Chapter 15 - The Child They Could Never Own
Declan woke to the sound of a heartbeat.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
His eyes opened.
White ceiling.
Hospital.
A nurse stood beside him.
“Where is Amelia?”
The nurse smiled.
“She made it.”
Declan exhaled.
Then he heard a baby crying.
His eyes widened.
“No.”
The nurse moved aside.
Amelia stood in the doorway.
Pale.
Exhausted.
Alive.
And holding a tiny bundle.
Declan couldn't speak.
“What happened?”
Amelia smiled through tears.
“You missed the birth.”
He stared.
“The baby?”
“A girl.”
His face collapsed.
“A girl?”
Amelia nodded.
“She's healthy.”
Declan began to cry.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Just one broken breath.
He reached out.
Amelia approached.
She placed the baby in his arms.
Declan looked down.
The tiny girl opened her eyes.
Dark eyes.
His eyes.
Amelia watched him.
“Her name?”
Declan looked at her.
“She needs one.”
Amelia smiled.
“Clara.”
“Clara Voss?”
Amelia hesitated.
Then shook her head.
“Clara Mason.”
Declan looked surprised.
“Not Voss?”
“She's a child before she's a bloodline.”
He nodded.
“Clara Mason.”
He kissed his daughter's forehead.
Behind them, the hospital door opened.
Gavin entered.
“It’s over.”
Declan looked up.
“Anthony?”
“Dead.”
“Matthew?”
“Alive.”
“Savannah?”
“Gone.”
Amelia frowned.
“Gone where?”
Gavin placed a folder on the table.
“She disappeared three hours ago.”
Declan opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Savannah standing at an airport.
Beside her was an older man.
Declan's eyes narrowed.
“That's Victor.”
Gavin nodded.
“They escaped together.”
Amelia looked at the folder.
“So it isn't over.”
“No,” Gavin said.
Declan closed the file.
Then another document slipped out.
A page.
Old.
Yellowed.
Signed by Anthony Voss.
The final line read:
THE FIRST HEIR WAS NEVER MATTHEW.
Declan looked at Amelia.
“What does that mean?”
She slowly turned the page.
There was another name.
Not Declan.
Not Matthew.
Not Amelia.
Not Clara.
A woman.
A name neither of them had ever seen.
Beneath the name was a photograph.
And the woman in the photograph had Amelia's eyes.
Amelia's face went white.
“That's my mother.”
Declan shook his head.
“No.”
The woman was younger.
But unmistakably related.
Amelia stared at the date.
Her mother had been born in 1987.
“That can't be her.”
Gavin leaned closer.
Then his phone rang.
He listened.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He turned toward Declan.
“They found Victor.”
“Where?”
Gavin swallowed.
“Chicago cemetery.”
Declan stood.
“Alive?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“He was buried two years ago.”
Silence.
Amelia stared at him.
Declan looked down at Clara.
Then at the photograph.
The same eyes.
The same blood.
The same impossible family history.
And suddenly, his entire understanding of the Voss dynasty collapsed.
Because Anthony Voss had been dead.
Victor Voss had been buried.
Matthew had supposedly died.
Savannah had disappeared.
And yet someone had been running the empire.
Someone who had been watching Amelia before she ever met Declan.
Someone who knew about Clara before the first ultrasound.
Someone who had arranged the engagement.
Someone who had ordered the search.
Someone who had known the exact words Declan would say.
The hospital lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then every screen in the hallway came alive.
A woman's face appeared.
Older.
Elegant.
Calm.
She looked directly into the camera.
Directly at Amelia.
And smiled.
“Hello, Amelia.”
Amelia's hands tightened around Clara.
The woman spoke again.
“You've been hiding my granddaughter.”
Declan stepped in front of Amelia.
The woman smiled wider.
“Don't worry, Declan.”
She lifted a glass of wine.
“I don't want the baby.”
A pause.
“I want you.”
The screen went black.
And for the first time since the night Amelia burned the ultrasound photograph, she understood the truth.
Declan had never been the most dangerous person in Chicago.
He had only been the man standing between her family and the woman who had been waiting for her to come home.
The baby in Amelia's arms began to cry.
Outside, sirens screamed through the city.
And somewhere in the darkness, a phone started ringing.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The screen lit up with a single name.
UNKNOWN.
Amelia looked at Declan.
He looked back at her.
Neither touched the phone.
Then Clara stopped crying.
Her tiny hand curled around Amelia's finger.
And the call ended.
A second later, a message appeared.
YOU HAVE UNTIL MIDNIGHT TO BRING ME THE HEIR.
May you like
Below it was one final sentence.
OR I BURY THE CITY WITH HER.
