PART 4
For several seconds, I forgot how to breathe.
The woman on the monitor was older.
Her hair was streaked with gray.
Her face was thinner.
There were lines around her eyes that hadn’t existed in the photograph above Grandpa’s fireplace.
But I knew her.
I knew the curve of her mouth.
I knew the small scar above her left eyebrow.
I knew the way she tilted her head when she was frightened.
“Mom?”
My voice came out broken.
The woman on the screen began crying.
Her whole body shook against the ropes.
“Mom!”
I rushed toward the monitor as if I could somehow reach through it.
Caleb grabbed my shoulders.
“Emily, don’t.”
“That’s my mother!”
“I know.”
“She’s alive!”
Christopher stared at the screen like he had seen a ghost.
“No,” he whispered.
I turned on him.
“What do you mean, no?”
Christopher didn’t answer.
The old man beside my mother smiled into the camera.
Michael Bennett.
My supposed biological father.
The man who had vanished the night I was born.
“Still emotional,” he said.
“Just like Margaret.”
I stepped toward the speaker.
“You let me think she was dead.”
Michael’s smile widened.
“No.”
“Thomas did.”
I looked at Grandpa.
His head hung forward.
Blood had dried along his temple.
“Don’t blame him for everything,” Michael continued.
“He lied because Margaret begged him to.”
My mother shook her head violently.
Michael glanced down at her.
“Would you like to tell Emily yourself?”
He reached over and ripped the tape from her mouth.
Mom gasped.
“Emily!”
My knees nearly gave out.
Her voice.
Older.
Weaker.
But hers.
I hadn’t heard it since I was seven years old.
I covered my mouth.
“Mom.”
She started sobbing.
“I’m sorry.”
“Where have you been?”
“Emily, listen to me.”
“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?”
“I couldn’t come back.”
“Twenty years!”
“I know.”
“You let me bury you!”
Her face crumpled.
“I know.”
“You let me think you were dead!”
“I know.”
I could barely see through my tears.
“You missed everything.”
Her lips trembled.
“Your graduation.”
“Yes.”
“College.”
“Yes.”
“Every birthday.”
“Yes.”
“My baby.”
At that, Mom shut her eyes.
“I know about Nora.”
My blood went cold.
“How?”
She looked toward Michael.
He answered for her.
“Because we’ve been watching you.”
I backed away from the screen.
Christopher cursed under his breath.
Caleb stepped closer to me.
“Emily, we need to move.”
“No.”
“Whatever this is, he’s stalling us.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
I looked at him.
“Twenty years, Caleb.”
“I know.”
“My mother is alive.”
“I know.”
“I’m not leaving until someone tells me why.”
Michael laughed softly over the speakers.
“That’s exactly why I knew you would come.”
Christopher raised his gun toward the monitor.
“You always loved an audience.”
Michael’s expression changed.
“Christopher.”
For the first time, his voice lost its amusement.
“So the coward finally came back.”
Christopher’s jaw tightened.
“Let them go.”
Michael smiled again.
“You’re in no position to negotiate.”
“You wanted me.”
“I did.”
“Then you have me.”
“No.”
Michael looked directly into the camera.
“I wanted all of you.”
The monitor suddenly split into four camera feeds.
One showed Grandpa.
One showed my mother.
One showed us standing in the archive room.
And the fourth showed—
Aunt Ruth’s house.
My heart stopped.
“No.”
The camera angle was from across the street.
Ruth’s porch light was on.
My truck wasn’t there.
But through one downstairs window, I could see movement.
“NO!”
I grabbed Caleb.
“He knows where Nora is.”
Michael’s voice filled the room.
“Of course I do.”
I lunged toward the door.
Caleb blocked me.
“Move!”
“Emily, stop.”
“My daughter is there!”
“If you run blindly into the hall, you may never reach her.”
“GET OUT OF MY WAY!”
Christopher grabbed my arm.
I swung at him.
He caught my wrist.
“Listen to Caleb.”
“Don’t touch me!”
Christopher released me.
“Michael wants you panicking.”
“He knows where my baby is!”
“Yes.”
“And if he wanted Nora taken already, she would be gone.”
The words hit hard.
I hated that he was right.
I looked back at the monitor.
“Why haven’t you taken her?”
Michael smiled.
“Because Nora isn’t useful without you.”
I felt sick.
“What do you want?”
“Finally.”
He leaned closer to the camera.
“A sensible question.”
“I asked what you want.”
“I want what your mother stole from me twenty-seven years ago.”
Mom cried out.
“Don’t tell her!”
Michael grabbed the back of her chair.
“Margaret.”
“Leave her out of this!”
Mom looked at me.
“Emily, whatever he says, don’t believe him.”
Michael sighed.
“You see what I endured?”
I wanted to reach through the screen and hurt him.
“Tell me.”
Michael’s face became serious.
“The Mercer Project was never about eyes.”
I glanced at Christopher.
He said nothing.
“The eyes were only an indicator,” Michael continued.
“An imperfect one.”
“Indicator of what?”
“A genetic signature.”
Caleb looked toward the files lining the room.
Michael saw him.
“Go ahead, Caleb.”
Caleb didn’t move.
“Open drawer seven.”
I stared at him.
“Do it.”
Caleb walked to a cabinet.
Seven was scratched into one drawer.
He pulled it open.
Inside were dozens of folders.
Each had a name.
A date.
And a colored circle.
Caleb removed the top one.
The name read:
EMILY BENNETT.
My stomach turned.
“Open it.”
Caleb did.
Inside were blood test results.
Photographs of me as a newborn.
Medical notes.
One page was stamped:
SUBJECT E-27.
“What is this?”
Michael answered.
“You.”
I shook my head.
“I can see that.”
“Your mother’s pregnancy was never ordinary.”
Mom shouted.
“Stop!”
Michael ignored her.
“Margaret volunteered for Bellweather.”
I looked at the screen.
Mom’s face said it was true.
“Why?”
“She wanted a baby.”
My throat tightened.
“She already had a husband.”
“Yes.”
“A husband who couldn’t father children.”
I stared.
Dad.
The man who raised me.
Michael continued.
“Margaret and her husband had been trying for years.”
Mom cried silently.
“They came to Bellweather because Daniel promised them a solution.”
I turned toward Christopher.
“Daniel ran this place?”
“He helped build the research program.”
“Then Michael?”
Christopher looked at the screen.
“Funded it.”
Michael smiled.
“Finally, someone remembers.”
I looked down at the file.
“What did they do to my mother?”
Mom whispered,
“Emily, I wanted you.”
I looked at her.
“I need you to know that.”
“What did they do?”
She looked at Michael.
Then back at me.
“It started as fertility treatment.”
My skin crawled.
“Started?”
Mom began shaking.
“They told me they were using a donor.”
I looked at Michael.
His smile was gone.
Mom continued.
“I believed them.”
“Whose donor?”
“I didn’t know.”
My eyes dropped to the family tree.
Michael Bennett.
“Yours?”
Michael nodded.
My stomach twisted.
“You used your own genetic material?”
He looked almost offended.
“Not exactly.”
“Then explain it.”
“The Bellweather program combined multiple lines.”
“What does that mean?”
Christopher spoke quietly.
“They were selecting embryos.”
I stared at him.
“For what?”
He looked toward Nora’s image on the monitor.
“That is what nobody ever told me.”
Michael laughed.
“Coward to the end.”
Christopher aimed the gun toward the speaker.
“Keep talking.”
Michael didn’t flinch.
“We were searching for a specific inherited compatibility.”
“With what?”
“Something my family had spent generations protecting.”
“This is insane.”
“Most fortunes look insane before people learn what they’re attached to.”
“What fortune?”
Michael’s eyes sharpened.
“There it is.”
He seemed pleased.
“The inheritance.”
I remembered Mom’s recording.
A hidden inheritance.
The Mercer bloodline.
“Money?”
“Not merely money.”
“How much?”
Michael smiled.
“Enough that people killed for it before you were born.”
Grandpa finally raised his head on the monitor.
“Emily.”
His voice was weak.
I rushed toward the screen.
“Grandpa.”
“Don’t listen to him.”
Michael grabbed Grandpa’s shoulder.
“Thomas, you’ve had your turn.”
Grandpa glared at him.
“You murdered her parents.”
I froze.
Michael looked at Grandpa.
Then smiled.
“Did I?”
My mother screamed.
“Thomas!”
Grandpa’s face changed.
Michael laughed.
“Oh, this is better than I expected.”
I looked between them.
“What does that mean?”
Grandpa shut his eyes.
“Emily.”
“No.”
I felt anger rising again.
“No more secrets.”
My mother began crying harder.
“Emily, please.”
“Who died in that crash?”
Nobody answered.
My hands trembled.
“WHO DIED IN THAT CAR?”
Michael clapped once.
“Excellent.”
Grandpa whispered,
“Your father.”
I stopped.
“The man who raised you?”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“Dad really died?”
Grandpa nodded.
“And Mom?”
He looked at her on the screen.
“No.”
I turned to Michael.
“What happened?”
Michael looked amused.
“Margaret decided she wanted out.”
Mom shouted.
“I wanted my daughter safe!”
“You stole years of work.”
“You were experimenting on children!”
The room went silent.
I looked at my mother.
“What?”
Her eyes widened.
She realized she had said too much.
“Mom.”
“Emily—”
“You said children.”
Michael’s smile slowly returned.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
I grabbed the nearest file.
Another name.
Another child.
Subject M-14.
Then another.
Subject C-19.
Then another.
There were dozens.
“Bellweather wasn’t just fertility treatment.”
“No,” Caleb whispered.
I looked at him.
“You knew?”
“Not all of it.”
“How much?”
“Enough to hate my father.”
“Daniel?”
“Yes.”
Michael interrupted.
“Daniel was sentimental.”
Christopher gave a bitter laugh.
“That is the first lie you’ve told tonight.”
Michael’s eyes hardened.
“Daniel understood the goal.”
“What goal?”
He looked at me.
“To produce the heir.”
I almost laughed.
“The heir to what?”
Michael nodded toward the file in Caleb’s hands.
“Read the final page.”
Caleb flipped through.
His face changed.
“What?”
I grabbed it.
At the bottom was a line:
PRIMARY COMPATIBILITY CONFIRMED.
BLOODLINE SUCCESSION PROBABILITY: 99.8%.
Beneath that:
DESIGNATION: KEYHOLDER.
I stared.
“Keyholder?”
Michael smiled.
“You.”
My phone vibrated.
I jumped.
One new message.
A photograph.
Nora asleep in Ruth’s arms.
Taken through the window.
Under it:
THE SECOND KEYHOLDER.
I screamed.
Caleb grabbed the phone.
Christopher swore.
Michael’s voice came through the speakers.
“Do you understand now?”
“No.”
“You were the first viable successor.”
“To what?”
“And Nora is the first child born from you.”
I felt cold.
“So she’s what?”
Michael leaned closer to the camera.
“She completes the line.”
My mother cried out.
“Don’t you touch her!”
Michael looked toward her.
“I don’t need to.”
I stared at him.
“What do you mean?”
“The inheritance cannot be claimed without consent from the living successor.”
I swallowed.
“Me.”
“Yes.”
“And Nora?”
“Proof that the bloodline continues.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“All this because of an inheritance?”
Michael’s face went dark.
“You still think this is about money.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
He said nothing.
Christopher did.
“A trust.”
Michael glared at him.
Christopher continued.
“An old private trust connected to several companies.”
“How many?”
Christopher looked at me.
“More than a hundred.”
I stared.
“What kind of companies?”
“Land.”
“Banking.”
“Medical research.”
“Defense.”
“Energy.”
My stomach dropped.
Michael smiled.
“And the controlling rights transfer only to the verified successor.”
“Me.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Nora’s image again.
“Then why does she matter?”
“Because once you have a legal descendant, the succession becomes irrevocable.”
I suddenly understood.
“Before Nora was born, someone could still challenge me.”
“Yes.”
“But now?”
“Now the chain is complete.”
I looked at Mom.
“That’s why Caleb disappeared.”
Caleb stepped closer.
“Yes.”
I turned on him.
“You knew?”
“I learned enough.”
“And you left.”
“To keep them from knowing you were pregnant.”
“They already knew!”
“Not at first.”
He looked toward the tracker we had found.
“The bag wasn’t from me.”
My anger paused.
“What?”
“I bought the bag.”
“I never planted a tracker.”
“Who did?”
Michael answered.
“Me.”
I stared at the screen.
“How?”
“Hospital staff are easier to influence than you would like to believe.”
My stomach twisted.
“You had someone near me at the hospital?”
“Several people.”
I thought about Nora fighting for her life.
The two weeks in neonatal care.
Every nurse.
Every doctor.
Every stranger who entered the room.
“Did you do something to my baby?”
Michael’s expression changed.
“No.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
I looked at Mom.
She shouted,
“He’s telling the truth about that.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was there.”
I froze.
“What?”
Mom began crying.
“I was at the hospital.”
My heart cracked.
“You were there?”
“I watched from the hallway.”
“You saw me?”
“Yes.”
“You saw Nora?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t come to me?”
Her whole face collapsed.
“I wanted to.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
Michael answered.
“Because I told her if she approached you, Thomas would die.”
I looked at Grandpa.
His eyes closed.
“Is that true?”
“Yes.”
I stepped back.
Everything felt unreal.
The deaths.
The lies.
The files.
The cameras.
My mother alive.
My biological father staring at me from a monitor.
“Why now?”
I whispered.
Michael heard.
“What?”
“Why reveal everything now?”
His smile returned.
“Because Nora was born.”
“You just said she completed the line.”
“Yes.”
“So you need me to sign something.”
“Very good.”
A printer beside the filing cabinets suddenly hummed.
I jumped.
Pages began sliding out.
Caleb grabbed them.
“What is it?”
He read the first page.
His face drained.
“No.”
“What?”
He handed it to me.
TRANSFER OF SUCCESSION AUTHORITY.
I skimmed.
Legal language.
Trust control.
Proxy authority.
Michael Bennett.
My name.
“This gives you control.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Permanently.”
I looked at him.
“You expect me to sign this?”
“I do.”
I laughed.
“Then you’re even crazier than I thought.”
Michael’s expression didn’t change.
The monitor feed switched.
A new camera.
A vehicle parked outside Ruth’s house.
Two men were getting out.
My blood froze.
“No.”
Michael said calmly,
“You have six minutes.”
I grabbed the printer and tore the documents apart.
“Go to hell.”
One of the men on the screen walked toward Ruth’s porch.
My mother screamed.
“Michael, stop!”
He ignored her.
“Sign.”
“No.”
“Five minutes, forty seconds.”
Caleb pulled out his phone.
“No signal.”
Christopher checked his.
“Jammed.”
I ran for the hallway.
Caleb caught me.
“Emily!”
“I’m going to Ruth.”
“You won’t make it in time.”
“Then let me try!”
Christopher pointed toward the security map on the wall.
“There may be another way.”
“What?”
He ripped a laminated building plan from behind the door.
“Bellweather had a dedicated line.”
“Phone?”
“Not exactly.”
Michael laughed over the speakers.
“You’re wasting time.”
Christopher scanned the map.
“There.”
He pointed.
“Control room.”
“Where?”
“Basement.”
Caleb nodded.
“If we cut the jammer, we can call police.”
“Will they get to Ruth in time?”
“No.”
My chest seized.
Grandpa shouted from the monitor.
“Emily!”
I turned.
“Trust Ruth.”
“What?”
“She knows more than you think.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Grandpa smiled weakly.
“Did you really think I would leave the only thing I love more than my life with someone helpless?”
Michael’s expression changed.
For the first time all night, he looked uncertain.
The camera at Ruth’s house showed one man reaching for the doorknob.
The porch light went out.
Then every window went dark.
The camera feed shook.
One man turned.
A bright flash exploded across the screen.
Then static.
Michael stood up.
“What did she do?”
Grandpa laughed.
It was faint, but it was real.
“Ruth was Margaret’s extraction officer.”
I stared.
“Her what?”
Mom looked shocked.
“Thomas.”
“You never told her?”
Grandpa smiled.
“Some secrets were actually useful.”
Michael slammed his fist against the table.
The feed returned.
One man was unconscious on Ruth’s lawn.
The other was running toward the vehicle.
Then Ruth stepped onto the porch.
My sweet seventy-four-year-old Aunt Ruth.
Still wearing her robe.
Holding what looked like a shotgun.
I almost cried with relief.
Grandpa looked toward the camera.
“Told you.”
Michael’s face twisted with rage.
“You think you’ve won?”
Grandpa smiled.
“No.”
“But you’ve just lost your leverage.”
Michael grabbed my mother by the hair.
I screamed.
“DON’T TOUCH HER!”
“Sign.”
“You said Nora was the leverage.”
“I have options.”
Mom cried out.
Grandpa struggled against his restraints.
Christopher raised his gun.
“Michael!”
The older man looked directly into the camera.
“You always were predictable.”
Then the screen went black.
“Mom!”
Nothing.
“GRANDPA!”
Nothing.
All four feeds disappeared.
Caleb grabbed my arm.
“We have to move now.”
I looked at him.
“To where?”
“The control room.”
Christopher shook his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“He wants us there.”
Caleb stared at him.
“How do you know?”
Christopher pointed at the building plan.
“There are two control rooms.”
Caleb frowned.
“Only one is marked.”
“Exactly.”
Christopher moved to the family tree.
He pressed the frame.
A hidden panel popped open.
Inside was another floor plan.
Older.
Hand drawn.
“Where did you get that?”
“I helped Margaret build the escape route.”
My head snapped toward him.
“You knew my mother was alive.”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
I felt betrayed all over again.
“You knew?”
“For years.”
“And you said nothing.”
“She made me promise.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Apparently my whole life was built on promises.”
Christopher didn’t argue.
He pointed toward a passage.
“There is a service tunnel beneath Bellweather.”
“Where does it go?”
“Old carriage house half a mile east.”
“And?”
“Michael doesn’t know we know about it.”
Caleb studied the map.
“Unless he does.”
Christopher nodded.
“Possible.”
I stared at both men.
“I’m done hiding.”
They looked at me.
“We’re getting my mother and Grandpa.”
“Emily—”
“No.”
I picked up the shredded transfer papers.
“He needs my signature.”
“Yes.”
“So he needs me alive.”
Christopher frowned.
“That doesn’t make you safe.”
“I didn’t say it did.”
I looked toward the dark monitor.
“But it gives me something he wants.”
Caleb understood.
“Leverage.”
“Yes.”
I took the revolver from my coat.
My hand trembled.
“But this time, I’m using it.”
We left the archive room.
Christopher led us through a maintenance corridor.
The red emergency lights made everything look like blood.
At the far end, he opened a rusted metal door.
Stairs descended underground.
The tunnel smelled wet and cold.
“Stay close.”
We moved quickly.
After fifty yards, the tunnel split.
Christopher stopped.
“That’s new.”
“What?”
He shone his flashlight ahead.
A steel gate blocked one passage.
The other remained open.
Caleb examined the lock.
“Recently installed.”
My stomach tightened.
“He knows.”
Christopher nodded.
“Maybe.”
We took the open passage.
Twenty steps later, the door behind us slammed shut.
I spun.
Metal locks clicked.
Caleb swore.
Speakers crackled overhead.
Michael’s voice echoed through the tunnel.
“Christopher.”
He sounded almost disappointed.
“You really thought I forgot the escape route?”
Christopher raised his gun.
“Show yourself.”
“I will.”
A series of lights switched on ahead of us.
One after another.
Leading deeper underground.
Like an invitation.
“Come find your family, Emily.”
I whispered,
“He wants us down there.”
Caleb said,
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“Then that’s where we’re going.”
The corridor opened into a massive underground room.
Rows of old medical equipment lined the walls.
Most had been covered with sheets.
At the center stood a glass enclosure.
Inside were two chairs.
Mom sat in one.
Grandpa in the other.
Alive.
I ran toward them.
“Mom!”
She lifted her head.
“Emily!”
Grandpa shouted,
“STOP!”
I froze.
There was a thin red beam across the floor.
Then another.
Then dozens.
Lasers.
Caleb grabbed me from behind.
“Don’t move.”
I stared.
The beams formed a grid around the glass enclosure.
Michael’s voice came through the speakers.
“Very good.”
A door opened on the far side of the room.
Michael walked in.
Alone.
No gun visible.
He held a folder.
“Let them go.”
He smiled.
“Sign.”
“No.”
“Then they stay.”
“You no longer have Nora.”
His smile faded slightly.
“But I have Margaret.”
Mom shouted,
“Emily, don’t sign!”
Michael glanced at her.
“And Thomas.”
Grandpa said,
“Burn the papers.”
Michael looked back at me.
“And Caleb.”
I turned.
A red dot appeared on Caleb’s chest.
Sniper.
He froze.
Another appeared on Christopher.
Michael smiled.
“You see?”
“I never arrive alone.”
I looked around.
Hidden shooters.
Cameras.
Exits.
I forced myself to breathe.
“What exactly happens if I sign?”
Michael opened the folder.
“You transfer controlling authority to me.”
“And the trust?”
“Remains intact.”
“Nora?”
“Untouched.”
“Caleb?”
“Free.”
“Mom and Grandpa?”
“Free.”
Christopher laughed.
“You’re lying.”
Michael looked at him.
“Possibly.”
I stared at the documents.
Then at Mom.
Then Grandpa.
Then Caleb.
Twenty-seven years of people deciding what I should know.
Where I should go.
Who I should trust.
What I should believe.
No more.
“Fine.”
Caleb looked at me.
“Emily.”
“I’ll sign.”
Mom screamed.
“No!”
Michael smiled.
“Wise.”
“But I want proof first.”
“Of?”
“That you are Michael Bennett.”
His smile vanished.
“What?”
“Anyone can claim a name.”
“I showed you the family tree.”
“Made by your people.”
“I have records.”
“Also yours.”
Michael narrowed his eyes.
“What proof would satisfy you?”
I looked at my mother.
“Her answer.”
Michael frowned.
“Answer to what?”
I remembered Mom’s tape.
Do not trust Christopher until he answers the question I taught you.
The answer is beneath the place where you first opened your eyes.
Maybe it hadn’t been about Christopher.
Maybe it had been about everyone.
“Mom.”
She looked at me.
“What did you hide beneath the place where I first opened my eyes?”
Michael’s face changed.
Mom went very still.
Grandpa looked at her.
“Margaret?”
She whispered,
“Emily.”
“What is the answer?”
Michael stepped toward me.
“This is irrelevant.”
I raised the revolver.
“Stay there.”
A red dot appeared on my chest.
Michael smiled.
“Put the gun down.”
I ignored him.
“Mom.”
She began crying.
“The bluebird.”
Michael froze.
Christopher inhaled sharply.
I looked at him.
“What?”
Mom said louder,
“The bluebird.”
Michael’s face had lost all color.
Caleb whispered,
“He knows what it means.”
I looked toward Michael.
“Don’t you?”
He said nothing.
“What’s the bluebird?”
Mom stared directly at me.
“Your real birth record.”
Silence.
“What?”
“I hid it beneath the floorboards of Room 217.”
The room where we found the tape.
“The official certificate was fake.”
“I know.”
“No, Emily.”
She shook her head.
“The one you saw in Thomas’s box was fake too.”
My stomach dropped.
I looked at Grandpa.
He stared at her.
“You told me it was real.”
“I had to.”
“What does the real one say?”
Mom looked at Michael.
Then at me.
And whispered,
“It says your father died three years before you were born.”
Nobody moved.
I felt dizzy.
“That’s impossible.”
“Yes.”
“Then how—”
Mom shut her eyes.
“You weren’t conceived naturally.”
The room went silent.
Michael shouted,
“Enough!”
That was all the confirmation I needed.
I turned toward him.
“You’re not my father.”
His jaw tightened.
“No.”
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“Then who was Michael Bennett?”
Grandpa stared at the man.
His eyes widened.
“You’re not Michael.”
The man smiled.
Slowly.
Coldly.
“No.”
Christopher whispered,
“Daniel.”
My blood froze.
The man turned toward him.
For the first time, there was no smile.
Christopher’s voice broke.
“Daniel?”
The older man spread his hands.
“Hello, brother.”
Caleb staggered backward.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Caleb?”
He stared at the man.
“My father.”
Everything clicked at once.
Daniel Mercer.
The adopted brother Mom erased.
The man she feared.
The man who built Bellweather.
The man who sent Caleb to find me.
He had been standing in front of us the entire time under Michael Bennett’s name.
I raised the gun.
“You killed my parents.”
Daniel smiled.
“One of them.”
Mom screamed.
“You murdered her father!”
My heart shattered.
The man who raised me.
Dad.
Daniel looked at me.
“He became inconvenient.”
I pulled the trigger.
The shot exploded through the room.
Everyone screamed.
Daniel jerked sideways.
The bullet struck his shoulder.
At the same moment, the red dots disappeared.
Caleb tackled me.
Gunfire erupted from above.
Glass shattered.
Christopher fired toward the catwalk.
Grandpa shouted something.
Mom screamed my name.
Alarms began blaring.
A sprinkler burst overhead.
Water rained down.
“MOVE!”
Caleb dragged me behind a steel cabinet.
Christopher fired again.
One hidden shooter fell from the platform.
Daniel crawled toward the far door.
“Don’t let him leave!”
I ran after him.
Caleb shouted,
“Emily!”
I crossed the laser grid.
Nothing happened.
The beams had shut off with the alarms.
I reached the glass enclosure.
“Mom!”
She pressed her hands against the glass.
“Emily!”
Grandpa pointed.
“Control panel!”
I found the release.
Locked.
Christopher fired into it.
Sparks exploded.
The door popped open.
I yanked it aside.
Mom stumbled out.
I caught her.
For the first time in twenty years, my mother was in my arms.
She smelled like antiseptic and dust.
Not like the perfume I remembered.
But it didn’t matter.
“Mom.”
She held my face.
“My baby.”
I started crying.
“So much happened.”
“I know.”
“You left me.”
“I know.”
“I hated you for being dead.”
She broke.
“I know.”
Grandpa stumbled toward us.
“Emotional reunion later.”
He pointed toward the far end.
“Daniel’s escaping.”
Caleb was already running.
Christopher followed.
I helped Mom toward Grandpa.
“Stay with him.”
“No.”
“Mom.”
“There is something you don’t know.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“Daniel isn’t trying to escape.”
“Then where is he going?”
Her face filled with terror.
“The nursery.”
My stomach dropped.
“What nursery?”
“Below us.”
I thought of Bellweather.
Children.
Genetic research.
The trust.
The succession.
“Nora isn’t here.”
Mom grabbed my wrist.
“Not Nora.”
“Then what?”
She whispered,
“The others.”
I stared at her.
“What others?”
Daniel’s voice suddenly came over the speakers.
Weak.
Breathless.
But laughing.
“You should have signed, Emily.”
A steel door at the far end began descending.
Caleb reached it first.
He slid underneath.
Christopher followed.
I ran.
“Emily, no!” Mom shouted.
I dove beneath just before it slammed shut.
We were in another corridor.
Daniel’s blood marked the floor.
Caleb followed the trail.
“He’s losing a lot.”
Christopher looked grim.
“Not enough.”
We reached an elevator.
The doors stood open.
Only one button.
B4.
Caleb pressed it.
The elevator descended.
One floor.
Two.
Three.
Four.
When the doors opened, I understood what my mother meant.
A long sterile hallway stretched ahead.
Unlike the abandoned building above, this level was spotless.
Bright.
Modern.
Running.
Rooms lined both sides.
Behind glass windows were beds.
Cribs.
Medical equipment.
Computers.
“This place is active.”
Christopher looked horrified.
“He never shut Bellweather down.”
Caleb walked to the nearest room.
Inside was a young woman asleep beneath monitors.
A number was printed on the glass.
S-42.
Another room.
A teenage boy.
M-51.
Another.
A small child.
L-63.
My stomach turned.
“What is this?”
Caleb’s face hardened.
“The project.”
“Still running.”
Christopher whispered,
“For decades.”
A door slammed farther ahead.
Daniel.
We ran.
His blood trail led toward a vault.
The door was open.
Inside were shelves of records.
And one hospital bassinet.
Empty.
I stopped.
“Why is there a bassinet?”
Caleb picked up a folder beside it.
His face went white.
“What?”
He wouldn’t answer.
“Caleb.”
He handed it to me.
On the front:
SUBJECT N-64.
NORA BENNETT-MERCER.
I couldn’t feel my hands.
“No.”
The file contained my hospital information.
Nora’s birth weight.
Blood type.
Eye color.
Medical complications.
Everything.
Then one line:
SAMPLE ACQUIRED.
I felt sick.
“What sample?”
Christopher flipped through.
“Umbilical blood.”
Caleb slammed the folder shut.
“They took it at the hospital.”
I thought of Michael—Daniel—saying several hospital staff had been influenced.
“They already have Nora’s DNA.”
“Yes.”
I looked at the empty bassinet.
“Then why is this here?”
Nobody answered.
A door behind us locked.
We spun.
Daniel stood outside the vault.
Blood soaked his shirt.
He held a detonator.
Caleb raised his gun.
“Dad.”
Daniel laughed.
“Still calling me that?”
“Put it down.”
“No.”
“What did you do with Nora’s blood?”
Daniel looked at me.
“What Bellweather was always meant to do.”
“What?”
“Confirm succession.”
“You already knew she was mine.”
“I needed proof.”
“Now you have it.”
“Yes.”
“Then this ends.”
Daniel smiled.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Nora isn’t the second keyholder.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“She is the third.”
Caleb stared.
“Third?”
Daniel’s smile widened.
“You never found the second.”
Christopher went still.
“What did you say?”
Daniel looked at him.
“Oh, Christopher.”
“You really never knew?”
Christopher’s gun lowered slightly.
“Knew what?”
Daniel glanced at me.
“Your mother had another baby.”
My heart stopped.
“No.”
“Before you.”
“No.”
Mom had never said anything.
Daniel continued.
“A boy.”
Caleb whispered,
“When?”
“Three years before Emily.”
Christopher’s face changed.
“The child they said died.”
Daniel smiled.
“Exactly.”
I remembered Grandpa.
Mom had told him her baby died.
But that was when she was pregnant with me.
Was there another pregnancy?
Another secret?
“Where is he?”
Daniel looked at Caleb.
Then he began laughing.
My skin turned cold.
“No.”
Caleb stared at him.
“What?”
Daniel pointed at Caleb.
“The second keyholder has been standing beside her this entire night.”
I looked at Caleb.
He shook his head.
“No.”
Daniel smiled.
“Margaret gave birth to you.”
Silence.
Caleb backed away.
“No.”
“Your biological mother isn’t who you think she is.”
“No.”
“You’re Margaret’s son.”
I stared at him.
Then Caleb.
Then Christopher.
My stomach twisted.
“If Caleb is Mom’s son…”
Daniel nodded.
“Yes.”
My voice cracked.
“Then he’s my brother.”
Caleb stumbled backward like he had been struck.
“No.”
Daniel laughed.
And suddenly the eleven months I had spent loving Caleb became something monstrous.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t think.
Nora.
My daughter.
Our daughter.
Caleb stared at me in horror.
“Emily, I didn’t know.”
I backed away from him.
“Don’t touch me.”
“I swear.”
“DON’T TOUCH ME!”
Daniel was laughing harder now.
Then a voice came from behind him.
“That’s enough.”
Mom stood at the end of the hallway.
Grandpa beside her.
She held Christopher’s spare gun.
Daniel turned.
Mom aimed it directly at him.
“You always did enjoy the cruelest version of the truth.”
Daniel smiled.
“Margaret.”
She looked at Caleb.
Then at me.
“Caleb is not your brother.”
Daniel’s smile vanished.
Caleb stared at her.
“What?”
Mom stepped closer.
“I gave birth to a son three years before Emily.”
My heart raced.
“But that child wasn’t Caleb.”
Daniel raised the detonator.
“Don’t.”
Mom ignored him.
“He was taken from me.”
“Who?”
She looked directly at Christopher.
Christopher stopped breathing.
Mom whispered,
“Your son.”
Christopher’s face collapsed.
“My son?”
She nodded.
Daniel shouted,
“SHUT UP!”
Mom continued.
“The child Christopher was told died.”
I looked at Christopher.
Then at Caleb.
Daniel pressed his thumb against the detonator.
“Margaret!”
She raised her gun.
“Do it.”
Daniel froze.
“You destroy this level, you destroy the records.”
“I don’t care.”
“You do.”
“No.”
Her eyes hardened.
“Not anymore.”
Daniel smiled.
“You should.”
“Why?”
“Because the second keyholder is still alive.”
Mom stopped.
Daniel looked at me.
“And he’s already on his way to Nora.”
My blood turned to ice.
“What?”
Daniel lifted his phone.
A live video filled the screen.
Aunt Ruth’s house.
The front door open.
Ruth lying on the floor.
Moving, but hurt.
And a man carrying Nora’s blanket through the doorway.
I screamed.
“NORA!”
The camera zoomed.
The man turned slightly.
I could not see his face.
Only the back of his head.
Dark hair.
Tall.
Then he looked toward the camera.
Mom dropped the gun.
Grandpa whispered,
“Oh my God.”
Christopher stared in disbelief.
Because the man holding my daughter had a face almost identical to Caleb’s.
Not similar.
Identical.
Daniel smiled through the blood on his teeth.
“Meet the child Margaret buried twenty-nine years ago.”
The stranger looked directly into the camera.
Nora crying in his arms.
And Daniel whispered:
“Emily… that is your real brother.”
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