Chapter 4 - ELENA’S SAFE
We left through the hospital laundry dock.
I didn’t ask how Damian knew there was a laundry dock.
I decided I didn’t want to know.
His SUV tore through downtown Chicago with two vehicles behind us.
Leah sat between us.
I held her hand.
Damian checked his phone every ten seconds.
“You live like this?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Usually people aren’t trying to kill my waitress.”
“I am not your waitress.”
“Noted.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
Almost.
We drove to a stone mansion north of the city.
I stared at it.
“No.”
Damian sighed.
“What now?”
“I’m not staying here.”
“It has cameras, guards, reinforced doors, and three secure exits.”
“That is not helping your argument.”
Leah pulled my sleeve.
“Stay.”
One word.
Soft.
Clear.
I looked at her.
Damian looked away.
That hurt more than I expected.
Inside, I was shown to a guest room.
I didn’t sleep.
At two in the morning, someone knocked.
Damian stood outside.
He held a small brass key.
“What is that?”
“Elena’s.”
I followed him downstairs.
Behind his office was a smaller room filled with books.
He moved one shelf.
There was a wall safe.
“You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“Of course you have a secret safe behind a bookshelf.”
“It came with the house.”
“That somehow makes it worse.”
He almost smiled.
Then he inserted the key.
Inside were envelopes, jewelry, photographs, and a small flash drive.
Damian froze.
“What?”
“I searched this safe after Elena died.”
“And?”
“That wasn’t here.”
He picked up an envelope.
His name was written across it.
DAMIAN — IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO ME.
He sat down.
For the first time, his hands shook.
He opened it.
Inside was one page.
Damian read silently.
Then his face collapsed.
“Read it,” I said.
He couldn’t.
So he handed it to me.
Damian,
Leah is innocent.
So are you.
The child we were given was stolen from another mother.
I found proof.
I tried to fix it quietly because I was afraid of what Vincent would do.
I was right to be afraid.
If I don’t get the chance to tell you myself, find Leah’s real mother.
Her name is Emma Carter.
My vision blurred.
I read the name again.
Then again.
My knees went weak.
Damian stared at the floor.
I could barely speak.
“She knew me?”
“Apparently.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who is Vincent?”
Damian didn’t answer immediately.
“Vincent Vale.”
“That means nothing to me.”
“It should mean something to me.”
His voice turned bitter.
“He raised me after my father died.”
A cold feeling spread through my stomach.
“Your family?”
“More than family.”
“And Elena was afraid of him?”
Damian nodded.
I looked at the flash drive.
“Put it in.”
He did.
One folder appeared.
Inside were scanned hospital files.
Birth records.
Payments.
Names.
At least fourteen babies.
I covered my mouth.
“Oh my God.”
Damian opened the file marked CARTER.
My hospital record filled the screen.
Healthy female infant.
Seven pounds, two ounces.
No complications.
Alive.
My body went numb.
“No.”
The next document was a death certificate.
Same date.
Same doctor.
Different handwriting.
Damian clicked again.
A transfer form.
My daughter had been transferred to a private neonatal unit under another name.
LEAH ELENA CARUSO.
I stopped breathing.
Damian whispered, “Jesus Christ.”
Then the computer screen went black.
A red message appeared.
REMOTE ACCESS DETECTED.
Damian grabbed the flash drive.
Too late.
A second message appeared.
HELLO, DAMIAN.
Then another.
ELENA SHOULD HAVE DESTROYED THIS.
May you like
A final line appeared.
NOW I’LL HAVE TO FINISH WHAT SHE STARTED.
