Chapter 5 - The Hidden TwinThe room seemed to shrink.
“Say it again,” Ricardo whispered.
Matteo’s words kept echoing inside my head.
Twins.
One was me.
The other was Leo.
Impossible.
Leo was three.
I was twenty-four.
No timeline made sense.
Ricardo knelt in front of his son.
“Leo, look at me.”
Leo buried his face against my side.
Ricardo looked at me.
“Don't believe him.”
“Then tell me what is happening.”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I swear I'm not.”
A guard interrupted.
“Boss, we found something.”
He held up an old ledger.
Ricardo opened it.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Birth records.
Adoptions.
Transfers.
One line had been circled in red.
VANCE, CLARA. FEMALE. BORN MAY 14.
Below it:
MORETTI, LEO. MALE. DECEASED.
Ricardo stared.
“That says Leo died.”
The guard flipped another page.
A second entry.
CHILD TRANSFERRED TO PRIVATE CUSTODY.
Ricardo’s face hardened.
“Who signed this?”
The name was unmistakable.
Matteo Moretti.
I took the ledger.
“This isn't possible.”
A sound came from behind us.
Leo was humming.
A small melody.
Ricardo froze.
“Sofia used to sing that.”
The boy continued humming.
Then he looked at me.
“Mommy sang it for you too.”
I swallowed.
“You remember?”
Leo nodded.
“What did she say?”
He pointed toward the photographs.
“She said Clara was coming.”
“When?”
“After the fire.”
My heart stopped.
“What fire?”
Leo pointed at one picture.
A photograph of a house burning.
My childhood home.
I stared.
“That house belonged to my father.”
Ricardo looked at the date.
Twenty-four years ago.
The exact year I was born.
Then another memory surfaced.
A woman carrying me.
Smoke.
A red dress.
A lullaby.
I had forgotten it completely.
“Mommy,” I whispered.
Ricardo heard me.
“You remember her?”
“I remember a woman.”
“What woman?”
“She gave me to my father.”
Ricardo's face changed.
“Why?”
I closed my eyes.
“I don't know.”
Then Leo grabbed my wrist.
“Come.”
He led me toward a wall.
He touched a small panel.
Nothing happened.
He pressed it again.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside was a key.
The same shape as the one stolen from my apartment.
Ricardo took it.
“There's another door.”
At the rear of the basement, a narrow passage opened.
We followed.
The tunnel ended beneath the restaurant.
There was another room.
And inside was a video camera.
Still recording.
A monitor flickered on.
Sofia appeared.
She looked exhausted.
Bruised.
Alive.
Ricardo stumbled backward.
“Sofia…”
On screen, she looked directly at the camera.
“If you're watching this, Matteo has found you.”
She paused.
“Ricardo, I need you to understand something.”
She looked at the camera for several seconds.
“Clara is not your enemy.”
I stared at the screen.
Sofia continued.
“She is your daughter.”
Ricardo closed his eyes.
“No…”
“And Leo…”
The video cut to static.
Ricardo hit the monitor.
“Play it again!”
The system restarted.
Nothing.
I looked toward Leo.
The child was staring at the screen.
Then he whispered:
“Mommy said Daddy killed her.”
Ricardo froze.
The blood drained from his face.
“What?”
Leo pointed at him.
May you like
“Mommy said you were the one who shot her.”
And from somewhere behind the hidden wall came the sound of a slow, deliberate laugh.
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