Chapter 8 - The ChoiceIsabelle had never seen Vincent afraid.
Angry, yes.
Violent, certainly.
Cold enough to terrify armed men without raising his voice.
But fear looked different upon him.
It made him terrifyingly calm.
The entire Moretti estate moved around him while Vincent stood beside Mateo’s empty bassinet and stared at nothing.
Dominic issued commands.
Security footage was retrieved.
Roadblocks formed.
Federal agents were alerted.
None of it seemed to reach Vincent.
Isabelle approached.
“Vincent.”
No response.
She touched his arm.
His eyes finally moved toward her.
“He has him.”
“I know.”
“I promised.”
His voice was barely audible.
“I promised nobody would touch him.”
“Vincent—”
“I failed.”
“No.”
“I placed 42 people around him.”
His control cracked.
“And Vale walked inside my house.”
Isabelle seized his face with both hands.
“Listen to me.”
He stared toward her.
“Mateo needs you thinking.”
That reached him.
“He does not need revenge.”
Vincent inhaled.
“He needs his father.”
Something inside him reset.
Not the crime boss.
The father.
He looked toward Dominic.
“Tell me how Vale entered.”
“A medical transport vehicle.”
“Authorization?”
“Forged.”
“Biometrics?”
“Valid.”
Dominic looked toward Evelyn.
“Your father used Dr. Harrison’s credentials.”
Harrison was found unconscious inside a supply room.
Vale had entered wearing surgical clothing and a mask.
He moved through the medical wing as though he belonged there.
Because years earlier, he had helped design parts of it.
Evelyn revealed the truth.
“My father consulted on the private medical facility before Isabella became ill.”
Vincent turned toward her.
“You never mentioned that.”
“I did not know this was the same property.”
“He knew the estate layout?”
“Parts of it.”
That explained everything.
Vale had not merely studied Vincent.
He had been inside the Moretti world before Vincent understood his importance.
The abandoned St. Augustine Hospital stood west of the city.
Closed for nearly 20 years.
Vincent’s father purchased it as part of a real-estate operation but never redeveloped it.
Vale knew nobody would question activity upon Moretti-owned property.
Dominic gathered 30 men.
Federal agents prepared a tactical unit.
Vincent stopped both.
“He said alone.”
“And you intend to listen?” Dominic asked.
“Yes.”
“No.”
Vincent looked toward him.
Dominic did not move.
“I have followed almost every suicidal order you have given me for 15 years.”
“This is different.”
“Yes.”
Dominic’s voice hardened.
“This time you have a family waiting for you.”
Vincent glanced toward Isabelle.
She stood with her arms crossed.
“I agree with him.”
“You are not coming.”
“I did not say I was.”
“That is suspiciously easy.”
“Because I am not asking permission.”
Vincent stared.
“No.”
Isabelle stepped closer.
“He knows me.”
“Exactly.”
“He chose me.”
“Exactly.”
“He may speak differently if he sees me.”
“No.”
“He wants Isabella’s letter.”
“I will take it.”
“And then what?”
Vincent said nothing.
“You walk into a hospital alone, hand him the letter, and hope a man who murdered women suddenly develops honor?”
“He has Mateo.”
“That is why you need a plan.”
Vincent’s expression tightened.
“I have one.”
“Walking toward a gun is not a plan simply because you look intimidating while doing it.”
Dominic coughed into his hand.
Vincent looked at him.
“Something amusing?”
“No.”
Isabelle continued.
“Vale expects Vincent Moretti.”
“What does that mean?”
“He expects the man everybody knows.”
“Dangerous?”
“Predictable.”
That offended him.
“I am not predictable.”
“You absolutely are.”
Dominic nodded once.
Vincent glared at him.
Isabelle almost smiled.
“You respond to threats with force.”
“I am excellent at force.”
“Which is why Vale designed this around it.”
She pointed toward the hospital plans.
“He chose a building you own.”
“He used your wife.”
“He stole your son.”
“Everything is designed to make you angry enough to stop thinking.”
Vincent looked toward the map.
She was right.
He hated that she was right.
“What do you propose?”
“We give him what he expects.”
“Me.”
“Yes.”
“But not alone.”
At 2:17 a.m., Vincent entered St. Augustine Hospital through the emergency department doors.
The building had no electricity except temporary lights powered through portable generators.
Dust covered the floor.
Old medical signs remained upon walls.
PEDIATRICS.
RADIOLOGY.
SURGERY.
Vincent wore no visible body armor.
His weapon remained concealed.
Isabella’s original letter rested inside his jacket.
He walked alone.
At least, Vale believed he did.
Dominic’s teams had entered through underground maintenance tunnels 20 minutes earlier.
Federal agents surrounded the property beyond visual range.
Isabelle waited inside an ambulance across the street.
That had been the agreement.
She hated every second of it.
A speaker inside the hospital activated.
“Vincent.”
Vale’s voice.
“Continue forward.”
Vincent followed the corridor.
“Remove your weapon.”
Vincent placed the pistol upon the floor.
“Kick it away.”
He did.
“Good.”
Another door opened electronically.
Vincent entered what had once been an operating theater.
Adrian Vale waited inside.
Mateo rested inside a medical bassinet beside him.
Vincent stopped.
His son was alive.
His chest moved.
No visible injuries.
The relief was so overwhelming Vincent almost lost balance.
Vale noticed.
“Remarkable.”
Vincent looked toward him.
“What?”
“How quickly power reorganizes itself.”
Vale gestured toward Mateo.
“Three kilograms of vulnerable flesh, and suddenly the most dangerous man in Chicago can barely breathe.”
“Give him to me.”
“Letter.”
Vincent removed it.
Vale smiled.
“Isabella always was intelligent.”
“You knew her.”
“Very well.”
“Not the way you imply.”
“No.”
Vale seemed amused.
“She despised me by the end.”
Vincent’s eyes darkened.
“Then why do you want the letter?”
“Because it contains information that belongs to me.”
“It belongs to her.”
“Dead people own nothing.”
Vincent took one step forward.
Vale lifted a syringe.
The needle hovered above Mateo’s intravenous line.
Vincent stopped instantly.
“There.”
Vale smiled.
“That is power.”
“What is inside the syringe?”
“Nothing fatal.”
“You expect me to trust you?”
“No.”
Vale’s gaze remained fixed upon Vincent.
“I expect you to obey.”
He demanded the letter.
Vincent placed it upon a surgical tray and pushed it forward.
Vale picked it up.
Read the final page.
Then tore it in half.
Vincent’s expression changed.
“Why?”
“Because Isabella believed she could defeat an idea with sentiment.”
“What idea?”
“That family belongs to the people who love each other.”
Vale looked toward Mateo.
“It does not.”
“It belongs to biology.”
“To inheritance.”
“To design.”
Vincent understood.
Vale did not see children.
He saw genetic assets.
Bloodlines as currency.
“You are insane.”
“History is simply selective breeding conducted by accident.”
Vale spread his hands.
“Kings married for blood.”
“Families merged fortunes through children.”
“I merely removed randomness.”
“You murdered mothers.”
“Necessary containment.”
Vincent’s face became empty.
“Those words will be the reason you die.”
Vale laughed.
“You are still exactly what Isabella feared.”
“No.”
A woman’s voice came from the doorway.
Vale turned.
Isabelle stood there.
Vincent’s face drained of color.
“What are you doing?”
She ignored him.
Vale stared toward her.
“You.”
“Me.”
“How did you enter?”
“I walked.”
That was not entirely true.
Dominic had brought her through a service corridor after disabling 2 cameras.
Vale looked fascinated.
“You survived.”
“Yes.”
“You should not have.”
“I gathered that.”
His eyes moved toward Mateo.
“You became attached.”
Isabelle’s expression hardened.
“He is my son.”
Vale smiled condescendingly.
“No.”
Vincent moved slightly.
Vale raised the syringe.
“Do not.”
Isabelle continued.
“You think because you understand cells, you understand motherhood?”
“You were a gestational carrier.”
“I was the person who kept him alive for 7 months.”
“Biologically irrelevant.”
“Tell him that.”
Mateo began crying.
The sound cut through the room.
Isabelle’s body reacted instantly.
So did Vincent’s.
Vale watched.
That was the mistake.
For one fraction of a second, his attention moved from Vincent toward Isabelle.
Vincent attacked.
He crossed the distance before Vale could lower the syringe.
His hand closed around Vale’s wrist.
The syringe fell.
Vale struck Vincent with a scalpel.
The blade cut his side.
Vincent did not stop.
He drove Vale into the operating table.
The older man screamed.
Isabelle rushed toward Mateo.
She lifted him.
“My baby.”
Mateo’s cries became louder.
Vale reached for a hidden pistol.
A gunshot exploded.
Vale collapsed.
Vincent turned.
Dominic stood inside the doorway.
Smoke moved from his weapon.
“I became impatient.”
Vale had been struck in the shoulder.
Alive.
Vincent walked toward him.
Blood soaked Vincent’s shirt near the scalpel wound.
Vale smiled despite his pain.
“Do it.”
Vincent looked down.
“Kill me.”
Vale wanted it.
Perhaps he expected Vincent to prove every accusation correct.
Vincent raised Dominic’s dropped pistol.
Isabelle watched.
“Vincent.”
His finger tightened.
Vale smiled wider.
“You cannot change.”
Vincent saw Isabella dying inside his arms.
Lorenzo falling.
Every grave.
Every man he had killed because killing was easier than changing.
Then he looked toward Mateo.
His son was safe against Isabelle’s chest.
Vincent lowered the gun.
Vale’s smile vanished.
“No.”
Vincent stepped backward.
“You do not get to become another ghost inside my house.”
Federal agents entered.
Vale was handcuffed.
He shouted as they lifted him.
“You think prison changes anything?”
Vincent did not respond.
“You think Orpheus ends with me?”
That made Vincent turn.
Vale laughed.
“There are people above me.”
Dominic exchanged a look with him.
“Names,” Vincent said.
Vale said nothing.
Agents dragged him toward the exit.
Then he looked toward Isabelle.
“Ask Evelyn about Geneva.”
The doors closed.
Silence remained.
Vincent immediately crossed toward Isabelle.
“Mateo.”
“He is okay.”
He checked every inch of his son.
Then Isabelle looked toward the blood on Vincent’s shirt.
“You are not.”
“Superficial.”
“You were stabbed.”
“I have experienced worse.”
“That is not comforting.”
Dominic called for medics.
Vincent ignored him.
He placed one arm around Isabelle and Mateo.
For several moments, none of them spoke.
Then Isabelle hit him.
Not hard.
Her palm struck his chest.
Vincent stared.
“You almost got yourself killed.”
“You entered the building after promising—”
“I changed my mind.”
“That is not how agreements work.”
“You are alive.”
“So are you.”
“Good.”
They stared at each other.
The fear.
Adrenaline.
Weeks of tension.
Everything collided.
Vincent kissed her.
It was not planned.
It was not cautious.
His hand moved toward the back of her head, and Isabelle froze for half a second before kissing him back.
Dominic quietly turned around.
The kiss ended almost as quickly as it began.
Vincent stepped backward.
“I should not have done that.”
Isabelle stared toward him.
“Do not apologize.”
His eyes searched hers.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
Then she reached forward and kissed him again.
This time more slowly.
When they separated, Mateo made a protesting sound between them.
Isabelle laughed.
Vincent touched his forehead toward hers.
“Apparently he objects.”
“He has terrible timing.”
“He inherited it from me.”
Outside, Adrian Vale was placed inside a federal vehicle.
Alive.
Defeated.
But not finished.
And when Evelyn heard the words he had spoken before leaving—
Ask Evelyn about Geneva—
all color disappeared from her face.
Because Adrian Vale had finally revealed the secret she had spent 5 years trying to forget.
May you like
Project Orpheus did not belong to him.
He had only been its American director.
