Chapter 3 - THE DAUGHTER WHO WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO EXIST
The photograph trembled in Alejandro Moretti’s hand.
A little girl stood beside Vittorio Moretti, smiling beneath the fluorescent lights of what appeared to be an underground corridor.
Five years old.
Dark hair.
Sofia’s eyes.
Alejandro’s crooked smile.
His daughter.
The daughter he had never held.
The daughter he had never known existed.
On the back, Vittorio had written five words.
YOU KEPT FOUR.
I KEPT ONE.
For several seconds, nobody inside the abandoned church spoke.
Then Alejandro folded the photograph once.
Very carefully.
That frightened Luca more than if Alejandro had screamed.
“Alejandro,” Sofia whispered.
He looked at her.
“You thought she d/i/ed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Sofia’s face collapsed beneath five years of guilt.
“The doctor told me there were complications. I delivered the boys first. Then the girl came last.”
Her voice shook.
“I barely saw her.”
Alejandro remained terrifyingly still.
“What did the doctor say?”
“That she wasn’t breathing.”
Elena covered her mouth.
Sofia continued.
“I was weak. Drugged. Luca was outside arranging our escape. Camila had gone to get the car.”
Luca stepped forward.
“When I returned, they told us the baby was d/e/@/d.”
“And nobody checked?”
Alejandro asked.
Sofia flinched.
“I did.”
His eyes hardened.
“I held what I thought was her.”
A terrible silence filled the church.
“But her face was covered,” Sofia whispered. “They said it was better that way.”
Alejandro closed his eyes.
Vittorio had not simply stolen his daughter.
He had replaced her with another infant.
He had manufactured grief.
Again.
Like Sofia’s false c/o/rpse.
Like his own disappearance eighteen years earlier.
Every loss Alejandro had carried now seemed carefully engineered by one man.
His father.
Luca broke the silence.
“Marco sent coordinates from St. Gabriel.”
Alejandro opened his eyes.
“We’re going.”
Sofia grabbed his arm.
“No.”
He looked down at her.
“If Vittorio has Isabella—”
“You named her?”
Sofia’s face softened.
“I named all five before I disappeared.”
Alejandro swallowed.
“What are their names?”
She looked toward the boys.
“Mateo. Nicolas. Tomas. Rafael.”
Then at the photograph.
“And Isabella.”
Alejandro repeated it silently.
Isabella.
His daughter had had a name all along.
“We’re bringing her home.”
“Alejandro, Vittorio wants you to come.”
“I know.”
“He wants exactly this reaction.”
“I know.”
“Then think.”
“I am thinking.”
“No. You’re hurting.”
He stared at her.
Sofia stepped closer.
“That makes you predictable.”
For the first time, Alejandro smiled faintly.
“You still know me.”
“I never stopped.”
Luca looked toward the windows.
“We need another route.”
Alejandro turned.
“Explain St. Gabriel.”
Luca nodded.
“The hospital shut down twelve years ago. Your father secretly bought the property through shell companies.”
“What’s underneath it?”
“Old service tunnels. Cold storage. Utility rooms.”
Camila added, “And one section that doesn’t appear on city plans.”
Alejandro looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“I went inside once.”
Everyone stared.
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
Sofia’s expression changed.
“You never told me.”
“I found nothing useful.”
“You went inside Vittorio’s facility alone?”
Camila shrugged.
“I inherited terrible judgment from the family.”
Under any other circumstances, Alejandro might have smiled.
Instead he said, “Show me everything you remember.”
Camila drew a rough map on the church floor with chalk.
Three entrances.
Two known exits.
A freight elevator.
An underground corridor beneath the old maternity wing.
“That’s probably where Isabella is,” Sofia whispered.
“No,” Alejandro said.
Luca looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because that’s where Vittorio wants us to look.”
He pointed toward the opposite side of the map.
“What’s here?”
Camila frowned.
“The chapel basement.”
“Connected?”
“Maybe through maintenance shafts.”
Alejandro nodded.
“My father loves symbolism.”
Sofia stared at him.
“You think he kept our daughter beneath a chapel?”
“I think he would enjoy the irony.”
A phone vibrated.
Everyone froze.
It was Marco’s.
Luca answered.
“Marco?”
Static.
Then Marco’s voice.
“I don’t have much time.”
“Where are you?”
“Inside St. Gabriel.”
“Is Vittorio there?”
“Yes.”
Alejandro took the phone.
“Marco.”
Silence.
Then:
“I was wrong.”
Alejandro’s jaw tightened.
“About what?”
“Everything.”
Marco sounded exhausted.
“Vittorio showed me documents. Recordings. Orders. I believed you had my daughter k/i/lled.”
“I didn’t.”
“I know.”
A pause.
“I found the original files.”
“What files?”
“My daughter was never supposed to be the target.”
Alejandro frowned.
“What are you saying?”
“She discovered Vittorio’s network.”
Sofia closed her eyes.
“Like I did.”
“Yes.”
Marco’s breathing became uneven.
“He silenced her because she tried to warn me.”
Alejandro looked at Luca.
“Where is Isabella?”
“I found her room.”
Sofia stepped closer.
“Is she there?”
“No.”
Everyone went still.
Marco continued.
“Vittorio moved her.”
“When?”
“Hours ago.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Then a different sound entered the call.
A child humming.
Alejandro froze.
“Marco.”
“I hear her.”
The humming continued faintly.
A girl’s voice.
Then Marco whispered,
“She’s nearby.”
Alejandro gripped the phone.
“Do not approach until we arrive.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Marco.”
“I failed my daughter.”
His voice cracked.
“I will not fail yours.”
The call ended.
Alejandro stared at the phone.
Luca swore.
“He’s going alone.”
“No,” Alejandro said.
“What?”
“He expects us to follow.”
Sofia understood.
“Then Vittorio expects it too.”
Alejandro nodded.
“Which means we don’t.”
He pointed toward Camila’s map.
“We split.”
Sofia shook her head.
“No.”
“You stay with the boys.”
“No.”
“Sofia—”
“I spent five years running. I am done.”
He looked into her eyes.
There was no fear there now.
Only exhaustion and fury.
Alejandro knew arguing would waste time.
“Fine.”
Luca said, “I’ll take Sofia through the west tunnel.”
“Camila stays with the boys.”
Camila opened her mouth.
Alejandro cut her off.
“That is not a request.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Family resemblance.”
Alejandro looked at Elena.
“Stay with them.”
Elena nodded.
“And you?”
Luca asked.
Alejandro picked up his coat.
“I’m walking through the front door.”
Two hours later, St. Gabriel Hospital rose from the fog like a rotting monument.
Broken windows.
Peeling stone.
A rusted cross above the entrance.
Alejandro stood alone before the main doors.
His phone vibrated.
A message.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
WELCOME HOME, SON.
Alejandro pushed open the doors.
Inside, emergency lights glowed weakly.
A voice emerged from hidden speakers.
Vittorio.
“You’ve grown careless.”
Alejandro walked forward.
“And you’ve grown old.”
A soft laugh.
“You always had courage.”
“No. I had bad parenting.”
Silence.
Then:
“You came for the girl.”
“I came for my daughter.”
“You don’t know her.”
“She knows me.”
“How?”
“She has my face.”
Another laugh.
“You think bl/o/od makes family?”
Alejandro stopped.
“No.”
For the first time, Vittorio sounded curious.
“Then what does?”
Alejandro thought of four boys playing the quiet game.
Sofia crying in his arms.
Luca taking two punches without resistance.
Elena protecting children with her own body.
“Who stays,” he said.
The speakers went silent.
Alejandro continued walking.
Down one corridor.
Then another.
Eventually he reached the old maternity wing.
A red door stood open.
Inside was a child’s room.
Pink blanket.
Books.
Crayons.
A wooden horse.
On the wall were dozens of drawings.
Alejandro stepped closer.
Most showed an old man.
Vittorio.
Some showed a little girl.
But one drawing stopped him.
Five children holding hands.
Four boys.
One girl.
Above them were two adults.
A woman labeled MAMA.
And a man labeled PAPA.
Alejandro touched the paper.
She knew.
Somehow Isabella knew.
Then he saw writing beneath the picture.
MAMA SAYS PAPA WILL FIND ME.
Sofia.
Alejandro’s pulse changed.
She had contacted Isabella.
Before he could process it, footsteps sounded behind him.
He turned.
Marco stood in the doorway.
His shirt was torn.
Bl/o/od streaked one side of his face.
But he was alive.
“Where is she?” Alejandro asked.
Marco held up one finger.
“Quiet.”
They listened.
A small sound came from behind the wall.
Crying.
Alejandro crossed the room.
Marco helped move a cabinet.
Behind it was a narrow steel door.
Locked.
Alejandro tried the handle.
Nothing.
Marco pointed to a keypad.
“Six digits.”
Alejandro stared.
Then looked at Isabella’s drawing.
Five children.
Two parents.
Dates.
Names.
He suddenly remembered the hospital bracelet.
Her birthday.
He entered the date.
Wrong.
Marco swore.
Then Alejandro noticed something else.
Five stars drawn above Isabella.
Four stars above the boys.
He thought of Sofia.
The names.
Mateo.
Nicolas.
Tomas.
Rafael.
Isabella.
Initials.
M N T R I.
No.
Then a voice came from the other side.
A little girl.
“Papa?”
Alejandro stopped breathing.
“Isabella?”
Silence.
Then:
“Mama said you would know the song.”
Alejandro looked at Marco.
“What song?”
The girl hummed.
Three notes.
Alejandro closed his eyes.
Sofia used to hum that melody every night.
Their anniversary song.
The date.
He entered six numbers.
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
A little girl stood inside.
Dark hair.
Bare feet.
A yellow sweater.
She stared at Alejandro.
He stared at her.
Neither moved.
Then Isabella whispered,
“You took a long time.”
Alejandro dropped to his knees.
She ran into his arms.
May you like
And for the first time in twenty years, the most feared man in Chicago began to cry.
But behind them, somewhere beneath the hospital, Vittorio Moretti began to applaud.
Related Stories
