CHAPTER 4

I turn back to the clerk. The man smiles. His skin is amber-toned, perhaps of Middle Eastern descent. I’ve heard of Mossad agents, and anxiety freezes my hands. What am I even thinking? The truth is, I should be in school right now. Are they looking for me? Have they already called my mom?

«Maybe… the room key?» I reply, not very convincingly.

«The door unlocks with your ID card. No keys needed.»

I force a smile. «Of course, thank you so much. Goodbye.»

Idiot. I didn’t even confirm the room number. I glance back; the man types something on his computer and disappears into an adjacent office.

Where’s Emanuele?

Maybe he’s waiting in front of the room. I don’t know why, but I trusted him when he said he wouldn’t abandon me. Or maybe I want to trust him—I need to. Will I regret it? Probably, but I feel like I’ll regret a lot more before this is over.

Maybe I should rehearse the role of the traumatized teenager who gets into deep trouble and pleads for forgiveness. But I already know I’ll suck at apologizing when this mess comes to light.

Because obviously, it won’t stay a secret. Sooner or later, they’ll look for me, my face will be on the news, and I’ll have to flee to Alaska to avoid becoming the laughingstock of my class. I can already picture Elisa calling hospitals in a panic.

I head toward the elevators, but an elderly couple gives me a suspicious look. Not wanting to attract attention, I opt for the stairs.

The first digit usually indicates the floor, so I count three flights. I climb them quickly, surprisingly not out of breath. My dad always pushed me into athletics, and I have to admit, it paid off. Despite my petite frame, I can handle physical challenges. Like scaling my school’s roof to escape like a Marvel spy. Better not dwell on that.

The hallway is empty. No sign of Emanuele.

My footsteps are muffled by the dull gray carpet, uneven and hesitant as I scan the door numbers. 309. There it is.

I press my ear against the door. Nothing.

I lick my lips and hold my ID card to the electronic lock. A green light flashes. I step inside, closing the door behind me—the fear of someone entering is worse than the fear of being trapped.

The room is minimal: sparse furniture, an off TV, harsh neon lighting. The narrow, tall window barely offers a view, draped with heavy curtains. It feels more like a sterile workspace than a place to relax.

I notice images of ships and old maps—fitting for a place called Hotel Caravel. One picture shows Columbus’ fleet discovering America, identical to the one in the lobby.

«October 12, 1492,» I whisper.

Numbers have been ruining my life today, so yeah, I’m getting paranoid. Could there be a hidden message? Nothing obvious.

I examine the frame, then lift the picture off the wall.

Bingo!A small white safe with an electronic keypad. This really is a treasure hunt. Maybe it’s one of those hidden-camera shows. Honestly, that’s my favorite theory so far.

The thought lifts my spirits. Now what? The keypad accepts six digits, so the year 1492 is out.

«Unless...»

Without hesitation, I punch in the date in shorthand: 121092.

BEEP. A red light flashes.It hits me like a punch. I wasn’t expecting to get it wrong, and the disappointment stings more than it should.

I mutter a curse under my breath, raising my hand to try again. Two attempts left.

I enter my birthdate. Nothing.

One last chance.

What happens if I fail?

Suddenly, the TV flickers on—gray static, like a swarm of insects dancing across the screen. But that’s not what sends me into panic mode.

A piercing noise shreds through my skull. I drop to my knees, clutching my ears. I can’t even scream; the pain steals my voice.

My mind floods with images—like memories, but not mine. They flash by, distorted, jagged, like a corrupted film reel. I want to stop it, but I can’t. I’m trapped, sucked into this twisted, incomprehensible world.

«It’s okay. It’s over.»

Emanuele’s voice is like cool water on burning skin. I clutch his shoulder, desperate to stay conscious.

«The TV turned on and...»

«What did you see?»

«Static, but then… that sound. I don’t know. I was sitting at a white table, with papers… numbers, codes, and a nurse. My hands were so... small.»

«What was she telling you?»

«I couldn’t tell. Her voice was distorted. Like a broken radio,» I gasp, trying to catch my breath.

«Come on, lie down.»

He helps me up, supporting me like I might collapse at any second.

«What’s happening to me?» I groan, unable to form coherent thoughts.

He sits beside me. «There’s a lot you don’t know about yourself.»

«And you? What do you want from me?»

His gaze pins me down. «The truth, Lilia.»

Those words ignite something sharp—anger, frustration.

«What truth? I’m a junior in high school. I’m just some girl. I’m nobody! I try my best, but it’s never enough... never...»

I can’t finish. My body locks up, rigid, like an electric current is running through me.

This time, I see my father.Wearing a suit and tie.He looks at me… but not like his daughter. There’s none of that warm, familiar smile.

«He’s looking at me like I’m... an object.»

«Who’s looking at you?»

I mumble the answer. Emanuele places a hand on my forehead. His touch grounds me, letting me breathe again.

«I’m thirsty.»

My throat feels like sandpaper. The cool water he offers anchors me, pulling me back to reality. I try to sit up, but my body feels like stone.

«Everything hurts.»

He places a steady hand on my shoulder. «It’s your tendons. If you don’t relax, you’ll tear something.»

His fingers press gently at the base of my neck, easing the tension. Part of me wishes he’d never stop. I want the world to freeze in this moment.

But as his touch moves down my arms, warmth floods my face. It sparks feelings I don’t understand—don’t want to understand. I pull away, breaking the contact.

Emanuele parts his lips, his blue eyes turbulent like a stormy sea.

«Sorry, I didn’t mean to…»

«No, it’s fine. I feel better,» I blurt out.

He stands, pacing like a caged animal.

I watch him. «You’ve been pretending to be a student this whole time, haven’t you?»

«I don’t have a simple answer for that, Lilia. For almost three years, I was a student. I didn’t fake anything.»

«But before that?»

«Before that, I was many things.»

«And you’re not going to tell me, are you?»

Sadness flickers in his eyes, deep and unspoken. If he weren’t looking at me like that, I’d probably scream at him. The need to know is driving me insane.

He rests his hands on the desk like he needs something solid to hold onto.

«I’m sorry for what you’re going through. If I could spare you from it, I would.»

«I just need you to talk to me,» I beg.

He nods, staring at his hands for a moment before meeting my gaze.

«I will, Lilia. I promise. But there are things I need to figure out too. I just need you to trust me until then.»

At this point, I don’t even know if I want my old life back. It feels empty now, like something was always missing. There’s no choice but to move forward, no matter how scared I am.

«What do I have to do to fix all of this?»

«I wasn’t lying when I said we have to find out together,» he replies, walking toward the safe. «You failed two attempts?»

«Yeah. I don’t know what happens if I miss the third.»

He glances around. «Six digits. There has to be a clue.»

«I thought it might be connected to that picture,» I say, pointing at the framed print face-down on the desk.

He picks it up, studies it, then hands it to me.

«Look at it again.»

I rest it on my lap, frustrated. «I don’t know what I’m supposed to find.»

«Don’t ask yourself that. Just look. Don’t think.»

I sigh, doing as he says.

«Now what?»

«Go back to the safe.»

My legs are shaky, but I manage. I stare at the keypad, and suddenly, the numbers I need flash in my mind. My jaw drops.

«Do it, Lilia.»

«But if I’m wrong…»

«You won’t be.»

I take a deep breath and type them in. Green light.

I freeze.

«I don’t even know where that came from.»

«Ask yourself.»

I answer without thinking, like in a dream.

«The date of Columbus’ discovery of America. But I swapped the month and day.»

«Like in American date formats,» he points out.

I glance at the picture again.

«The date is written in English. I should’ve realized sooner. But I didn’t know I knew that kind of thing.»

«Trust your instincts. The brain absorbs more than you think. It’s all there—you just don’t always realize it.»

«Yeah... This is insane, right?»

He nods. «You’ll see a lot of insane things from now on. Starting with what’s inside that safe.»

«You already know?»

He smirks slightly.

«No. But I doubt it’s a cake recipe.»

«Now that would be impossible.» I force a smile, opening the heavy door.

There’s only a letter.

But when I recognize my father’s handwriting, my breath catches.

My dear daughter,

If you are reading these words, it means I am dead. I am sorry for the pain this has caused you. I wanted to be the one to tell you the truth, but I hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. I hoped you would have a normal life.

Unfortunately, that is no longer possible.

«What does that mean?» I whisper, unable to tear my eyes away from those words.

For your safety, I cannot write more details than necessary, but know that you are in danger. There are people looking for you. You can’t trust anyone.

I lift my eyes to Emanuele. He looks at me, and suddenly he seems older than a high school senior. Once again, he feels like a different person. What if the connection I feel is just something he’s crafted to get information from me? He seems sincere, but isn’t that how cons work? I wonder if I’ve been foolish to tell him everything. My hands tremble, but I force myself to keep reading.

Here’s what you need to do:

41° 54' 00" North

12° 30' 00" East

1, B, 82

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I wish I could tell you everything in these few lines, and at this point, I regret not having done so sooner. Be careful—if you are discovered, death is the best thing that could happen to you.

Destroy this letter as soon as you finish reading it, and do not speak of it to anyone.

I embrace you,

Dad

«Bad news?» Emanuele asks softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

I don’t know what to say. At this point, I don’t even know if I should say anything.