Chapter 5 - THE NURSE WHO SAW THE IMPOSSIBLE
The nurse's name was Caroline Mercer.
She was sixty-two and lived in a modest apartment outside Milwaukee.
When I arrived, she opened the door with a chain still attached.
She stared at me.
“You look like your father.”
I said nothing.
She removed the chain.
“Come in.”
Her apartment smelled of coffee and old books.
She placed a folder on the table.
“I kept copies,” she said.
“Of what?”
“Sofia's records.”
My heart hammered.
Caroline opened the folder.
Medical reports.
Transfer forms.
Ultrasound images.
And a photograph of Sofia lying in a hospital bed.
Alive.
Her eyes were closed.
A bandage covered her forehead.
But it was her.
My wife.
I touched the photograph.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
“She survived the crash,” Caroline said.
I nodded slowly.
“She had a concussion, several fractures, and complications related to the pregnancy.”
“Was she conscious?”
“Eventually.”
“Did she ask for me?”
Caroline looked away.
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“What did she say?”
“She asked whether you knew she was alive.”
I closed my eyes.
Caroline continued.
“Then a man arrived.”
“Who?”
“Lorenzo Moretti.”
I felt cold.
“He told her you had arranged the accident.”
My hands curled into fists.
Caroline looked at me.
“She didn't believe him at first.”
“What changed?”
“He showed her documents.”
“What documents?”
“Photographs. Messages. Financial records. I don't know whether they were genuine.”
I stared.
“He convinced her I wanted her dead.”
Caroline nodded.
“And the babies.”
I looked down at the medical records.
“What happened next?”
“She was transferred to a private clinic under a different name.”
“Where?”
Caroline hesitated.
“I don't know the final location.”
“Who arranged it?”
“Dr. Evelyn Cross.”
The same woman who had arrived at my gates.
Caroline continued.
“Months later, I learned Sofia had delivered four boys.”
My eyes filled.
“Were they healthy?”
“Yes. Premature, but they survived.”
I covered my face.
Caroline waited.
When I finally looked up, she handed me another photograph.
Sofia sat in a hospital bed.
Four tiny babies rested beside her.
She was smiling.
Tired.
Pale.
Beautiful.
I began crying.
I had not cried in front of another person since Sofia's funeral.
But now I couldn't stop.
My wife had lived.
My children had been born.
And someone had stolen five years from us.
Caroline reached across the table.
“There is something else.”
I looked up.
“Sofia tried to contact you.”
My heart stopped.
“When?”
“Three weeks after the delivery.”
I stared.
“She wrote a letter.”
“Where is it?”
Caroline opened the folder.
Inside was a sealed envelope.
My name was written across the front.
In Sofia's handwriting.
ALEJANDRO — IF YOU STILL LOVE ME, FIND THE TRUTH.
I held the letter.
My hands shook.
And for the first time in five years, I heard my wife's voice in my head.
May you like
Don't let them turn you into your father.
I opened the envelope.
