
Sofia whispered:
“Then why should I trust you?”
No one had an answer.
We moved deeper underground.
The corridor connected to an old section of St. Gabriel's abandoned years earlier.
On the walls were faded hospital signs.
Pediatrics.
Research.
Isolation.
Elena stopped.
“Here.”
A steel door.
She opened it.
Inside, shelves of files.
Thousands.
Patients.
Children.
Adults.
Experimental records.
Rafael scanned the room.
“This is a full operation.”
I opened a file.
Subject 31.
Dead.
Another.
Subject 42.
Dead.
Another.
Subject 57.
Missing.
Then:
Subject 61. Lila Moretti.
Current.
Under treatment.
Status:
Visual impairment stabilized.
I stared.
“Stabilized?”
Elena nodded.
“She can see.”
“What?”
“Not clearly.”
“But she isn't blind.”
I felt my knees weaken.
Six months of fear.
Six months of doctors.
Six months of believing my daughter was disappearing.
And she had never been naturally blind.
A drug had been doing it.
I grabbed the file.
“What's the treatment?”
“Antidote.”
“Where?”
“Elena shook her head.”
“Destroyed.”
“Find another.”
“There isn't one.”
I looked at her.
“You just said she can see.”
“She can, temporarily.”
“What happens?”
“Her vision returns in short periods.”
“Why?”
“Because the drug blocks something in the optic pathway.”
“Then reverse it.”
“Marco tried.”
“What happened?”
“He failed.”
A sound came from the corridor.
Footsteps.
Rafael raised his weapon.
We hid.
Two men passed the door.
One spoke.
“Move Subject 31.”
The other answered:
“She's not 31.”
“Whatever.”
They walked away.
I looked at Elena.
“Subject 31.”
She nodded.
“A child?”
“Dead.”
“What happened?”
“Same process.”
I closed my eyes.
Then I heard something.
Sofia was staring at one of the shelves.
She pointed.
“There.”
I followed her finger.
A folder labeled:
SOFIA M.
I opened it.
The first page contained a photograph.
Sofia as a newborn.
The next page listed something chilling.
Primary objective: genetic compatibility.
Then:
Secondary objective: behavioral conditioning.
They had raised my daughter as a test subject.
Not a daughter.
A specimen.
Sofia tugged at my sleeve.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“There's something else.”
She reached behind the shelf.
Pulled out a small cassette.
A handwritten label:
For Vincent.
I found an old player.
Pressed play.
Marco's voice.
“If you're hearing this, I've failed.”
Static.
Then:
“I didn't fake my death to steal your empire.”
I looked at Elena.
Marco continued.
“I did it because I discovered what Voss was building.”
My blood chilled.
“Voss wanted control of the Moretti organization, but he needed you compromised.”
A pause.
“He used Hale.”
Another pause.
“He used Camilla.”
I looked at my wife.
“She did not know the entire plan.”
Marco's voice softened.
“Vincent, the worst part is this.”
Static.
“The drug was never designed for Lila.”
I stared.
“It was designed for you.”
The tape crackled.
“Lila was the carrier.”
I stopped breathing.
“The chemical responds differently in children. But when metabolized by an adult carrying the Moretti blood marker…”
Silence.
Then:
“It causes memory degradation.”
Rafael looked at me.
My blood went cold.
Memory.
The hospital.
The signatures.
The three-day blackout.
The strange headaches I'd ignored.
Marco continued.
“Voss needed Vincent alive.”
“Needed him to forget.”
I stepped backward.
There were moments.
Missing hours.
Conversations I couldn't remember.
Trips I had forgotten.
Names that sometimes felt familiar for no reason.
Marco's voice became urgent.
“If Vincent realizes what's happening, they will accelerate the final stage.”
The tape ended.
Then another voice came through the player.
Not Marco.
Voss.
“Too late.”
The door behind us locked.
A speaker activated.
Dr. Hale spoke.
“You've found the records.”
I turned toward the camera.
“Where is Lila?”
He replied:
“Above you.”
I looked up.
“You're standing directly beneath her.”
Then came a sound.
A heavy impact.
A scream.
Lila.
I ran to the ceiling panel.
“Daddy!”
Her voice came through the air vent.
“Daddy, please!”
I ripped at the metal.
“Lila!”
Hale's voice returned.
“One floor.”
Another impact.
Then silence.
I looked at Rafael.
“Get me upstairs.”
He stared at the floor plan.
“No stairs.”
“Then make some.”
We moved the shelves.
There was a maintenance hatch.
Behind it, a ladder.
We climbed.
The room above was empty.
Only a chair.
A table.
And Lila's white cane.
No Lila.
On the table sat a note.
I opened it.
You were never supposed to find Sofia.
Underneath:
Now the sisters will choose which father dies.
I looked at Sofia.
She was shaking.
“Who is the other father?”
A voice came from the darkness.
“Me.”
Marco stepped into the light.
Alive.
Older.
Scarred.
May you like
Smiling.
And holding a gun to Camilla's head.
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