Chapter 5 - Isabella's Hidden Notebook
Dr. Adrian Keller was gone.
Not escaped.
Gone from the third-floor medical suite.
His overnight bag remained.
His coat remained.
His phone sat charging beside a chair.
But the man himself had disappeared.
Lorenzo's security cameras should have made that impossible.
They didn't.
At 6:22 a.m., camera feeds covering the west staircase went black for eleven minutes.
When they returned, Keller was missing.
Lorenzo stood inside the security control room as Marco replayed the outage.
“Manual interruption?” Lorenzo asked.
“Yes.”
“From here?”
“Could be.”
“Who has access?”
Marco hesitated.
“Six people.”
“Names.”
Marco handed him a list.
Lorenzo read it.
Two longtime guards.
The security technician.
The estate manager.
Marco himself.
And Lorenzo.
No Keller.
No nurse.
No doctor.
Lorenzo looked at Marco.
“Someone is helping him.”
“Yes.”
“Inside the house.”
“Yes.”
Lorenzo stared at the wall of screens.
For decades, loyalty had been his currency.
Men stayed loyal because loyalty was rewarded.
Betrayal was punished.
Simple rules.
But Isabella's death had already proven those rules were not enough.
And now his son's life depended on finding someone who had learned to smile while lying to him.
Upstairs, Lucas improved slightly.
Dr. Chen had removed two unnecessary medications and carefully treated the digoxin toxicity.
His heart rhythm stabilized.
The nausea eased.
His hands became warmer.
By noon he asked for toast.
Lorenzo nearly cried when he heard.
Something so ordinary.
Toast.
A father should never feel grateful because his child wanted breakfast.
But Lorenzo did.
Emma sat beside Lucas.
She had become strangely protective of him.
When nurses entered, she watched every syringe.
When doctors spoke, she listened.
Lucas seemed amused.
“You're like Dad.”
Emma frowned.
“How?”
“You don't trust anybody.”
Emma thought about that.
“Maybe that's smart.”
Lucas smiled.
For the first time in weeks, Lorenzo heard his son laugh.
The sound gave him more strength than sleep could.
Downstairs, Claire helped sort Isabella's files.
They found records connecting Marrow Biotech to six deaths.
Three adults.
Two teenagers.
One child.
All had been diagnosed with rare disorders.
All had received experimental compounds.
All records had been rewritten afterward.
Rachel Keller had worked inside the pharmacy that distributed those compounds.
She discovered mismatched batch numbers.
Isabella discovered Lucas's blood samples had been switched.
Samuel Reeves had discovered the research protocol itself.
Three people.
Three pieces of the same puzzle.
Rachel died.
Isabella died.
Reeves vanished into protection.
And Keller remained at the center.
But one question bothered Lorenzo.
Why keep poisoning Lucas now?
If the original conspiracy had ended three years ago, why continue?
Unless it had not ended.
Marco entered carrying a folder.
“We found something about Marrow.”
“You said he disappeared.”
“He did.”
“Dead?”
“Maybe not.”
Marco opened the folder.
Vincent Marrow owned shell companies.
One of them still paid annual property taxes on a private rehabilitation clinic in Vermont.
Payments continued.
Utilities continued.
Security contracts continued.
Someone maintained the property.
“Send people.”
“I already did.”
Lorenzo looked up.
Marco had always anticipated his orders.
That was why he trusted him.
Then another thought surfaced.
“Where were you when the west cameras went down?”
Marco's expression did not change.
“In the garage.”
“Why?”
“Checking the vehicle logs.”
“Anyone with you?”
“No.”
For the first time in twenty years, Lorenzo looked at his closest friend and wondered if he was lying.
Marco saw it.
“You think it's me.”
“I think someone cut those cameras.”
“And I'm on the access list.”
“Yes.”
Marco slowly removed the security card from his pocket.
He placed it on the desk.
“If you don't trust me, take it.”
Lorenzo stared at the card.
Trust was easier when death was theoretical.
Now Lucas's life made every possibility unbearable.
Lorenzo pushed the card back.
“Find Keller.”
Marco took it.
“I will.”
That afternoon Dr. Chen called Lorenzo upstairs.
Lucas sat against several pillows.
Color had returned faintly to his cheeks.
Chen held a tablet.
“I have preliminary results from tests we repeated.”
“And?”
“Lucas does not have the autoimmune condition he was diagnosed with.”
Lorenzo already knew.
But hearing a doctor say it made the deception real.
“What does he have?”
Chen sat.
“That is more complicated.”
Lucas looked toward his father.
Lorenzo gestured for her to continue.
“His heart shows mild congenital electrical instability. Treatable. His stomach problems are likely medication-related. His muscle weakness appears partly caused by prolonged steroid use.”
Lorenzo stared.
“Are you telling me most of this was caused by treatment?”
“A significant amount.”
“How much?”
“I can't quantify yet.”
Lucas looked between them.
“Does that mean I'm not dying?”
Nobody spoke.
Then Chen smiled gently.
“I think it means we have very good reasons to stop talking like you are.”
Lucas stared.
“I'm going to get better?”
“I believe you can.”
Lucas burst into tears.
Not dramatic tears.
Quiet ones.
He covered his face.
Lorenzo sat beside him and pulled him into his arms.
Lucas was so light.
Too light.
But alive.
Hopeful.
Emma hugged him from the other side.
For a moment, Lorenzo forgot everything else.
Isabella.
Keller.
Marrow.
The betrayal.
All of it.
His son might live.
That should have been enough.
But later, when Lucas slept, Lorenzo returned to Isabella's notebook.
He examined every page.
Near the final section, one page had been cut out.
Not torn.
Cut cleanly with scissors.
The stub remained in the binding.
Lorenzo held it toward the light.
Indented writing from the missing page was faintly visible.
He used a pencil to shade the paper.
Slowly words emerged.
If Lorenzo finds this, tell him the person he trusts most—
The rest was unreadable.
Lorenzo's hand stopped.
The person he trusts most.
Marco?
Someone else?
Then Claire entered.
“There's something you need to see.”
She carried Emma's stuffed rabbit.
“What?”
“Emma's rabbit belonged to Rachel.”
Claire opened a small seam beneath its collar.
Inside was a memory card.
Lorenzo stared.
“Did Emma know?”
“No.”
They inserted it into the laptop.
One video file.
Dated the night before Rachel died.
Rachel Keller appeared on screen.
Thin.
Pale.
Frightened.
She looked directly into the camera.
“If anything happens to me, my father will be blamed.”
Lorenzo leaned closer.
“But Adrian Keller isn't the person running this.”
Rachel swallowed.
“The man responsible is someone Lorenzo Duca would never suspect.”
The video distorted.
Rachel continued.
“He has access to the house.”
Lorenzo's pulse rose.
“To the cars.”
A chill passed through him.
“To the cameras.”
Lorenzo slowly turned toward the security-room hallway.
Rachel's final sentence played.
“And Lorenzo calls him brother.”
The screen went black.
There was only one man Lorenzo had called that his entire adult life.
May you like
Marco.
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