Chapter 2 - The Screen Went Black, But The Nightmare Began
The library was so quiet I could hear the hum of the deactivated breathing machine.
The video call on the floor had gone entirely black.
Dante Romano didn’t move.
He stood in the center of his library, staring at the blank screen of his phone, processing a betrayal so massive it defied human logic.
His father was alive.
His father had taken his missing daughter.
And his father was the one poisoning him.
Anthony broke the silence.
“Marco!” he shouted toward the hallway. “Trace that IP address right now! Do not let that signal bounce!”
Dante slowly raised his head.
He looked at Dr. Santoro.
The elderly doctor was trembling, gripping the edge of the leather sofa to keep himself upright.
“You knew,” Dante said.
His voice wasn’t a yell. It was a terrifying, hollow whisper.
“Dante, please,” Santoro choked out. “Your father… he threatened my family. He told me if I didn’t administer the protocol to you, he would kill my wife.”
“So you poisoned my husband instead?”
Bianca stepped forward, her red dress rustling in the quiet room. Her hands were clenched into fists.
Dante turned toward her.
“Don’t play the devoted fiancée, Bianca,” Dante said coldly. “You knew my brother was alive. What else are you hiding?”
Bianca’s face went pale.
“I didn’t know about your father, Dante. I swear on my life.”
I stepped between them. My nursing instincts were screaming.
Dante’s breathing was becoming shallow again. The adrenaline was masking his physical crash, but his lips were losing their color.
“Mr. Romano, sit down,” I ordered.
“Not now, Claire.”
“Now.” I grabbed his arm. His skin was ice cold. “Your blood pressure is dropping. If you pass out, you can’t find your daughter.”
That worked.
He sat heavily in the armchair.
Sofia was weeping silently by the fireplace, clutching a throw pillow to her chest.
“My mother,” Sofia whispered, her voice breaking. “If she had twins… why did she only keep me? Why didn’t she tell me I had a sister?”
Santoro looked at the floor.
“Because you were healthy, Sofia,” the doctor said quietly.
Everyone froze.
I looked at Santoro. “What do you mean, she was healthy?”
“The Romano Protocol,” Santoro explained, tears spilling down his wrinkled cheeks. “Your grandfather designed it to alter the family’s cellular structure for longevity. But it caused genetic defects in the second generation. Elizabeth’s twins were born premature. Sofia was perfect. But the other baby girl… she inherited the defect.”
Dante’s hands gripped the armrests until his knuckles turned white.
“My father wanted the defective child,” Dante realized, the horror dawning on him. “He wanted to study her. To perfect his sick experiment.”
“Yes,” Santoro whispered. “Elizabeth found out. She begged me to help her hide the sick twin. We faked a stillbirth. We gave the baby to a trusted family outside the syndicate.”
“Who?” Dante demanded, standing up again, ignoring my warning. “Who has my daughter?”
Santoro shook his head violently.
“I can’t tell you! If your father is alive, he’s monitoring everything! If I say her name, he’ll kill her!”
“He already has her, you fool!” Anthony roared, drawing his weapon.
“Anthony, put the gun down!” I shouted.
Before Anthony could react, Bianca reached into the neckline of her dress.
She pulled out a long silver chain.
Hanging from it was a heavy, antique silver locket.
“Santoro didn’t give the baby to a stranger,” Bianca said, her voice shaking with twenty years of suppressed grief. “He gave her to someone in this room.”
Dante stared at the locket.
“That was Elizabeth’s,” he whispered.
Bianca unclasped the necklace and handed it to Dante.
“Open it,” she said.
Dante’s hands trembled as he pressed the small silver latch.
The locket popped open.
Inside wasn’t a picture of Dante. It wasn’t a picture of Sofia.
It was a tiny, faded photograph of a baby girl.
And underneath the photo, engraved in the silver, was a name.
Elena.
Dante looked up, the air completely leaving his lungs.
“Elena?” he choked out. “The woman who runs the pediatric charity downtown? The woman you introduced to me two years ago?”
Bianca sobbed, covering her face.
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“She isn’t my friend, Dante,” Bianca cried. “She’s your daughter.”
And as the words hung in the air, my medical pager began to beep frantically with a terrifying, undeniable message.
