Chapter 38 Brick by Brick
Flora
Three Hours Earlier.
I watched Rafael leave with Marco.
My heart ached. He'd kissed my forehead. Told me to stay alive. Looked at me like I actually mattered.
But I knew the truth.
I was just Eva's replacement. A spare part. Nothing more.
"Come on," Isabella said gently. "Let's go through these files. Maybe we'll find something useful."
I nodded and followed her back to the computer.
The USB drive had dozens of files. Audio recordings, documents and photos.
Isabella started with the audio files.
Father Matthews's voice filled the room. Recording after recording of confessions. People admitting their sins. Seeking forgiveness.
Most of it was useless. Mundane sins and everyday guilt.
But then we found one dated two months before Eva's death.
A woman's voice, distorted. Like she was speaking through a filter.
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."
"Go on, my child," Father Matthews said.
"I've done terrible things. Unforgivable things. But I did them for love. You understand that, don't you? Everything I've done has been for love."
"What have you done?"
She paused.
"I created life. Where there should have been none. I played God. And now... now I don't know how to stop what I've started."
My blood ran cold.
"You're talking about the twins," Father Matthews said. "Eva and Lucia."
"Yes. I shouldn't have agreed to it. But they offered so much money. And I needed it. My research needed it."
"You're Dr. Vasquez?"
"Yes," the woman confirmed. "But I'm not the one pulling the strings, Father. I'm just another pawn in their game."
"Whose game?"
"I can't tell you that. They'll kill me. They'll kill everyone I love."
"Then why confess at all?"
She paused again. Longer this time.
"Because Eva is asking questions. Getting close to the truth. And they're going to kill her. I know they are. And I can't... I can't let that happen without trying to warn someone. Without trying to stop it."
"You need to go to the authorities…"
"No! You don't understand. They are the authorities. They're everywhere. Watching and listening. There's no escape."
The recording cut off.
Isabella and I stared at each other.
"Dr. Vasquez knew," Isabella whispered. "She knew they were going to kill Eva."
"And she tried to warn Father Matthews," I said. "But he couldn't stop it."
"Or wouldn't," Isabella said darkly.
I kept scrolling through the files.
And then I found it.
A document labeled "Final Confession - Father Matthews."
I opened it.
It was a written confession. In Father Matthews's own handwriting.
"To whoever finds this, I failed. I failed Eva. I failed Lucia. I failed everyone. The Architect came to me years ago. Made me an offer. Money for the church. Protection for my congregation. All I had to do was keep quiet. Report back on what Eva told me in our sessions. What she suspected. What she knew."
My hands started shaking.
"I told myself I was protecting the church. Protecting the people who depended on me. But the truth is, I was a coward. I was bought. And Eva died because I stayed silent."
Isabella grabbed my arm. "Flora..."
"The Architect's identity is something I've protected for too long. But I can't anymore. I can't take this secret to my grave. So I'm writing it here, in code, in case they find this document before the right people do."
A code. He'd hidden the Architect's identity in a code.
I kept reading.
"The truth is in the name. The one who creates. The one who designs. The one who's been there from the very beginning, building Rafael's prison brick by brick."
"What does that mean?" Isabella asked.
I read it again. And again.
The truth is in the name.
Architect.
Someone who creates. Who designs. Who builds.
And then it hit me.
"Oh my God," I whispered.
"What? Flora, what is it?"
I looked at Isabella. "I know who it is."
"Who?"
I stood up and walked to the door. Looked out at the guards positioned around the estate.
Men who'd been there for years. Men Rafael trusted. Men who were always watching. Always listening.
"Flora, you're scaring me. Who is the Architect?"
I turned back to her. "Call Rafael. Tell him to come back. Now."
"Why? What did you figure out?"
But I couldn't say it out loud. Not yet. Not until I was sure.
I pulled out my phone and opened the photo the Architect had sent. The one of Maria Martinez.
I zoomed in on the wall behind her. On the message written in red.
"Come to me or she dies."
I zoomed in closer. On the handwriting. The specific way the letters curved.
And I saw it.
I'd seen that handwriting before, recently.
On the whiteboard in Father Matthews's office at the church.
On the notes Marco had been taking in the command center.
On documents Marco had shown us earlier.
It was Marco's handwriting.
Marco was the Architect.
My hands shook as the realization hit me like a physical blow.
Marco. Rafael's best friend. His most trusted advisor. The man who'd been by his side for over fifteen years.
He'd been there from the beginning. He'd designed everything. Built Rafael's prison brick by brick.
"Flora?" Isabella's voice seemed distant. "Flora, what's wrong?"
I looked at her. "We need to be very careful. Don't react. Don't say anything. Just act normal."
"What are you talking about?"
"I need you to trust me," I said. "Can you do that?"
Isabella nodded slowly.
I called Rafael. Told him to come back. That I knew who the Architect was.
And then I hung up.
"Now what?" Isabella asked.
"Now we wait," I said. "And we prepare."
"Prepare for what?"
I walked to the desk and opened the drawer where I'd seen Marco keep a backup gun earlier.
It was still there.
I took it out and checked the magazine. It was fully loaded.
"Flora, what are you doing?"
"Insurance," I said.
Twenty minutes later, I heard vehicles pulling up outside.
Rafael was back.
But Marco was with him.
I looked at Isabella. "I'm sorry. But I need you to trust me. No matter what happens next."
"Flora…"
I pointed the gun at her. "Don't scream. Don't fight. Just sit in that chair."
Isabella's face went pale. "Flora, what are you…"
"Please," I begged. "Just trust me. I know what I'm doing."
She sat down slowly.
I grabbed rope from the supply closet and tied her to the chair and gagged her.
Then I positioned myself beside her with gun in my hand.
I heard footsteps. Rafael's voice calling my name.
He appeared in the doorway.
Saw me, saw Isabella tied up and the gun.
"Flora?" His was shocked. "What are you doing?"
I smiled. Making it cold and cruel. Like the Architect's smile would be.
"Hello, Rafael," I said. "Or should I say... goodbye?"