Chapter 7 - THE GHOST FROM THE PASTThe explosion on the north balcony blew the heavy glass doors inward, showering the hallway with razor-sharp shards. Smoke billowed into the dimly lit corridor, smelling of sulfur and high-explosive plastic.
Damian moved through the smoke like a phantom, hugging the wall with his weapon raised, his eyes scanning the debris.
A shadow detached itself from the balcony railing—tall, lean, dressed in tactical black with a skull balaclava obscuring its face. The intruder didn't shoot; instead, he hurled a small metallic canister directly toward Damian’s feet.
Flashbang!
The blinding white light and deafening roar echoed down the hallway, temporarily robbing Damian of his sight and hearing. He staggered back against the wall, shaking his head to clear the piercing whine in his ears.
When his vision finally cleared, the intruder was gone—but a single item had been left behind on the marble floor, pinned to the baseboard by a heavy hunting knife.
A Polaroid photograph.
Damian walked over slowly, his gun still raised, and pulled the knife out of the wood. He flipped the photograph over.
It was a picture of Elena holding newborn Sofia in the delivery room of St. Agnes Hospital two years ago. But someone had drawn a thick red X across Elena’s face, and scrawled on the back in black marker were three chilling words:
SHE WAS NEVER YOURS.
Damian’s jaw clenched so hard a vein throbbed violently at his temple. He didn't chase the intruder into the night air; he knew the perimeter defenses would already be locked down, and whoever had breached the balcony had a chopper waiting on the river currents.
He walked back into the suite, his boots crunching on the glass.
Elena was standing at the door of the nursery, holding a terrified Sofia in her arms. Her face was pale as paper.
"What happened?" she whispered, her voice shaking. "I heard an explosion."
Damian didn't answer immediately. He walked over, handing her the Polaroid photograph.
Elena looked down at it, and a choked gasp escaped her lips. Her fingers trembled so violently she almost dropped the picture. "How... how did they get this? This was taken in the delivery room. My mother was the only one who had the physical polaroids before they were digitized!"
"Your mother wasn't working alone, Elena," Damian said grimly, taking the photo back and burning it with a lighter he pulled from his pocket, watching the image curl into black ash on a metal tray. "There was a second person in that delivery room. Someone who helped her fake the death certificate, swap the baby files, and cover up the trail."
"Who?" Elena demanded, stepping closer. "Who else could be involved?"
Before Damian could answer, his secure comms unit buzzed in his ear. Marco’s frantic voice cut through the static.
"Boss! We checked the vault security feeds. Viktor didn't break out... someone let him out. And he didn't go down to the docks. He just drove out of the compound in an armored transport, heading straight for St. Agnes Hospital."
Damian’s eyes widened with sudden, terrifying comprehension.
"He's not running away," Damian realized aloud, grabbing his leather jacket from the rack. "He's going to destroy the master physical archives before the federal audit hits."
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"And my medical records," Elena added, horror dawning in her eyes. "The real birth registry. The proof that Sofia is mine!"
Damian grabbed his keys, looking at Elena with a look that brooked no argument. "Grab your coat. We're going to the hospital."
