Chapter 11 - The Bloodline“Lily!”
Vincent ran toward the garage doors.
Men scattered.
Cars screamed away into the night.
Daniel grabbed Vincent.
“You can't go alone.”
“My daughter just got taken.”
“She isn't yours.”
Vincent stopped.
Daniel's eyes filled with regret.
“That isn't what I meant.”
“Then explain.”
“I mean…”
Daniel looked at the empty doorway.
“She is not Elena's granddaughter by blood.”
Vincent stared.
“What?”
Daniel pulled a small photograph from his pocket.
It showed Elena twenty years earlier.
Beside her was another man.
Vincent recognized him.
Carlo.
Daniel handed him the photo.
“That's not my father.”
Vincent looked again.
The man's face was unmistakable.
Carlo.
“You said my father was my father.”
“He is yours.”
“Then what's this?”
Daniel's voice broke.
“Your mother had a sister.”
Vincent stared.
“What sister?”
“Maria.”
“Where is she?”
“Dead.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Vincent felt a familiar chill.
Another accident.
Another coffin.
Another lie.
Daniel continued.
“Maria had a daughter.”
“Lily.”
Daniel nodded.
“But Maria's daughter disappeared as a baby.”
Vincent looked confused.
“What does that have to do with Daniel?”
Daniel said nothing.
Vincent realized.
“Wait.”
The photograph.
The date.
The necklace.
The house.
“The girl is Maria's daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Then she's my cousin.”
Daniel nodded.
Vincent felt the room spin again.
“But you said she was your daughter.”
“I raised her.”
“Why?”
“Because Maria died protecting Elena.”
Vincent looked at the photograph.
“From what?”
“From the ledger.”
He finally understood.
The ledger had not merely recorded crimes.
It had recorded ownership of people.
Maria had discovered that Elena planned to break the system.
Carlo had discovered Maria knew too much.
So Maria died.
Or was supposed to.
Vincent looked at Daniel.
“Who took Lily?”
Before Daniel could answer, his phone rang.
A voice on the other end laughed.
Carlo.
“You've finally started asking the right questions.”
Vincent took the phone.
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
“Put her on.”
A pause.
Then Lily's voice.
“Vincent?”
“I'm here.”
“Don't worry.”
She sounded strangely calm.
“Where are you?”
“I don't know.”
“Look around.”
“I see a clock.”
“What kind?”
“Old.”
“Anything else?”
“A picture.”
“Of what?”
“A woman.”
“Who?”
Lily hesitated.
“She looks like me.”
Vincent's blood chilled.
“Anything written on it?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Lily read the words.
“Maria Carter. 1998.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
Carlo came back on the phone.
“You see it now.”
“Bring her back.”
“Bring me the recording.”
“I don't have it.”
“You have the girl.”
Vincent's hand tightened around the phone.
“Touch her…”
Carlo interrupted.
“You still don't understand.”
“What?”
“She isn't leverage.”
Silence.
“She is the evidence.”
Vincent looked at Daniel.
“What evidence?”
Carlo laughed.
“The evidence that your family has been built on the wrong bloodline.”
Then he hung up.
Daniel stared at Vincent.
“What did he say?”
Vincent repeated it.
Daniel went pale.
“He found it.”
“Found what?”
“The original birth record.”
Vincent frowned.
“Where?”
Daniel looked toward the silver cassette case.
“Inside the jar.”
Vincent froze.
The jar had never been about money.
The coins had been a hiding place.
And someone had been collecting them for ninety-one Fridays because every coin had been hiding a piece of a secret.
Vincent looked at the empty floor.
Then at the road.
“Where would Carlo take her?”
Daniel answered immediately.
“Home.”
“Our house?”
“No.”
Daniel's face hardened.
“The first house.”
The house where Daniel was supposedly killed.
May you like
The house where their father had buried the truth.
The house that should have burned to the ground.
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