Chapter 7 - Beneath the Chapel
We entered St. Helena through the morgue.
It seemed appropriate.
For thirty years, the hospital had used death as a doorway. Dead mothers became new identities. Dead infants became leverage. Empty coffins became convenient conclusions.
Now death would conceal our arrival.
Claire met us beside a refrigerated transport truck in the underground loading bay. She was thirty-four, thin, with dark circles beneath sharp green eyes. A scar ran from the base of her neck beneath her jacket.
The bullet Matteo had warned her about.
My son rested inside a portable incubator beside Dr. Mercer. Teresa and Sophia remained at a safe house with Anthony’s most trusted men.
I wanted Sophia as far from St. Helena as possible.
Claire had objected.
“The microfilm is still inside the bracelet,” she said.
“We removed it.”
“And the girl?”
“Protected.”
“Voss will keep searching.”
“Then we end this tonight.”
Claire looked at the body bag on the gurney beside us.
Inside lay my father.
For once, Salvatore Moretti’s death was real.
Claire zipped the bag closed.
“Voss wanted proof.”
“He can have it.”
Matteo wore hospital maintenance coveralls. Valentina had changed into a nurse’s uniform. I wore the suit of a hospital security supervisor whose ID Anthony’s people had copied.
Mercer stayed with the baby inside the truck.
“If his oxygen level drops, I leave,” he said.
“You leave now if you need to.”
“I did not spend forty years keeping Morettis alive to let the smallest one die in a loading bay.”
I placed my hand against the incubator.
My son slept beneath warm blankets.
“We are bringing him home.”
The words were a promise to him and a warning to everyone inside the building.
Claire led us through the service corridor.
The hospital looked peaceful at dawn. Nurses pushed carts beneath soft lights. Machines beeped behind closed doors. Families slept in waiting rooms, trusting the people around them.
That trust was what made the place dangerous.
Voss did not need armed men in every hallway.
He wore authority like armor.
We reached the chapel elevator without being stopped.
The brass key from my father opened a panel behind a carved wooden cross.
Claire inserted it.
The elevator descended.
There was no button marked Ward E.
The display moved below the basement level and went dark.
Valentina stood beside me.
“You said the child is still yours even if the DNA was not.”
“He is.”
“What if the records say I am connected to him in some terrible way?”
I looked at her.
“Nothing written in this building decides whether you are his mother.”
Tears formed in her eyes.
“I should have told you about the bracelet.”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid you would think I helped them.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then why did you run from the estate?”
“I received a message saying Sophia’s mother had been taken. They told me to come alone.”
“Teresa was still inside the house.”
“I did not know that. The message contained a photograph of her tied to a chair.”
“A false image.”
“Yes.”
“You could have told me.”
She looked down.
“I had already hidden so much. I thought you would stop me.”
“I would have.”
“That is why.”
The elevator doors opened.
Ward E smelled like antiseptic and warm milk.
A long corridor stretched beneath the chapel. Behind glass walls stood six private neonatal rooms.
Five contained infants.
No names.
Only numbers.
Valentina pressed her hand to the glass.
“Oh, God.”
Claire moved to the central desk and accessed the computer.
“Every child here has been officially declared dead.”
Matteo looked through the nearest window.
“What happens to them?”
“Some are placed with families who pay Voss. Some are held until their biological parents agree to political or financial demands. Others disappear into foreign clinics.”
I felt rage rise through me, but anger without control would not save them.
“Download everything.”
Claire connected an encrypted drive.
The screen requested two administrator keys.
“One is Voss’s,” she said. “The other belonged to Salvatore.”
I placed my father’s ring against the biometric reader.
A green light appeared.
The download began.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor.
We turned.
A woman stood at the far end of Ward E.
She was in her late fifties, with silver-blond hair and a dark coat buttoned to her throat.
Matteo stopped breathing.
“Rebecca?”
The woman looked at him.
“My son.”
He moved toward her.
Claire drew her gun.
“Do not.”
Matteo ignored her.
Rebecca Lane opened her arms.
For one second, my brother looked like a child.
Then I saw the device in her hand.
“Matteo, stop!”
He froze.
Rebecca raised a small remote.
Red lights appeared above every infant room.
Claire looked at the control panel.
“She has locked the oxygen systems.”
Rebecca’s expression showed no emotion.
“Dr. Voss wants Salvatore’s archive drive.”
“You will kill five babies?” Valentina asked.
“I was told my son would die if I refused.”
Matteo stepped forward.
“I am standing here.”
“You are not the son he means.”
The words cut through him.
Rebecca looked at me.
“Salvatore fathered another child after he placed me in hiding.”
“Who?”
“Adrian Voss.”
Silence.
Voss was my father’s son.
My half-brother.
The man who had declared my child dead was not merely a business partner or criminal physician. He was part of the family my father had built from lies.
Rebecca’s thumb hovered over the remote.
“Give me the drive.”
The download reached sixty percent.
Claire whispered, “If she presses it, the oxygen doors seal. The children have less than four minutes.”
I looked at Matteo.
He stared at the woman who had given birth to him.
“Mother,” he said, “Voss tried to kill you.”
Rebecca’s eyes flickered.
“He saved me from Salvatore.”
“He kept you imprisoned.”
“He protected me.”
“He made you believe another son mattered more.”
Rebecca tightened her grip.
“You know nothing.”
“I know he sent a sniper to kill Father while you were close enough to be blamed.”
Her face changed.
Matteo took another step.
“I know he never came here himself. He sent you because he is willing to let you die.”
“Stop.”
“He does not love you.”
“Stop.”
“He is using you the way Father used everyone.”
Rebecca’s hand trembled.
The download reached eighty-two percent.
An alarm began to sound.
Not the oxygen system.
Security.
Voss knew we were inside.
Claire aimed at Rebecca.
“Drop the remote.”
Rebecca looked at her two sons.
One she had carried.
One she had spent years trying to protect.
Then she pressed the button.
Steel shutters began descending over the infant rooms.
Valentina ran toward the first door.
I lunged at Rebecca.
The remote fell and skidded beneath the desk.
Red numbers appeared on the wall.
03:59
May you like
Five children began to cry.
And somewhere above us, the chapel bells started ringing for morning mass.
