Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE WITHOUT WINDOWS
Bianca did not run.
That was the first reason I believed she might be innocent.
She stood in the hospital room while Adrian’s men searched her handbag, took her phone, and removed the slim silver blade hidden inside her boot.
“Do you carry that everywhere?” I asked.
She looked at the knife.
“We grew up in the same family, Elena. You know the answer.”
Adrian examined the delivery records on Gabriel’s tablet.
“Twelve shipments,” he said. “All approved through your foundation account.”
“I never approved them.”
“The authorization required your fingerprint.”
“Then someone copied it.”
“Your fingerprint cannot be copied.”
Bianca gave him a tired look.
“Your security company designed the system. Ask Gabriel whether it can be copied.”
Everyone turned toward him.
Gabriel remained calm.
“In theory, any biometric system can be compromised.”
“How?” Adrian asked.
“A high-resolution print, a silicone mold, or access to the master override.”
“Who has the override?”
“I do.”
Bianca’s laugh held no humor.
“That is convenient.”
Gabriel ignored her.
“The override records every use. It was not activated.”
“Unless you erased the record,” she said.
Adrian raised one hand.
“Enough.”
The single word silenced them.
He looked at his sister.
“Until I know the truth, you remain under guard.”
“I came here voluntarily.”
“And you will remain voluntarily if you have nothing to hide.”
Bianca’s chin lifted.
“Fine.”
Dr. Sloan stepped between them.
“She cannot remain in this room. My patient needs quiet.”
Adrian ordered two guards to escort Bianca to an empty office.
As she passed my bed, she stopped.
“I did not poison you.”
“I want to believe that.”
“Then remember who helped you leave.”
“You also made me believe Adrian wanted me dead.”
Pain crossed her face.
“I chose the lie that kept you alive.”
She followed the guards out.
Adrian remained near the door.
“You believe her.”
“I believe she’s frightened.”
“That does not make her innocent.”
“No. But neither does an authorization record make her guilty.”
He looked at Gabriel.
“Trace every person who accessed the foundation system.”
“We’ve already started.”
“What about the vitamins?”
“The laboratory is comparing the capsules to the substance in Elena’s blood.”
“Find the manufacturer, distributor, driver, and anyone who touched the package.”
Gabriel nodded and left.
Dr. Sloan checked the monitor again.
“Your blood work is improving, but the placental bleeding is still present. I want to keep you here overnight.”
Adrian glanced toward the hallway.
“No.”
The doctor stared at him.
“Excuse me?”
“This location is compromised.”
“She cannot travel.”
“She can travel if the vehicle contains everything this room contains.”
“You cannot build a hospital inside a car.”
“I already did.”
I looked at him.
“Why do you own an armored medical vehicle?”
“Because ambulances are easy to attack.”
The fact that he answered so casually made Dr. Sloan blink.
Adrian continued.
“My family has a medical residence north of the city. It has a surgical suite, neonatal equipment, blood storage, and independent power.”
Dr. Sloan crossed her arms.
“Who operates it?”
“Dr. Marcus Levin.”
Her expression changed.
“You know him?”
“He trained me.”
“Then call him,” Adrian said. “Ask whether the facility can handle her condition.”
Dr. Sloan made the call herself.
Ten minutes later, she reluctantly agreed to the transfer.
The bleeding had slowed.
My daughter’s heartbeat remained strong.
And the private Moretti medical residence offered something the clinic could no longer guarantee.
Controlled access.
Before we left, Adrian placed his coat over my shoulders.
I noticed a dark stain on the cuff.
Blood from Gabriel’s arm.
The sight brought the ledger back to my mind.
C.M.
G.V.
B.M.
I had hidden the original pages for six months.
Now every person whose initials appeared on them was standing near my child.
“Adrian,” I whispered.
He leaned closer.
“There is something I need to show you.”
“What?”
“Not here.”
He studied me.
“Does it involve my father?”
“Yes.”
His face hardened, but he did not press me.
The transfer took place after sunset.
The armored medical vehicle looked like an ordinary black van from the outside. Inside, it contained a bed, monitors, oxygen tanks, medication cabinets, and enough equipment to perform an emergency procedure.
Dr. Sloan sat beside me.
A neonatal nurse occupied the opposite seat.
Adrian rode near my feet with a pistol beneath his coat.
Three vehicles traveled in front of us.
Three followed behind.
Police officers stopped traffic at every intersection, though I doubted they knew why.
Chicago passed beyond the tinted windows.
Restaurants glowed with evening light. Couples hurried beneath streetlamps. A father carried a sleeping child across a crosswalk.
For them, it was an ordinary night.
For me, every passing car might contain someone paid to end my daughter’s life.
The Moretti medical residence stood on forty acres near Lake Forest.
I had visited once during our marriage.
Adrian’s father built the property after an assassination attempt left him unable to enter a public hospital safely. From the road, it resembled a modern country estate.
The medical wing was hidden underground.
There were no windows.
No cellular signals.
No public records of its existence.
Adrian called it the house without windows.
I called it a beautiful prison.
Dr. Levin met us in the underground garage.
He was a broad-shouldered man in his sixties with silver hair and impatient eyes.
“Thirty-four weeks?” he asked while walking beside the bed.
“Yes,” Dr. Sloan replied.
“Fetal status?”
“Stable after two decelerations.”
“Bleeding?”
“Contained for now.”
“Clotting levels?”
“Improving.”
Dr. Levin looked at Adrian.
“Who poisoned her?”
“We’re finding out.”
“You attract trouble the way open wounds attract flies.”
“I missed you too, Marcus.”
They moved me into a private suite connected to an operating room.
The space looked like an expensive bedroom until panels in the walls opened to reveal medical equipment.
Adrian’s men secured the property.
Dr. Sloan and Dr. Levin reviewed my records while a nurse attached new monitors.
For the first time in hours, I was given water from a sealed bottle.
Adrian opened it himself.
“You don’t need to inspect everything,” I said.
“Yes, I do.”
“What happens when you fall asleep?”
“I won’t.”
“You cannot stay awake forever.”
“Watch me.”
That was the Adrian I remembered.
The man who treated exhaustion as a personal weakness and danger as something that could be defeated through stubbornness.
I reached toward the small suitcase Gabriel’s team had collected from my apartment.
“Bring that to me.”
Adrian placed it on the bed.
I removed a folded blue sweater, a pair of maternity jeans, and a children’s book I had purchased for our daughter.
Beneath the lining was a thin leather envelope.
Adrian recognized his father’s initials stamped into the corner.
His body became still.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your study.”
“When?”
“Seven months ago.”
I handed him the envelope.
Inside were photographs of the ledger pages.
Adrian examined the first sheet.
His expression did not change.
He turned to the second.
Then the third.
When he reached the page containing the initials, he stopped.
“Where is the original?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“I mailed it to someone.”
“Who?”
“A federal prosecutor.”
Adrian looked up sharply.
“What did you do?”
“I created instructions. If anything happened to me, the ledger would be delivered.”
“To which prosecutor?”
“I don’t know his name.”
“You sent evidence about my family to a stranger?”
“I sent it to an attorney who promised to choose someone honest.”
“There are no honest prosecutors.”
“There are no honest men in your world either.”
His eyes darkened.
“Do you understand what is in these pages?”
“I understand enough.”
“These accounts connect judges, police commanders, unions, and companies across four states. If this becomes public, hundreds of people will move to protect themselves.”
“That was the point.”
“They will not protect themselves with lawyers, Elena.”
“They were already trying to kill me.”
“You should have come to me.”
“I thought you ordered my death.”
His anger disappeared.
I told him about the edited recording.
The open drawer.
The photograph on my pillow.
The warning that the Moretti bloodline would end if I spoke.
Adrian sat beside me in silence.
When I finished, he looked older.
“I told Gabriel to make you disappear.”
I stared at him.
“The recording was real?”
“The sentence was real. The meaning was not.”
He pressed his hands together.
“Carlo had asked questions about your movements. I believed he was preparing to use you against me. I ordered Gabriel to create a new identity for you and move you to Europe.”
“You never told me.”
“I planned to.”
“Instead, you sent divorce papers.”
“Two days before I could move you, I received photographs showing you meeting with a federal agent.”
“I never met a federal agent.”
“I know that now.”
“Who sent the photographs?”
“Bianca.”
I felt suddenly cold.
“She said she helped me.”
“She sent the photographs anonymously. I traced them to one of her accounts.”
“Did you confront her?”
“She admitted it.”
“Why?”
“She said she believed you were giving information to the government.”
“That makes no sense.”
“No,” Adrian said. “It doesn’t.”
A knock sounded.
Gabriel entered carrying a silver tray.
“Dr. Levin ordered food.”
Adrian stood immediately.
“Who prepared it?”
“The kitchen staff. I supervised.”
Gabriel lifted the cover.
Soup.
Bread.
Fresh fruit.
The scent of tomatoes made my stomach turn.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat,” Adrian said.
Gabriel placed the tray on the table.
His bandaged arm had begun to bleed through the gauze.
“You should have that checked,” I said.
“It’s a scratch.”
“It needed stitches.”
“Four.”
Adrian handed him the photographs.
“Have you seen these before?”
Gabriel looked at the pages.
For the first time since I had known him, genuine shock crossed his face.
“Where did you get them?”
“Elena found Father’s ledger.”
Gabriel reached the page with the initials.
His face became unreadable again.
“What do they mean?” Adrian asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Your initials are there.”
“So are Bianca’s and Carlo’s.”
“Did you see my father on the day he died?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“At the marina.”
“Who else was present?”
“Carlo. Bianca arrived later.”
“Why?”
“Your father asked to speak with her privately.”
“About what?”
“He didn’t say.”
Adrian moved closer.
“Think carefully.”
Gabriel met his eyes.
“I have spent nine years thinking about that day.”
A sharp noise interrupted him.
Glass breaking.
All three of us turned toward the door.
Adrian drew his weapon.
Gabriel touched his earpiece.
“Report.”
No response.
He tried again.
“North corridor, report.”
Static answered.
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then the room went dark.
Emergency lights should have activated immediately.
They did not.
The heart monitor switched to battery power, casting a pale glow across the bed.
Adrian moved in front of me.
Gabriel opened the door a few inches.
The hallway beyond was black.
From somewhere above us came the faint sound of gunfire.
One shot.
Then another.
May you like
The house without windows had lost power.
And someone outside had just opened the gates.
