Chapter 4 - A DANGEROUS ALLIANCEBack at the Monteverde Tower, Alejandro slammed his fist into the wall, cracking the plaster.
"Marcus, trace that beacon! I don't care if her phone is off, find the secondary backup chip embedded in her medical intake file!"
"Sir, I'm trying, but someone inside our own cybersecurity grid is firewalling my access!" Marcus typed furiously, his fingers flying across the keys. "Wait... the firewall code... it’s Julian’s private signature. He’s routing through the old family estate servers!"
Alejandro’s blood ran cold. Julian. His uncle had been missing from corporate affairs for over a decade, quietly living off a massive trust fund. Why would Julian care about Elena?
Then, the pieces clicked together with terrifying clarity. The patent theft. The old lawsuit. The fire that killed Elena’s grandparents. Julian hadn't just been an observer; he had been the architect of the ruin. And if Julian knew about Gabriel, he viewed the baby not as a family member, but as a living, breathing legal liability that could strip the Monteverdes of every penny they owned.
"Get the chopper ready," Alejandro commanded, grabbing his leather jacket and a heavy-duty Sig Sauer pistol from his private armory cabinet. "If Julian lays a single finger on them, I will burn the family name to ash."
As Alejandro rushed down the private elevator, his phone buzzed. It was an unknown number. He swiped to answer, his voice a lethal hiss. "If this is Isabella, I swear to God—"
"It's not Isabella, Alejandro."
The voice on the other end made Alejandro stop dead in his tracks.
"Isabella is currently packing her bags for Zurich, trying to escape the asset freeze," the voice continued, smooth and entirely unbothered. It was a woman’s voice—sharp, cultured, and carrying an unmistakable undertone of mockery. "If you want to save your nurse and your son, you might want to listen to someone who actually knows what your uncle is planning."
"Who is this?"
"Someone who hates Julian more than you do. Meet me at the abandoned rail yard on 4th Street in twenty minutes. Come alone, or the next sound you hear will be a flatline—and I don't mean a monitor."
The line went dead.
Alejandro stared at the screen. It was a trap. Every instinct told him to ignore it, to fly straight to Elena’s apartment. But the mention of Julian changed the calculus. If Julian had already reached her, brute force alone would get them both killed.
Twenty minutes later, the black Monteverde helicopter touched down amidst the rusted tracks of the abandoned rail yard. The rain lashed against the metal hull. Stepping out into the downpour, Alejandro drew his weapon, scanning the shadows.
A figure stepped out from beneath a rusted boxcar. As she walked into the light of a flickering security lamp, Alejandro’s eyes narrowed.
It was Dr. Vance’s former chief assistant, a woman named Clara who had vanished from St. Jude’s hospital six months ago after unearthing financial discrepancies in the foundation accounts.
"You've grown reckless, Alejandro," Clara said, pulling her trench coat tight against the wind. "Thinking you could keep a girl like Elena hidden in plain sight while your uncle’s hounds were sniffing around."
"Cut the crap, Clara," Alejandro snarled, leveling his gaze at her. "Where is Julian?"
"Right now? He’s breaking into Elena’s apartment," Clara said calmly. "He doesn't want the child dead, Alejandro. He wants the child legally bound to him through an emergency adoption clause tied to the old Ruiz trust. Once he controls the baby, he controls the patents. And once he controls the patents, he can sue your corporate board into bankruptcy, reclaiming the entire Monteverde fortune for himself."
"Not if I get there first."
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"You won't make it in time by air," Clara said, tossing a set of keys toward him. They clinked against the wet gravel at his feet. "Julian has local police frequencies jammed within a two-mile radius of her building. But my truck has a military-grade signal jammer. Get in. I’ll drive. We go through the underground maintenance tunnels."
Alejandro looked at the keys, then at Clara. He didn't trust her—not completely. But he had no choice.
