Chapter 9 - The BulletEverything happened at once.
Lights shattered.
Gunfire erupted downstairs.
Rafael pushed me behind a wall.
“Stay here.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You have the ledger.”
“I don't even know if I do.”
“Then find out.”
He disappeared into the corridor.
I ran in the opposite direction.
The house shook with gunshots.
I reached the medical room.
Our doctor, Dr. Alvarez, was already there.
“You said you needed surgery?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
I showed him my arm.
“There may be metal inside.”
His face changed.
“Sit down.”
He examined the scar.
Then took an X-ray.
The image appeared on the screen.
A tiny fragment sat beneath the bone.
Dr. Alvarez stared.
“That shouldn't have been left there.”
“Can you remove it?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Ten minutes.”
“We have five.”
He looked at me.
“Then five will have to do.”
The surgery was brutal.
Local anesthesia.
A small incision.
Pressure.
Pain.
Then the metallic fragment appeared.
Dr. Alvarez lifted it with forceps.
It was tiny.
A bullet fragment.
But wrapped around it was something else.
A microfilm capsule.
I stared.
Rafael entered the room.
“What is that?”
Dr. Alvarez placed it into a sterile tray.
I laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Because the truth had finally become ridiculous.
Vincent had hidden evidence inside the bullet that wounded me.
My father had planted it there.
And for three years, I had carried the secret without knowing it.
We opened the capsule.
Inside was a tiny strip of film.
Names.
Dates.
Bank accounts.
Photographs.
Thomas Vane.
Vincent.
Several judges.
Two senators.
Three police chiefs.
And one final name.
Rafael DeLuca.
I stared.
Rafael did too.
“This proves I'm involved.”
“No.”
I pointed at the date.
The account had been created six months before Rafael became boss.
He had inherited the company.
Not the crime.
The file showed a larger conspiracy.
Someone had been using the DeLuca organization as a machine.
Rafael was never the architect.
He was the shield.
Then we found another page.
My father had written a note.
The person giving orders signs with a black rose.
I remembered something.
Vincent wore one.
Thomas Vane wore one.
Even the security man at Eddie's diner had a black rose pin.
I looked at Rafael.
“This isn't Vincent.”
“Who?”
I showed him the photograph.
A man in the background.
Someone we had overlooked.
The chairman of the hospital board.
The man who had signed my medical paperwork three years ago.
Rafael's expression changed.
“Victor Hale.”
I nodded.
“Your family's lawyer.”
He stared.
“Impossible.”
“No.”
I pointed at the file.
“He's the one who altered Bella's DNA test.”
A sudden explosion shook the house.
The walls trembled.
Rafael grabbed my hand.
“Move.”
We ran downstairs.
Smoke filled the hallway.
Bodies lay near the entrance.
Then I heard something.
A child's voice.
“Sarah!”
I turned.
Bella.
She stood at the far end of the hallway.
Alive.
Alone.
Her face was wet with tears.
I ran toward her.
Rafael shouted:
“Stop!”
I froze.
Something was wrong.
Bella slowly raised her hand.
A small red laser dot appeared on her chest.
Sniper.
Rafael tackled her sideways.
The shot shattered the mirror behind them.
I dropped to the floor.
Then Bella screamed.
“Papa!”
Rafael had been hit.
He fell against the wall.
Blood spread across his shirt.
I ran to him.
His eyes opened.
“I've been shot worse.”
“You're bleeding.”
“I know.”
He tried to stand.
I grabbed his arm.
“Don't.”
He looked at me.
And smiled faintly.
“Nora.”
“What?”
“You came back.”
Before I could answer, his eyes closed.
And Bella whispered behind us:
“Sarah.”
I turned.
She was holding something.
A folded piece of paper.
“My uncle gave me this.”
I opened it.
May you like
Only one sentence.
Bring Nora to the hotel, and I will tell you who her father really was.
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