Chapter 10 - The Hotel With No GuestsRafael survived.
Barely.
The bullet had grazed his shoulder.
Enough to hurt.
Not enough to stop him.
He refused hospitalization.
We moved to an abandoned hotel in Manhattan that the DeLuca family had quietly owned for years.
No cameras.
No staff.
No records.
Exactly the kind of place a man disappeared into when he had enemies everywhere.
Bella sat beside Rafael's bed.
She held his hand.
I watched them from the doorway.
There was something strangely peaceful about the scene.
Then Rafael looked at me.
“Come in.”
I stepped inside.
“Bella needs sleep.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Rafael smiled.
“Stubborn.”
“Like Sarah.”
I laughed quietly.
“Don't drag me into this.”
Bella leaned against him.
“Are you my Papa's friend?”
Rafael looked at me.
I answered before he could.
“No.”
Bella frowned.
“Then what are you?”
I looked at Rafael.
He didn't answer.
I whispered:
“I used to be his accountant.”
Bella considered this.
“That's boring.”
Rafael actually laughed.
It was the first time I had heard him laugh in three years.
The sound was unfamiliar.
Almost human.
Later, Bella fell asleep.
Rafael and I stayed awake.
He looked at the ceiling.
“I loved Elena.”
I said nothing.
“She lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“I would have forgiven her.”
“I know.”
“She didn't think I would.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“She trusted you.”
I swallowed.
“She was afraid of you.”
He closed his eyes.
“I know.”
Silence.
Then I said the thing I had been avoiding.
“Your brother isn't the one behind this.”
“I know.”
“Victor Hale is.”
Rafael shook his head.
“Victor is too careful.”
“That's why he's dangerous.”
Rafael turned.
“What did you find?”
I showed him the microfilm.
He read the list of names.
Then he saw one account.
His expression changed.
“That's the hotel.”
“What?”
“The owner.”
I stared.
The hotel wasn't really owned by the DeLuca family.
It was owned by a trust.
Managed by Victor Hale.
Rafael looked sick.
“All this time.”
I nodded.
“Your lawyer owns your safe house.”
He stood.
“Then nobody here is safe.”
A noise came from the hallway.
We both turned.
The door opened.
No one.
I walked out.
The hallway was empty.
Then Bella screamed.
I ran back.
Her bed was empty.
Rafael froze.
The window was open.
I looked at the curtains.
Then the floor.
A small line of white powder led toward the bathroom.
A sedative.
Someone had entered through the ventilation system.
“Find her.”
We searched every room.
Nothing.
Then I heard a child's humming.
From the basement.
We rushed downstairs.
There was a locked door.
Behind it was an old service corridor.
I opened it.
Bella sat on the floor.
She was not alone.
A man sat beside her.
Older.
Gray-haired.
Wearing a dark coat.
My heart stopped.
I knew that face.
The face from the videotape.
My father's face.
He looked at me.
“Hello, Nora.”
I could not breathe.
Rafael raised his gun.
My father looked at him.
“You finally found her.”
Rafael's voice was ice.
“Who are you?”
The man smiled.
“Marcus Kane.”
I stared.
My father was alive.
He stood.
Bella ran toward me.
“Sarah!”
I caught her.
My father watched us.
Then he said:
“I have exactly twelve minutes before they find this room.”
Rafael pointed his gun at him.
“Start talking.”
My father looked at him.
“You're asking the wrong man.”
He nodded toward Bella.
“Ask her.”
Rafael frowned.
“Ask her what?”
My father looked at the child.
Then his face became grave.
“Ask Isabella why she remembers Warehouse Seven.”
Bella looked up.
“I remember.”
Rafael's face went pale.
May you like
My father whispered:
“She was there.”
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