CHAPTER 9 — THE SECRET OF ISABELLA'S BIRTH
CHAPTER 9 — THE SECRET OF ISABELLA'S BIRTH
I drove home like a man who had forgotten how to breathe.
Every traffic light felt like an insult.
Every second felt stolen.
The message remained open on my phone.
COME HOME. ALONE.
OR SHE DIES.
I had received threats before.
Business rivals had threatened me.
Former partners had tried to intimidate me.
Men had stood across negotiation tables and promised to destroy everything I had built.
None of that mattered now.
Because this time, the threat had a face.
My daughter's.
When I reached the villa, the gates were open.
That was the first thing I noticed.
The second was the silence.
No guards.
No security vehicles.
No lights in the entrance hall.
I stopped the car before reaching the house.
Something was wrong.
I called Daniel.
"Don't come inside," I said.
"Where are you?"
"At the villa."
"Wait for me."
"I can't."
"Listen to me. If someone took Isabella, you walking into that house alone is exactly what they want."
"I know."
"Then wait."
I looked through the windshield.
The front door was open.
"I can't."
I ended the call.
Then I stepped out.
"Isabella?"
My voice echoed through the hall.
Nothing.
I entered.
The house looked untouched.
No broken furniture.
No overturned chairs.
No signs of struggle.
That frightened me more than destruction would have.
Someone had taken my daughter quietly.
I ran upstairs.
Her bedroom door was open.
The bed was made.
Her stuffed rabbit was gone.
I found her pink hair ribbon on the floor.
I picked it up.
My hands began shaking.
Then I heard a sound.
A soft voice.
"Dad?"
I turned.
Isabella stood at the end of the hallway.
I froze.
"Isabella."
She smiled.
I crossed the hallway in seconds and dropped to my knees.
I pulled her into my arms.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded.
"Where were you?"
She pointed toward the library.
"Someone took me there."
My heart stopped.
"Who?"
"The man."
"Adrian?"
She shook her head.
"No."
"Then who?"
She whispered:
"The man who looks like you."
I looked at her face.
"Did he hurt you?"
"No."
"What did he do?"
"He showed me a picture."
"What picture?"
She reached into her pocket.
A folded photograph.
I opened it.
My father.
Elena.
A newborn child.
And a fourth person.
A woman I didn't recognize.
On the back:
THE FIRST MOTHER.
I looked at Isabella.
"What did he tell you?"
She answered calmly.
"He said you weren't my first father."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
I looked toward the doorway.
Beatriz stood there.
Her face was white.
I stood.
"What does that mean?"
She didn't answer.
"Beatriz."
She looked at Isabella.
Then at me.
"She finally knows."
"Knows what?"
Beatriz closed her eyes.
"Everything."
Daniel arrived ten minutes later.
I had already locked the villa.
No one came in.
No one left.
I sat at the dining table with Isabella beside me.
Beatriz sat opposite us.
Daniel stood near the window.
I placed the photograph on the table.
"Start talking."
Beatriz stared at it.
"The woman is Elena's mother."
I frowned.
"Her name?"
"Lucia Marquez."
"Where is she?"
"Dead."
"When?"
"Before Isabella was born."
I looked at the photograph again.
"Then why does this matter?"
Beatriz hesitated.
"Because Lucia wasn't Elena's biological mother."
Silence.
Daniel's expression changed.
"What?"
Beatriz nodded.
"Elena was adopted."
I stared.
"By whom?"
"Lucia."
"Then who were Elena's biological parents?"
Beatriz looked at me.
"Your father."
I stopped breathing.
Daniel stepped forward.
"That would make Elena—"
"His daughter."
I looked at Isabella.
Then at the photograph.
Then back at Beatriz.
"That means Elena was my half-sister."
"Yes."
The room became silent.
I suddenly understood why my father had hidden so much.
Why Gabriel had been obsessed with the child.
Why Adrian's existence had been buried.
The family tree wasn't simply complicated.
It had been deliberately erased.
But one question remained.
"Who was Isabella's father?"
Beatriz looked at me.
"You."
I frowned.
"Then why did you say I wasn't her first father?"
"Because biologically, you are."
"Then what did Adrian mean?"
Beatriz's voice dropped.
"He meant that you weren't the first man recorded as her father."
I looked at Daniel.
He understood immediately.
"Her birth certificate."
Beatriz nodded.
"The original record was changed."
"To what name?"
She whispered:
"Gabriel Bennett."
I stood.
"What?"
"Gabriel was listed as Isabella's father."
"Why?"
"Because Elena was afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"She knew Gabriel wanted the child."
"Why would he claim to be her father?"
"Because he wanted legal control."
Daniel interrupted.
"That wouldn't make him the biological father."
"No."
Beatriz looked at Isabella.
"But it would make him the legal father if nobody challenged the record."
I sat down again.
"Then how did my father change it?"
"He didn't."
"Who did?"
Beatriz looked at me.
"Elena."
Three years earlier, Elena had discovered that Gabriel intended to use Isabella as leverage against my father.
She had been desperate.
She had nowhere to go.
No money.
No legal protection.
And no one she trusted.
Except my father.
He offered her a deal.
He would hide Isabella.
In return, Elena would sign temporary guardianship papers.
But there was one problem.
Gabriel already had legal documents claiming Isabella.
So my father needed another identity for the child.
That was where I came in.
I had been the perfect candidate.
My name carried weight.
My company had assets.
My family had lawyers.
And, most importantly, I loved Elena.
Or at least I thought I did.
"Wait."
I looked at Beatriz.
"I loved Elena?"
She nodded.
"Before I married you."
I felt confused.
"I don't remember."
"You were never supposed to."
Daniel stepped forward.
"What are you saying?"
Beatriz looked at me.
"Your father ordered the memories removed."
My blood ran cold.
"What?"
"You knew Elena."
"You knew she was your half-sister."
"You knew about Isabella."
"But after the accident..."
"What accident?"
Beatriz looked down.
"The crash in London."
I remembered it.
A car accident.
Three years ago.
I had suffered a head injury.
My doctors had called the memory loss temporary.
But I had never recovered certain months.
I'd assumed it was trauma.
Now I wasn't sure.
"Someone altered my records."
Beatriz nodded.
"Your father did."
"Why?"
"To protect you."
I laughed bitterly.
"Everyone keeps using that word."
She looked at me.
"Because it's true."
"No."
I pushed the photograph away.
"Protecting someone doesn't mean erasing their life."
Beatriz said nothing.
I turned to Isabella.
"Sweetheart, did the man tell you anything else?"
She nodded.
"He said Mommy wanted you to know."
"Know what?"
"That you were born for a reason."
My chest tightened.
"What reason?"
Isabella looked at the photograph.
"To carry the key."
I looked at Beatriz.
"What key?"
She whispered:
"The inheritance."
That night, Daniel brought in a forensic genealogist.
The results arrived at 2:13 a.m.
The first DNA comparison confirmed what Beatriz had told us.
I was Isabella's biological father.
There was no surprise there.
But the second test was different.
It compared Isabella's DNA with samples recovered from my father's belongings.
The result was unexpected.
Isabella was not merely his granddaughter.
She carried a rare genetic marker from my father's maternal line.
A marker that appeared in fewer than one percent of the tested population.
Daniel stared at the report.
"That's why Gabriel wanted her."
"Because of the marker?"
"No."
He pointed to another section.
"Because this marker was also present in Lucia Marquez."
I looked at him.
"Elena's adoptive mother."
"Yes."
I frowned.
"Then what does that mean?"
Daniel looked at Beatriz.
She went pale.
"Tell him."
Beatriz shook her head.
"I can't."
"Tell me."
She closed her eyes.
"Lucia wasn't Elena's adoptive mother."
"What?"
"She was her grandmother."
Silence.
I stared at her.
"Then why did everyone say she adopted Elena?"
"Because Elena was born into a family that didn't legally exist."
"What family?"
"The Marquez family."
I felt a chill.
"Who were they?"
Beatriz whispered:
"The original owners of the network."
Daniel looked stunned.
"The empire."
Beatriz nodded.
"Before Gabriel."
"Before my father."
"Before everyone."
"The Marquez family controlled it."
I stared at Isabella.
"Then Elena was the heir."
"Yes."
"And Isabella?"
Beatriz's eyes filled with tears.
"The next heir."
Everything suddenly made sense.
The money.
The trust.
The surveillance.
The blue room.
The missing months.
Gabriel wasn't trying to steal a fortune.
He was trying to prevent Isabella from inheriting an entire hidden network.
A network that had survived generations.
A network powerful enough to influence banks, courts, politicians, developers, and police.
And my father had discovered it.
He had taken Isabella because he believed hiding her was the only way to keep the network from Gabriel.
But why had he hidden the truth from me?
Because there was another secret.
One even worse.
I found it at dawn.
In a locked drawer inside my father's desk.
The document was old.
Very old.
At the top was the name:
MARQUEZ SUCCESSION AGREEMENT.
Below it were four names.
Lucia Marquez.
Elena Marquez.
Isabella Marquez.
And mine.
I stared at the last line.
My name had been added later.
Beside it was a handwritten note.
If anything happens to Elena, he becomes guardian.
I looked at Daniel.
"He planned this."
Daniel nodded.
"Years before Isabella was born."
I turned the page.
Another note.
But if the child remembers, the father must tell her the truth.
Below it:
The child must never be raised by Beatriz.
I froze.
"Why?"
Daniel looked at the paper.
"Read the next line."
I did.
Because Beatriz is not who she says she is.
The room went silent.
I looked toward the doorway.
Beatriz was gone.
I found her in the garden.
She stood beside the old fountain.
The same place where the first blue box had appeared.
I walked toward her.
"You knew."
She didn't turn.
"You knew my father suspected you."
"Yes."
"You knew he warned me."
"Yes."
"Who are you?"
She finally turned.
Tears streamed down her face.
"My name isn't Beatriz."
I waited.
She whispered:
"Beatriz Marquez."
I stared.
"Marquez?"
She nodded.
"Elena wasn't the only heir."
I felt the world shift.
"There was another daughter."
"Yes."
"Who?"
She looked at me.
"Me."
I couldn't speak.
"You are Elena's sister."
"Half-sister."
"And Isabella's aunt."
"Yes."
I stepped backward.
"Then why did you marry me?"
"Because your father asked me to."
"To protect Isabella?"
She shook her head.
"To protect you."
"From Gabriel?"
"No."
She looked toward the house.
"From the Marquez family."
I frowned.
"They're dead."
"No."
Her voice trembled.
"They're not."
I stared at her.
"How many?"
She whispered:
"Enough."
Before I could ask another question, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A man's voice spoke.
"Now you know who the girl is."
I said nothing.
The voice continued.
"But you still don't know who her father really is."
My blood ran cold.
"I am her father."
A quiet laugh.
"Biologically."
"What does that mean?"
"You weren't the only man Elena loved."
I tightened my grip on the phone.
"Who?"
The caller said:
"Ask Beatriz what happened the night Isabella was conceived."
I looked at Beatriz.
Her face collapsed.
The call ended.
I stared at her.
"What happened that night?"
She couldn't answer.
"Beatriz."
Finally, she whispered:
"Elena was with someone else."
"Who?"
She looked at me.
"Gabriel."
I froze.
"That's impossible."
"No."
She shook her head.
"That's what they wanted you to believe."
I stepped toward her.
"Then whose child is Isabella?"
Beatriz closed her eyes.
"I don't know."
That answer was the most terrifying thing I had heard yet.
Because if Isabella wasn't mine—
then the entire inheritance had been built on a lie.
And somewhere beyond the gates, someone was waiting for us to discover the truth.
Someone who had known Isabella's real identity since the day she was born.
Someone who had spent three years preparing for this moment.
May you like
Someone who now knew that we were finally asking the right question.
Who is Isabella's real father?
