Chapter 8 - BLACKWATER ROADWe reached Blackwater Road before sunrise.
The house was abandoned.
Windows boarded.
Walls covered in ivy.
The kind of place no one visited unless they were looking for something.
Peter stood beside me.
“This is where Mom lived.”
I looked at him.
“You remember?”
He nodded.
“She told me not to forget the red door.”
I stared at the front entrance.
The door was black.
Grace noticed it too.
“Maybe she painted it.”
We forced the door open.
Inside was a child's bedroom.
Old toys.
A broken lamp.
A wooden horse.
And on the wall, dozens of drawings.
Most were of the same family.
A mother.
A boy.
A man.
And another boy.
One drawing stopped me.
It showed two brothers holding hands.
Above them, a woman had written:
THEY WILL FIND EACH OTHER AGAIN.
Peter touched it.
“My mother said those boys were important.”
“Did she tell you their names?”
“Nico.”
“And the other?”
He looked at me.
“You.”
My throat tightened.
Grace discovered a loose floorboard.
Underneath was a metal box.
Inside:
Photographs.
Letters.
Medical files.
And a small video camera.
We found a television in the adjoining room.
The camera contained one recording.
Elena Russo appeared on screen.
She looked tired.
Older than the woman in the photograph.
But alive.
She stared into the camera.
“If you're watching this, Lucia found me.”
Peter stepped closer.
“Elena is…”
Grace whispered.
“His mother.”
Elena continued.
“Dominic, I don't know if you'll ever see this.”
I couldn't breathe.
“You were taken from me when you were six months old.”
I closed my eyes.
“You were raised by Maria Moretti because your father needed the world to believe you were his wife's child.”
Grace covered her mouth.
Elena looked down.
“Nicholas tried to expose him.”
The video paused.
Then resumed.
“He discovered that your father and Lucia were moving children through private hospitals.”
I looked at the files.
Peter's birth record was among them.
Elena continued.
“Children from powerful families. Children with inconvenient parents. Children whose identities could be rewritten.”
She looked straight into the camera.
“You weren't the only child.”
A chill moved through me.
She named several children.
Some were now politicians.
Some were wealthy.
Some had died young.
Then she said:
“Your brother Nicholas found the first ledger.”
“What happened?”
“He tried to tell you.”
The video changed.
A recording of two young men.
Me.
And Nicholas.
Twenty years younger.
Arguing in my father's study.
I couldn't hear everything.
But I heard Nicholas say:
“They're using us.”
Then my younger self shouted:
“Stop accusing Dad!”
The recording ended.
I stared at the screen.
Grace touched my shoulder.
“You defended him.”
“I didn't know.”
“No one did.”
Another file lay beneath the camera.
It contained a list.
At the bottom was one name.
Vanessa Bellini.
My pulse quickened.
Grace noticed.
“What does it say?”
“Unknown.”
Next to Vanessa's name:
UNWITTING KEY HOLDER.
I sat down.
The meaning hit me.
Vanessa hadn't been chosen to marry me because of love.
She had been chosen because of her identity.
She was the key to something.
And my father had known.
Peter wandered into the hallway.
A floorboard creaked.
I stood.
“Peter?”
No answer.
Then a man's voice came from upstairs.
“Dominic.”
I raised my gun.
Nicholas appeared at the staircase.
Alive.
Burned.
Blood on his face.
He looked at me.
“I told you to leave.”
“I don't take orders from dead men.”
A faint smile appeared.
Then vanished.
“We have minutes.”
“Until what?”
He looked toward the window.
“Until Lucia reaches this house.”
“Why?”
“Because she knows what you found.”
He stepped closer.
Then he looked at Vanessa.
“You brought her.”
“She came.”
Nicholas's expression changed.
“Then we're already too late.”
Vanessa stared at him.
“Why?”
Nicholas answered:
“Because you are not Lucia's daughter.”
She froze.
“What?”
Nicholas looked at me.
“She is Elena's daughter.”
Vanessa's face went blank.
Peter stepped toward her.
And whispered:
“Mom said you were my sister.”
Nicholas shook his head.
“No.”
May you like
He looked at Vanessa.
“She is your mother.”
Related Stories
