Chapter 10 - Taken
Dante did not shout.
That terrified Clara more than shouting would have.
He stood in the middle of her destroyed bedroom while Luca repeated the words.
“Camera shows Isabella’s vehicle at 5:03. She had access codes.”
“How?”
“We’re checking.”
Dante looked at Julian.
Julian’s face had gone gray.
“Mother had old master credentials.”
“You knew?”
“No.”
Dante stepped toward him.
“Think carefully.”
“I swear.”
“Your promises are cheap.”
Julian accepted the blow without argument.
Clara grabbed her coat.
“We need to go.”
Dante turned.
“Where?”
“The safe house.”
“Sophia isn’t there.”
“But evidence is.”
He stared.
“Isabella left the heart deliberately.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Clara thought of Sophia drawing the X.
“She’s mocking her.”
Or sending a message.
At the safe house, Clara went straight to Sophia’s room.
The crossed-out chocolate heart had been drawn on paper.
Not chocolate.
Under it were two letters.
M.H.
Dante frowned.
“Mean anything?”
Clara shook her head.
Julian entered.
He saw the letters.
His expression changed.
“Mercy Hospital.”
Dante looked at him.
“What?”
“Our old family hospital.”
“Closed ten years ago.”
“Partially.”
Julian swallowed.
“The psychiatric wing still exists.”
Clara felt cold.
“Why would Isabella take her there?”
Julian did not answer.
Dante grabbed his collar.
“Why?”
“Because that’s where she took Michael before he died.”
Dante released him.
“What are you talking about?”
“Michael didn’t die immediately.”
Silence.
“He survived the crash?”
“Yes.”
Dante looked ready to collapse.
Julian continued.
“He was taken to Mercy.”
“Why wasn’t I told?”
“Isabella said he died at the scene.”
Dante’s voice became dangerous.
“How do you know?”
“I saw him.”
“When?”
“The next morning.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Dante closed his eyes.
Clara could see him rebuilding nineteen years of memory in real time.
“What happened to him?”
Julian’s voice became quiet.
“Isabella had him transferred. I never saw him again.”
“Transferred where?”
“I don’t know.”
Dante turned toward Luca.
“Mercy.”
They arrived twenty-three minutes later.
The old hospital stood behind fencing.
Only one wing had power.
Inside, the halls smelled of dust and antiseptic.
Dante’s men spread out.
Clara followed Dante.
Room after room.
Empty.
Then they found a child’s shoe.
Sophia’s.
Dante picked it up.
His control cracked.
“Sophia!”
His voice echoed.
No answer.
Then a speaker mounted near the ceiling clicked.
Isabella’s voice.
“You always were impatient.”
Dante looked up.
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
“I will kill you.”
“No.”
Isabella sounded almost sad.
“You won’t.”
“Try me.”
“I raised you better.”
Dante laughed once.
“You raised me to believe my brother was dead.”
“He was weak.”
“He was alive.”
“For a while.”
The casualness of the answer stopped everyone.
Dante whispered, “What did you do?”
“Necessary things.”
Clara looked at Julian.
He seemed sick.
Isabella continued.
“Come to the old surgical theater.”
Dante started walking.
Clara grabbed him.
“She wants you angry.”
“I am angry.”
“That’s why she wants you.”
He looked at her.
“Then what do you suggest?”
“Don’t give her the version of you she knows how to control.”
He stared.
Then nodded.
They entered the surgical theater.
Sophia sat in a chair at the center.
Unharmed.
Isabella stood behind her.
No gun visible.
That made Clara more nervous.
“Daddy,” Sophia whispered.
Dante nearly ran toward her.
Isabella raised one hand.
A man appeared on the upper balcony with a rifle.
Pike’s replacement.
Dante stopped.
“Let her go.”
Isabella stroked Sophia’s hair.
“She looks like Elena.”
Sophia flinched.
“Don’t touch her.”
“Still emotional.”
Isabella smiled.
“Elena did that to you.”
“What do you want?”
“The ledger.”
Dante held it up.
“And the flash drive.”
Clara stepped forward.
“I have it.”
Isabella looked at her.
“So this is Clara.”
Clara met her gaze.
“You knew my father.”
“Unfortunately.”
“He knew what you were.”
“He was an accountant.”
“He was brave enough to scare you.”
Isabella’s smile disappeared.
Dante said, “Release Sophia first.”
“No.”
“Then you get nothing.”
The rifleman adjusted his aim.
Dante did not move.
Isabella sighed.
“You think this is about evidence?”
She looked down at Sophia.
“It stopped being about evidence three years ago.”
Clara frowned.
“Then what is it about?”
Isabella looked at Dante.
“Legacy.”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“She is seven.”
“She is a Vancini.”
“She is my daughter.”
“Exactly.”
Isabella’s eyes sharpened.
“And she will inherit what Elena tried to destroy.”
“No.”
Dante’s answer was immediate.
Sophia looked at him.
“No?”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“She inherits nothing from this.”
Isabella laughed.
“You cannot erase blood.”
“I can end a business.”
“You would burn generations for one frightened child?”
“Yes.”
The answer echoed through the theater.
Sophia began crying.
Not from fear.
Something else.
Isabella stared at her son as though seeing him for the first time.
Then she said quietly, “Elena won.”
Dante shook his head.
“This was never a competition.”
The rifleman suddenly moved.
Clara saw it.
A laser point landed on Dante’s chest.
She shouted, “Down!”
A shot cracked.
Dante fell.
May you like
Sophia screamed.
And Isabella smiled.
