Chapter 5 - THE DAUGHTER WHO NEVER DIEDThe coordinates arrived twenty minutes later.
They did not point to Vermont.
They pointed to an abandoned church outside Albany.
Marco wanted to go with him.
Aleandro refused.
“Samuel said alone.”
“And you believe him?”
“No.”
“Then why obey?”
“Because Sophie is three years old.”
Elena sat on the edge of her bed while a doctor stitched the cut above her temple.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“And if this is a trap, Sophie needs one parent alive.”
Elena stood despite the doctor’s protest.
“You think being a Mafia boss means you’re the only person allowed to risk your life?”
“No.”
Aleandro met her gaze.
“I think being the man they specifically demanded means I’m the person who goes.”
He handed her a phone.
“I’ll keep this line open.”
Two hours later, Aleandro entered the ruined church alone.
Rain tapped against broken stained glass.
No Sophie.
No Samuel.
Only a phone sitting on the altar.
It rang.
Aleandro answered.
“Where is she?”
Samuel’s voice replied.
“Walk behind the altar.”
A trapdoor waited beneath rotting carpet.
Aleandro opened it.
Stairs descended into darkness.
At the bottom stood a man Aleandro had believed dead for four years.
Samuel Vale looked seventy instead of sixty-five.
Gray beard.
Sunken eyes.
A pistol in one hand.
Aleandro immediately aimed his own weapon.
“Where’s Sophie?”
“Safe.”
“Show me.”
Samuel pointed toward a steel door.
Aleandro opened it.
Sophie sat on a cot watching cartoons on a tablet.
A woman in medical scrubs sat beside her.
Sophie jumped up.
“Mr. Aleandro!”
He crouched as she ran to him.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Can I go to Mommy?”
“Yes.”
Samuel spoke.
“Not yet.”
Aleandro stood.
“You have ten seconds to explain why I shouldn’t kill you.”
“Because I’m the only reason Isabella is still alive.”
Aleandro’s gun remained steady.
“Take me to her.”
“I can’t.”
“Then we’re finished.”
Samuel looked exhausted.
“Isabella has a rare autoimmune disorder triggered by experimental treatment your father authorized after the accident.”
Aleandro stared.
“My father experimented on my daughter?”
“Vittorio wanted the trust.”
“Explain.”
Samuel lowered his weapon.
“Your grandfather’s trust structure required living genetic heirs from two related maternal branches. Vittorio discovered Isabella and my son Daniel fulfilled those conditions.”
“So you kidnapped her for money?”
“No.”
Samuel’s voice cracked.
“Vittorio did.”
Aleandro nearly pulled the trigger.
Samuel continued quickly.
“He ordered the crash staged. Isabella was supposed to survive with minor injuries. The hospital transfer would make her legally dead, allowing Vittorio to control the trust through guardianship documents nobody else knew existed.”
“And you helped.”
“Yes.”
No excuse.
That surprised Aleandro.
Samuel simply accepted the accusation.
“I helped because Vittorio threatened Daniel.”
“Your son.”
Samuel nodded.
“Daniel discovered what we were doing. He wanted to expose us.”
“And his accident?”
“Also staged.”
“Is he alive?”
Samuel looked away.
“He was.”
Elena’s heartbreak flashed through Aleandro’s mind.
“What happened?”
“Daniel escaped our custody three years ago. Vittorio’s men found him.”
“Dead?”
“I believe so.”
“You believe?”
“I never saw the body.”
Aleandro forced himself to stay focused.
“Why Sophie?”
“Daniel left a daughter. Her genetics overlap with Isabella’s. Isabella needs a stem-cell donor with specific markers.”
Aleandro felt sick.
“You kidnapped a three-year-old to harvest her cells?”
“Bone marrow. Not enough to kill her.”
Aleandro crossed the distance between them and slammed Samuel into the wall.
“You don’t get credit for planning to leave her alive.”
Samuel coughed.
“I had no choice.”
“You always had a choice.”
A little voice behind them said, “Stop.”
Aleandro released him.
Sophie stood in the doorway holding Button.
He immediately lowered his gun.
“Go back inside, sweetheart.”
“Is the sick girl your daughter?”
Aleandro stared.
Samuel had told her.
Sophie looked toward Samuel.
“He said she needs help.”
Aleandro’s voice softened.
“She does.”
“Then we help her.”
The innocence of it broke something.
Children believed saving someone should be simple.
Adults constructed entire empires around making it impossible.
Aleandro looked at Samuel.
“Where is Isabella?”
Samuel hesitated.
Aleandro raised the weapon again.
“Vermont.”
“Northstar.”
Samuel’s eyes widened.
“You know.”
“I know enough.”
“They’re moving her tonight.”
“Who?”
“Vincent.”
Aleandro felt no surprise this time.
“Caruso?”
“He inherited Vittorio’s network after your father died.”
Aleandro thought of the man who had sat at his table for twenty years.
Vincent had arranged Isabella’s christening.
He had attended her funeral.
He had stood beside Aleandro at the grave.
“Why?”
“Money.”
Of course.
Samuel looked at Sophie.
“Vincent discovered her existence six months ago. He knew she could replace Daniel in the trust mechanism. Once Isabella dies, Sophie becomes even more valuable.”
Aleandro’s stomach turned.
“So Isabella is inconvenient now.”
“Yes.”
“And you took Sophie first.”
“I was trying to keep Vincent from getting her.”
“You could have asked.”
Samuel gave a bitter laugh.
“Asked Aleandro Moretti for help after stealing his daughter?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you’d kill me.”
“I still might.”
Samuel nodded.
“Fair.”
Aleandro’s phone vibrated.
Marco.
He answered.
“I found Caruso,” Marco said.
“Where?”
“Gone. His house is empty. Private plane filed for Montreal, then disappeared from tracking.”
“Northstar?”
“We’re moving.”
“No. Wait for me.”
“Aleandro—”
“Wait.”
Samuel stared at him.
“You’re wasting time.”
Aleandro turned.
“Isabella’s condition?”
“Unstable.”
“How long?”
“Maybe hours.”
“Then we go now.”
He picked up Sophie.
“Samuel, you’re coming.”
Samuel frowned.
“You trust me?”
“No.”
Aleandro’s voice was ice.
“But you’re going to walk in front of me the entire way.”
The drive to Vermont took almost four hours.
Elena met them halfway with Marco and a convoy of trusted men.
The moment Sophie saw her mother, she screamed.
“Mommy!”
Elena ran.
Aleandro handed Sophie over.
Elena buried her face in her daughter’s hair, sobbing.
For several moments, nobody spoke.
Then Elena looked at Samuel.
Her expression changed.
“You.”
Samuel removed his glasses.
“Elena.”
“You told me Daniel was dead.”
Samuel’s eyes filled.
“I thought he was.”
“You took my daughter.”
“To save—”
Elena slapped him.
Hard.
Samuel did not resist.
“That,” Elena said, shaking, “was for Daniel.”
She slapped him again.
“And that was for Sophie.”
Marco almost smiled.
Then headlights appeared.
Aleandro’s convoy continued north.
At 2:11 a.m., they reached Northstar.
The facility sat deep among Vermont pines behind rusting gates.
It looked abandoned.
Samuel knew otherwise.
“Underground levels,” he said. “Three.”
They entered through a service tunnel.
No gunfight came.
That worried Aleandro.
The halls were too quiet.
Rooms had been emptied.
Computers removed.
Files burned.
Vincent had been expecting them.
They reached the medical wing.
A hospital bed sat empty.
Aleandro touched the pillow.
Still warm.
“Where is she?”
Samuel checked monitors.
“They moved her minutes ago.”
Marco’s voice came through the radio.
“Vehicles leaving north gate!”
Aleandro ran.
By the time he reached the exterior loading area, a black ambulance was disappearing down the mountain road.
“Go!”
Cars pursued.
Rain turned to sleet.
The ambulance took the curves dangerously fast.
Aleandro stayed directly behind it.
Then the ambulance suddenly stopped.
Its rear doors opened.
A man stepped out holding a pistol against the head of a thin twelve-year-old girl.
Aleandro slammed on the brakes.
Everything inside him vanished.
The girl wore a hospital gown beneath a coat.
Dark curls hung around her pale face.
Beneath her left ear was the little moon-shaped mark.
Aleandro forgot the gun.
Forgot Vincent.
Forgot the road.
“Isabella.”
The girl stared at him.
No recognition appeared.
Vincent Caruso smiled behind her.
“Five years is a long time, Aleandro.”
Aleandro’s voice broke.
“Bella.”
The girl flinched.
Vincent pressed the gun harder against her head.
“She doesn’t remember you.”
Aleandro’s heart shattered.
May you like
Vincent smiled.
“We made sure of that.”
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