Chapter 4 - Unraveling the Conspiracy
The following morning, Mercy General Hospital looked like a fortress of immaculate white tiles and polite bureaucracy, but it didn't stand a chance against Matteo Varric.
Accompanied by Liana—who wore a tailored civilian suit Matteo had had delivered overnight—and a team of corporate legal pitbulls, Matteo marched through the front doors. The hospital administrator rushed out, sweating profusely, trying to block their path to the secure neonatal records archive.
"Mr. Varric! This is highly irregular. You cannot simply seize medical databases without a court order—"
"I don't need a court order when I own forty percent of this hospital's endowment fund," Matteo cut him off, his voice slicing through the lobby like glass. "Open the archives for sector 9, or I will strip this building of its funding by noon."
Within ten minutes, they were locked inside the secure digital records room. Liana’s eyes scanned the encrypted birth logs from nine months ago. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, cross-referencing DNA sample barcodes with the hospital's internal waste disposal logs.
"Here," Liana gasped, pointing at a corrupted file that had been manually overwritten. "Look at the DNA sequencing markers for patient ID V-902. They altered the genetic mapping profile to match yours, Mr. Varric, but they made a rookie mistake. They forgot to wipe the mitochondrial DNA log."
Matteo leaned over her shoulder, his chest brushing against her back as he read the data. "Mitochondrial DNA is inherited exclusively from the mother," he murmured, realization dawning in his eyes. "The profile on file... it doesn't match Elena. It matches yours, Liana."
Before they could celebrate, the heavy metal door of the archive room slammed open.
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Julian Varric stood in the doorway, flanked by two armed private security guards. A cold, arrogant smirk played across his lips.
"Well, well, well," Julian mocked, slowly clapping his hands. "Playing detective with the hired help, Matteo? I must admit, I never took you for a man of low-class domestic romance. Though I suppose misery loves company."
