Chapter 9: The Boy They Chose
I called Isabella before I even reached the elevator.
She answered on the first ring.
"Dominic?""
"Listen to me carefully. Are the boys with you?""
"Yes. Why?""
"Keep them inside. Lock every door. Don't let anyone in unless you recognize them.""
Silence.
Then her voice changed.
"What happened?""
"Someone is trying to take Caleb.""
A sharp gasp.
"What?""
"Your grandfather has arranged a medical transfer.""
"No.""
"Isabella, listen—"
"No! Who told you this?""
"I have documents. I have a recording. I know about the embryo program.""
She was crying now.
"Dominic, get here.""
"I'm coming.""
I ended the call.
"Marco!""
He was already beside the car.
"Where to?""
"East Boston. Now.""
When we arrived, Isabella was standing behind the locked apartment door.
She opened it only after checking through the peephole.
The boys were in the living room.
Noah was watching television.
Ethan was drawing.
Lucas was building a tower out of blocks.
Caleb was sitting on the rug, holding Mr. Chomp.
All four looked up when I entered.
"You're back!"" Noah shouted.
I forced a smile.
"Hey, buddy.""
Isabella pulled me into the kitchen.
"Tell me everything.""
I placed the documents on the counter.
She read the note about Caleb.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
"Why him?""
"I don't know yet.""
"He's six years old, Dominic.""
"I know.""
"He's my baby.""
"I know.""
She began pacing.
"Your grandfather has lost his mind.""
I showed her the video of Grace.
She watched it without speaking.
When the recording ended, she sat down.
"Anthony knew.""
I nodded.
"He was trying to stop it.""
She covered her face.
"All those years, I thought I had been abandoned by everyone.""
I crouched beside her.
"You weren't.""
She looked at me.
"I was alone.""
I didn't try to correct her.
Because she was right.
I had been absent.
My father had been absent.
And the family that should have protected her had made her feel hunted.
I took her hand.
"Not anymore.""
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then she whispered:
"Find our son.""
Michael arrived twenty minutes later.
He brought an emergency legal team and two private security officers.
We gathered around the kitchen table.
Michael examined the documents.
"The transfer authorization appears to have been issued through a private medical foundation.""
"Can they legally take him?"" I asked.
"Not without Isabella's consent or a valid court order.""
"Do they have one?""
"Not yet.""
Isabella looked at him.
"Could they get one?""
Michael hesitated.
"Possibly, if they submit evidence suggesting a medical emergency or parental incapacity.""
She went pale.
"What kind of evidence?""
Michael opened another folder.
"There's a preliminary report claiming Caleb requires specialized neurological observation.""
I stared at him.
"Is that true?""
"I haven't seen any verified diagnosis.""
Isabella stood.
"He's healthy.""
"Then we need his actual medical records," Michael replied.
"And we need an independent specialist.""
"Who?""
"I'll arrange someone who has no connection to the Moretti or Barrett families.""
I looked toward the living room.
Caleb was laughing at something Lucas had said.
He didn't look sick.
He didn't look like a medical subject.
He looked like a six-year-old boy who wanted another chocolate muffin.
"Do whatever you need to do," I told Michael.
He nodded.
Then his phone rang.
He answered, listened, and slowly turned toward me.
"What?""
"The court has received an emergency petition.""
"From whom?""
"Richard Barrett.""
I felt my jaw tighten.
"What does he want?""
Michael looked at the document.
"Temporary medical guardianship of Caleb.""
Isabella made a sound I had never heard from her before.
"No.""
Michael raised a hand.
"The hearing is scheduled for tomorrow morning.""
"On what grounds?"" I demanded.
Michael turned the document around.
The petition claimed that Isabella had concealed important medical information and had refused necessary treatment.
It also alleged that I had recently discovered a hereditary condition in the child and had been prevented from arranging medical care.
I stared at the signature.
Richard Barrett.
"He knows we're investigating.""
Michael nodded.
"And he's trying to move before we can establish what happened.""
Isabella looked toward the living room.
"Can they take Caleb tomorrow?""
Michael didn't answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
I stood.
"Then we stop them.""
At 6:30 p.m., I went to see Sloane.
She was waiting outside her father's office at the Barrett Foundation.
When she saw me, she looked terrified.
"Did you find the safe?""
"Yes.""
"Did you watch the video?""
"Yes.""
She looked down.
"Then you know.""
"Your father is trying to take my son.""
Her face crumpled.
"I didn't know he would do that.""
"Does he know about the hearing?""
She nodded.
"He told me this morning.""
"Why didn't you warn me?""
"I was trying to get proof.""
I stared at her.
"What proof?""
She opened her handbag and removed a small voice recorder.
"My father called me yesterday. I recorded the conversation.""
She pressed play.
Richard's voice filled the corridor.
"Caleb is the priority. The other three can remain with the mother for now.""
Sloane's voice followed.
"Why are you talking about a six-year-old boy like he's property?""
Richard answered calmly.
"Because he is the only one who matters to the project.""
"He's Dominic's son.""
"He's a genetic asset.""
I felt my hands curl into fists.
The recording continued.
Sloane asked:
"What happens to him?""
Richard replied:
"He will receive the treatment he needs. Afterward, the foundation will assume responsibility for his development.""
"You're talking about taking him away!""
"Don't be childish.""
Then Richard said something that made my stomach turn.
"Your grandfather has already approved the arrangement. Once the boy is transferred, the rest of the family will have no choice but to cooperate.""
The recording ended.
I stared at Sloane.
"Why did he choose Caleb?""
She hesitated.
Then she opened another document.
It was a genetic screening report.
The results were technical, but one section had been highlighted.
A rare hereditary marker.
The report identified Caleb as carrying a variation associated with a specific inherited neurological trait.
There was no confirmed disease.
No diagnosis.
Just a genetic marker.
"Your father believes Caleb has something he can use," I said.
Sloane nodded.
"Apparently, the foundation has been trying to reproduce the marker in other research subjects.""
I felt sick.
"Research subjects?""
She looked away.
"Other children.""
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then I asked the question I had been avoiding.
"How many?""
She closed her eyes.
"I don't know.""
I took the recording.
"Thank you.""
She caught my arm.
"Dominic.""
I looked at her.
"My father has people watching Isabella's apartment.""
I froze.
"What?""
"He told me they were only there to make sure she didn't leave town.""
I stared at her.
"How many?""
"Two men. One drives a black SUV. The other usually waits near the building.""
I turned toward the elevator.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?""
"Because I thought he was bluffing.""
I looked at her.
"Bluffing about what?""
Her voice cracked.
"He said if Caleb disappeared for a few hours, everyone would assume Isabella had taken him somewhere.""
My stomach dropped.
I ran.
When I reached Isabella's building, Marco was already outside.
He was standing beside his car, speaking into his phone.
His expression told me everything.
"What happened?""
"Someone entered the building.""
I ran toward the entrance.
Marco followed.
We took the stairs two at a time.
The apartment door was open.
Isabella stood in the hallway holding Noah and Ethan close to her.
Lucas was crying.
Caleb was missing.
"Where is he?"" I shouted.
Isabella turned toward me.
"They said they were from the hospital.""
My blood ran cold.
"Who?""
"Two men. They had identification badges. They said Caleb needed immediate testing.""
"Did you let them in?""
"No! I told them to leave.""
She began shaking.
"Then one of them said there was a court order. He showed me a document.""
"Where did they take him?""
"I tried to stop them.""
Her voice broke.
"I tried, Dominic.""
I grabbed her shoulders.
"Where is Caleb?""
She pointed toward the stairs.
"They took him downstairs.""
I turned.
Marco was already running.
We reached the street.
A black SUV was pulling away from the curb.
Marco shouted.
The driver accelerated.
I jumped into my car.
"Follow them!""
Marco got behind the wheel.
The SUV turned onto the main road.
Traffic was heavy.
We followed it through two intersections, then onto a quieter street.
I called Michael.
"Caleb has been taken.""
"What?""
"Someone used a fake court order. I need the police.""
"I'm calling them now.""
The SUV turned into an underground parking garage.
Marco stopped outside.
I jumped out.
We ran down the ramp.
The vehicle was parked near the elevator.
Its rear doors were open.
A man's jacket lay on the ground.
But Caleb was gone.
I searched the surrounding spaces.
Nothing.
Then I saw a small blue sneaker near the elevator.
I picked it up.
Caleb's name was written inside.
My legs almost gave out.
Marco found a security guard.
"Which way did they go?""
The guard pointed toward the service exit.
"Two men left with a child about five minutes ago.""
"Which vehicle?""
"A white van.""
I looked at Marco.
"They switched cars.""
He nodded.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
"Where is my son?""
A man's voice responded.
"Your son is safe, Mr. Moretti.""
"Put him on the phone.""
"That won't be possible.""
"Who are you?""
"Someone working for people who understand what Caleb represents.""
I gripped the phone.
"He's a child.""
"He's more valuable than you realize.""
"Listen to me. If you touch him—"
The man interrupted.
"Your grandfather would like to speak with you.""
A second voice came onto the line.
Vittorio.
"Dominic.""
I closed my eyes.
"Where is Caleb?""
"Somewhere he can receive the care he needs.""
"Bring him back.""
"Come to the estate.""
"I want my son.""
"Then perhaps we can finally discuss what your father should have told you years ago.""
I felt my blood boil.
"Don't you dare use him as leverage.""
Vittorio sighed.
"You're making this unnecessarily difficult.""
Then he added:
"Bring Isabella. Bring the three other boys. And come alone.""
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Marco approached.
"Sir?""
I looked at him.
"Call every police contact you have. Get the location of that white van. Shut down every road leading to the harbor.""
"Understood.""
I looked at the tiny blue sneaker in my hand.
Then I called Isabella.
She answered through tears.
"Did you find him?""
I closed my eyes.
"Not yet.""
She made a broken sound.
"Dominic, please bring my baby home.""
I looked toward the city.
"I will.""
And for the first time in my life, I understood exactly what my father must have felt when he stood against Vittorio Moretti.
Because I was about to do the same thing.
Even if it cost me everything.
At 8:12 p.m., Michael called.
"We found the van.""
"Where?""
"At a private medical facility outside the city.""
"Is Caleb there?""
"Possibly. But there's something you need to see first.""
He sent me a photograph.
It showed a medical room.
A small hospital bed.
A window covered with blinds.
And a little boy sitting on the edge of the mattress.
Caleb.
He was holding Mr. Chomp.
I felt my throat tighten.
Then I noticed the man standing behind him.
My grandfather.
Vittorio was smiling.
But Caleb wasn't looking at him.
He was looking directly at the camera.
His little face was wet with tears.
And beneath the photograph was a message.
*Your father is waiting for you.*
I stared at the words.
Then another message arrived.
*Anthony Moretti has been brought to the facility.*
My father was alive.
My son had been taken.
And my grandfather had finally gathered every person he had spent seven years keeping apart.
May you like
Tomorrow, I would face them all.
But I had no idea which one of them was going to betray me first.
