Chapter 9 - THE ULTIMATE BETRAYALThe flashing red light on Viktor’s detonator pulsed like a dying heartbeat in the smoke-filled archive room.
"Drop it, Viktor," Damian repeated, his voice dangerously calm, his finger resting on the trigger of his Glock with millimeter precision. "You trigger that charge, and the gas lines beneath the hospital go up. You won't make it out of the basement either."
Viktor laughed hysterically, coughing as the thick black smoke crept closer to their lungs. "You think I care about surviving, Damian? You ruined everything I built over thirty years for a brat and a nobody waitress! The Caruso empire belongs to blood, not sentimentality!"
He slammed his thumb down onto the detonator button.
Click.
Nothing happened.
Viktor’s manic smile faltered. He pressed it again. Click. Click.
From the doorway, Marco stepped out of the shadows, tossing a heavy, smoking electronic jamming device onto the floor near Viktor’s boots.
"Military-grade signal jammer, Viktor," Marco said flatly, adjusting his tie. "You really thought the boss didn't anticipate you playing with explosives in a decommissioned hospital?"
Viktor’s face drained of color. He lunged forward, grabbing a heavy metal pipe off a nearby desk and swinging it wildly toward Damian’s head.
Damian ducked beneath the arc with practiced ease, swept Viktor’s legs out from under him with a brutal kick, and sent the older man crashing hard onto the concrete floor. The briefcase flew from Viktor's grip, scattering charred files across the room.
Before Viktor could recover, Damian pinned him to the floor with his boot planted squarely on his chest, pressing the barrel of his gun against Viktor’s forehead.
"It's over, Uncle," Damian growled.
Elena stepped forward, her eyes locked on the scattered files around her feet. One particular folder caught her eye—a singed, half-burned document bearing the official letterhead of St. Agnes Hospital, dated November 14, two years ago.
She knelt down through the ash and picked it up.
Her hands shook as she read the typed words:Patient: Elena Moretti. Infant: Female, healthy, 7 lbs 4 oz. Transferred under emergency protocol to private custody of Damian Caruso via administrative authorization of Nurse Moretti.
Elena looked up, her breath hitching in her throat as she stared at the signature at the bottom of the page.
It wasn't her mother’s signature.
It was signed by Victoria Moretti—Elena’s aunt, her mother’s estranged sister, who had worked as the chief legal registrar for the hospital board before mysteriously disappearing to Europe a week after the birth.
"My mother... she didn't sell my baby for money," Elena whispered, the devastating truth crashing down on her like a tidal wave. "She was blackmailed. Aunt Victoria threatened to expose our family, or worse, kill me if my mother didn't help swap the babies and sign the false death certificate."
Damian looked down at Elena, his expression softening just a fraction as he realized the full scope of the nightmare. He pressed his boot harder onto Viktor's chest, forcing a groan of pain from the older man.
"Where is she, Viktor?" Damian demanded. "Where is Victoria Moretti?"
Viktor coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but a wicked grin broke across his face. "You... you think finding her matters? She's already on a private jet crossing the Atlantic. And she didn't just steal one baby two years ago, Damian..."
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Viktor wheezed out a laugh.
"She was just finishing what she started thirty-seven years ago."
