Chapter 9
Emma left the room before anyone could stop her.
Not because she wanted privacy.
Because she was afraid if she stayed, she would throw the tablet through a window.
Luca found her in the greenhouse.
Barely ten minutes later.
She didn’t turn.
“Go away.”
“No.”
“Of course.”
He stood beside her.
Plants surrounded them.
Sofia had built the greenhouse when Luca was twelve.
It had always smelled like soil and oranges.
Today it smelled like lies.
“Did Elias hire Victor?”
“I don’t know.”
“Useful.”
“I’m going to find out.”
Emma laughed.
“You all keep saying that after the damage is done.”
Luca absorbed it.
She turned.
“My father is alive. My mother is alive. Your mother was married to Vanessa’s father. Vanessa helped forge a medical transfer. Martin kidnapped people. My father built an eighty-four-million-dollar trap. And now apparently he hired the man who bruised my face.”
“That is the current situation.”
“You’re terrible at comfort.”
“So I’ve been told.”
She looked away.
Then he said:
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For bringing you into this house.”
“You didn’t hire me.”
“No. But I kept you here after I knew things were wrong.”
“That’s not your fault.”
“Some of it is.”
She stared at him.
For once, no defense.
No charm.
No power.
Just guilt.
Emma sighed.
“I hate that I don’t hate you.”
Luca looked at her.
“That makes two of us.”
She almost smiled.
Then his phone rang.
Elias.
Emma refused to answer.
Luca did.
“Tell me.”
Elias said, “I hired Victor.”
Emma closed her eyes.
“Why?”
“To watch you.”
“That’s not better.”
“I know.”
“Why did he attack me?”
“He wasn’t supposed to.”
“Excellent management.”
Elias took it.
“I learned Caldwell had found you.”
“So you hired a violent man to follow me.”
“I hired a former federal protection contractor.”
“Who punched me.”
“That wasn’t my instruction.”
“Then whose was it?”
Silence.
Emma’s eyes narrowed.
“Dad.”
“Victor started taking money from Martin.”
There it was.
Another betrayal.
Another man for sale.
Elias continued.
“I found out two weeks ago. I tried to pull him.”
“And?”
“He refused.”
“Why didn’t you warn me?”
“Because I was still trapped at the clinic.”
Emma’s anger weakened.
Only slightly.
“You could call Sofia but not me?”
“They monitored my calls.”
“Then how did you call her?”
“I bribed a night orderly.”
“With what?”
Elias almost smiled.
“Information.”
Emma rubbed her face.
“You really are a Moretti.”
“Unfortunately.”
Luca said, “Where is Victor now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Martin?”
“No.”
“Caldwell?”
“No.”
Emma stared.
“Nobody knows anything.”
Then Sofia entered the greenhouse.
She looked stronger.
Not healthy.
But stronger.
She held an old leather notebook.
“I know something.”
Luca took it.
“What is this?”
“Vincent’s.”
He opened it.
Dates.
Initials.
Flight numbers.
Payments.
Then one page marked with a red line.
R.C. — M.V. — V.H.
Caldwell.
Martin Vale.
Victor Hale.
Beside them:
PROJECT ORPHEUS.
Emma frowned.
“What is that?”
Sofia shook her head.
“Vincent never explained.”
Luca turned pages.
More entries.
Ports.
Medical transfers.
Private facilities.
False death certificates.
Emma’s stomach dropped.
“False deaths.”
Sofia nodded.
“People disappeared through hospitals.”
Luca understood.
“Like Elias.”
“Yes.”
Emma stared at the title.
Project Orpheus.
Bringing the dead back.
Or making the living dead.
Agent Bennett arrived and photographed every page.
Within an hour, federal teams linked three facilities to Moretti logistics contracts.
One was in New Jersey.
One in Ohio.
One in Virginia.
The Virginia site stood out.
A private rehabilitation center called St. Agnes.
Emma froze.
“That was on Sofia’s transfer form.”
Luca looked at her.
Of course.
They had tried to send Sofia into the same network.
Bennett ordered a raid.
By late afternoon, agents entered St. Agnes.
The facility appeared ordinary.
Until they opened the basement.
Twelve patients.
All listed as deceased in public records.
Witnesses.
Accountants.
A former prosecutor.
A union leader.
And one man who recognized Luca.
“Your father.”
Luca stopped.
“What?”
The man stared at him.
“Vincent.”
“My father is dead.”
The patient began laughing.
“No.”
He pointed down the corridor.
“Room seventeen.”
Luca ran.
Emma followed.
Room seventeen was empty.
Bed warm.
Window open.
On the pillow lay a single photograph.
Vincent Moretti.
Alive.
Older.
Standing beside Martin Vale.
Taken less than a month ago.
On the back:
HE CHOSE US.
Luca stared.
“No.”
Emma picked up another item.
A wedding invitation.
Luca Moretti & Vanessa Caldwell.
Their engagement party date circled.
Under it, handwriting:
THE SON WILL FINISH WHAT THE FATHER STARTED.
Luca whispered:
“My father is alive.”
The discovery of Vincent’s photograph changed Luca more than Emma expected. Grief had been part of his identity for a decade. Learning that the dead could return did not remove grief; it made every year of it feel manipulated. He stood outside Room Seventeen for several minutes after the agents left, staring at the empty bed. Emma did not tell him everything would be fine. She simply stayed beside him.
No one in the house slept normally after that. Every answer created another question, and every question reached further into the past. What had once looked like one forged medical transfer now looked like the edge of a system built on silence, fear, and family loyalty used as a weapon.
The discovery of Vincent’s photograph changed Luca more than Emma expected. Grief had been part of his identity for a decade. Learning that the dead could return did not remove grief; it made every year of it feel manipulated. He stood outside Room Seventeen for several minutes after the agents left, staring at the empty bed. Emma did not tell him everything would be fine. She simply stayed beside him.
No one in the house slept normally after that. Every answer created another question, and every question reached further into the past. What had once looked like one forged medical transfer now looked like the edge of a system built on silence, fear, and family loyalty used as a weapon.
The discovery of Vincent’s photograph changed Luca more than Emma expected. Grief had been part of his identity for a decade. Learning that the dead could return did not remove grief; it made every year of it feel manipulated. He stood outside Room Seventeen for several minutes after the agents left, staring at the empty bed. Emma did not tell him everything would be fine. She simply stayed beside him.
No one in the house slept normally after that. Every answer created another question, and every question reached further into the past. What had once looked like one forged medical transfer now looked like the edge of a system built on silence, fear, and family loyalty used as a weapon.
The discovery of Vincent’s photograph changed Luca more than Emma expected. Grief had been part of his identity for a decade. Learning that the dead could return did not remove grief; it made every year of it feel manipulated. He stood outside Room Seventeen for several minutes after the agents left, staring at the empty bed. Emma did not tell him everything would be fine. She simply stayed beside him.
No one in the house slept normally after that. Every answer created another question, and every question reached further into the past. What had once looked like one forged medical transfer now looked like the edge of a system built on silence, fear, and family loyalty used as a weapon.
The discovery of Vincent’s photograph changed Luca more than Emma expected. Grief had been part of his identity for a decade. Learning that the dead could return did not remove grief; it made every year of it feel manipulated. He stood outside Room Seventeen for several minutes after the agents left, staring at the empty bed. Emma did not tell him everything would be fine. She simply stayed beside him.
No one in the house slept normally after that. Every answer created another question, and every question reached further into the past. What had once looked like one forged medical transfer now looked like the edge of a system built on silence, fear, and family loyalty used as a weapon.
The discovery of Vincent’s photograph changed Luca more than Emma expected. Grief had been part of his identity for a decade. Learning that the dead could return did not remove grief; it made every year of it feel manipulated. He stood outside Room Seventeen for several minutes after the agents left, staring at the empty bed. Emma did not tell him everything would be fine. She simply stayed beside him.
No one in the house slept normally after that. Every answer created another question, and every question reached further into the past. What had once looked like one forged medical transfer now looked like the edge of a system built on silence, fear, and family loyalty used as a weapon.
May you like
The discovery of Vincent’s photograph changed Luca more than Emma expected. Grief had been part of his identity for a decade. Learning that the dead could return did not remove grief; it made every year of it feel manipulated. He stood outside Room Seventeen for several minutes after the agents left, staring at the empty bed. Emma did not tell him everything would be fine. She simply stayed beside him.
No one in the house slept normally after that. Every answer created another question, and every question reached further into the past. What had once looked like one forged medical transfer now looked like the edge of a system built on silence, fear, and family loyalty used as a weapon.
