Chapter 11 - The Original SonThe Truth Hidden in My Own Blood
We returned to the house before dawn.
I didn't tell the police.
Not yet.
Too many people connected to the story could already be compromised.
The library remained untouched.
At least on the surface.
I pulled every book from the shelf.
Behind them was the hidden mechanism.
The real wall.
I examined the masonry.
One brick looked newer.
I removed it.
Behind it was a narrow metal compartment.
Inside sat a cassette recorder.
An envelope.
And a blood-stained hospital bracelet.
The name made me stop.
DUCA, BABY BOY.
Date of birth.
The day I was born.
I turned to Marcus.
“This is mine.”
He looked stunned.
Then I saw the bracelet number.
I remembered something my mother used to say.
“You were sick when you were born.”
I nodded slowly.
My father had told me I was born prematurely.
That had always been the story.
But the bracelet contained the truth.
The surname was different.
Not Duca.
Vale.
Marcus stared.
“Your mother had a child registered under Elena's surname.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Why would the bracelet say Vale?”
Then the cassette recorder clicked.
A voice emerged.
My mother's voice.
Harriet.
“If you're hearing this, your father failed to erase the truth.”
I froze.
“You were never supposed to live in this house.”
Her breathing sounded shaky.
“Your father took you from Elena.”
I closed my eyes.
He had stolen me.
Not Daniel.
Me.
The photograph of Elena holding a baby.
The original son.
Me.
Daniel was her second child?
No.
My mother continued.
“Daniel is not your brother.”
My eyes opened.
The room went silent.
“He is Elena's nephew.”
Marcus whispered,
“What?”
The recording continued.
“Your father arranged the kidnapping of Elena's baby because he wanted the trust. But he made a mistake. He took the wrong child.”
I looked at Daniel.
He stared at me.
“My father took you,” Harriet said on the recording. “Then he tried to kill Elena's actual son.”
A slow understanding formed.
“Daniel isn't the heir.”
I whispered.
Daniel shook his head.
“I told you.”
My mother continued.
“The real heir is you.”
I sat down.
All my life I'd been fighting for control of an empire I thought belonged to me.
But I had never understood why my father favored Adrian.
Why my mother always feared him.
Why Elena had vanished.
Why the trust had been hidden.
The answer was simple.
I was the stolen child.
The rightful heir.
My father had taken me to keep the inheritance.
Then when he realized Elena had another way to reclaim me, he buried every record.
The cassette crackled.
One final message.
“Harriet, come upstairs.”
My father's voice.
The recording continued.
Then my mother's voice, whispering:
“If you hear footsteps, don't trust Adrian.”
A crash.
A scream.
Then the tape stopped.
I looked at the date.
The recording was made eleven years before my mother's death.
That meant she knew.
She had known who I was.
And she had spent years protecting me without ever telling me.
Then Grace entered the room.
Her face was white.
“What happened?”
I told her.
She stared at me.
Then whispered,
“Caleb found another tape.”
“Where?”
“In the wall.”
We searched for hours.
Eventually Mia pointed toward the fireplace.
“Three bricks.”
I removed them.
A second compartment appeared.
Inside was another recorder.
Caleb's final message.
He appeared on screen.
“This is for the real heir.”
He looked exhausted.
“You were born Elena's son.”
He paused.
“Your name was Daniel.”
I stared at the screen.
My breathing stopped.
Not Victor.
Not Adrian.
Not Daniel Mercer.
Daniel.
My name.
My stolen name.
Caleb continued.
“Your mother spent twenty-three years waiting for you.”
I looked at Elena.
She was watching me.
Tears ran down her face.
“I knew you would come back,” she whispered.
I couldn't speak.
The man I'd been calling Daniel stepped closer.
His expression was shattered.
“So my name isn't Daniel?”
“No.”
“Then who am I?”
Before I could answer, a sound came from the hallway.
The front door opened.
A voice called out.
“Daniel.”
Everyone froze.
Adrian.
He entered the library slowly.
He wasn't alone.
Vincent stood behind him.
And between them was a young woman holding a baby.
My baby sister's mother?
No.
The woman looked at Grace.
Grace began to cry.
“That's impossible.”
Adrian smiled.
“Not anymore.”
He pointed at the infant.
“Because this is the last piece of the family puzzle.”
The woman lifted the baby.
And I recognized her.
Elena stared in horror.
“Clara.”
May you like
The woman smiled.
“Hello, Mother.”
