Chapter 6 - I didn't speak for nearly a minute.My mother.
Dead for eight years.
My mother had supposedly murdered no one.
She had been the softest person I knew.
She baked cakes.
Read bedtime stories.
Held my hand when thunderstorms shook the windows.
The idea of her kidnapping Elias was impossible.
Unless everything I remembered was a lie.
“You're saying my mother took my brother?”
Beatrice nodded.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why are you sure?”
“Because I saw her.”
“Where?”
“At Warehouse 17.”
I stared at the old photograph.
The same warehouse where I had found the hidden room.
“What happened?”
“Your mother brought Elias there.”
“Alone?”
“No.”
“Who was with her?”
“Your father.”
I closed my eyes.
My family's history was becoming a maze.
Everyone I had loved had lied.
Everyone I had trusted was carrying a secret.
I turned toward Beatrice.
“Take me there.”
“We're already there.”
I looked around.
The safe apartment.
She smiled faintly.
“There's a lower level.”
She opened a panel beneath the floor.
A staircase descended.
We walked underground.
At the bottom was a room.
Old.
Cold.
On the wall were children's drawings.
One showed three boys.
One showed a woman.
One showed five circles connected by lines.
And beneath them was a single sentence:
FAMILY IS THE FIRST PRISON.
I recognized the handwriting.
Luca's.
“He was here.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Twelve years ago.”
“What happened?”
“He discovered the ledger.”
“What did it contain?”
“Everything.”
“Give it to me.”
She shook her head.
“I don't have it.”
“Then who does?”
“You.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“The food.”
I stared at her.
She pointed toward the plastic container I had brought from the mansion.
“The container.”
I picked it up.
She turned it upside down.
The bottom popped open.
A tiny metal compartment was hidden inside.
Inside was a micro-SD card.
I stared at it.
“Beatrice.”
“Yes?”
“Why did you steal food?”
“Because Luca needed the food.”
“That doesn't explain the container.”
“I needed you to follow me.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She took a breath.
“You would never have followed a maid delivering a package.”
“But you would follow someone stealing from you.”
I slowly realized the truth.
The entire thing had been staged.
She had wanted me to discover Luca.
She had wanted me to find the hidden compartment.
She had wanted me to uncover my father's secrets.
“Why me?”
“Because you're the only person they haven't completely controlled.”
I inserted the card into a laptop.
Hundreds of files appeared.
Audio recordings.
Documents.
Photographs.
The oldest file was dated twelve years ago.
I opened it.
My father's voice filled the room.
“If you're hearing this, Elias is still alive.”
My blood ran cold.
The recording continued.
“The organization believes Elias died.”
A pause.
“They are wrong.”
I looked at Beatrice.
My father knew.
He had hidden my brother.
“Why?”
The recording continued.
“Elias witnessed something he should never have seen.”
A second voice entered.
My mother's.
“Antonio, we don't have time.”
My father answered.
“If they find him, they will kill him.”
My mother cried.
“Then let them believe he's dead.”
I covered my mouth.
The recording continued.
My father said,
“Adrian must never know.”
Then my mother's voice whispered:
“Neither must Luca.”
The file ended.
I stared at the screen.
My father had hidden Elias.
My mother had helped him.
Luca didn't know.
And twelve years ago, someone had tried to expose everything.
I opened the next file.
A photograph appeared.
Elias.
Older.
Alive.
Standing beside a woman.
I recognized the woman instantly.
Beatrice.
My stomach dropped.
“You knew him.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“What happened?”
She looked toward the doorway.
“I was supposed to bring him to you.”
“Why didn't you?”
“He was killed.”
I froze.
“By whom?”
She didn't answer.
A gunshot exploded from the ceiling.
Glass shattered.
Beatrice grabbed me.
We fell behind the desk.
Another shot.
Then another.
Someone was firing through the ventilation shaft.
I reached for my gun.
Beatrice shouted,
“Don't shoot!”
“Why?”
“Because there's someone down there with us.”
I looked beneath the desk.
A shadow moved.
A hand grabbed my ankle.
I kicked.
The figure crawled out.
A man.
Bleeding.
Barely conscious.
He looked up at me.
I recognized him.
Elias.
My dead brother.
He whispered:
May you like
“Adrian...”
Then he collapsed.
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