Chapter 3 - The Man Who Lied to Chicago
Declan received the message while standing in a private hangar.
Gavin watched his expression.
“She was found?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Declan looked at the phone.
Then at the coordinates.
“Gas station. Hendersonville.”
Gavin reached for his coat.
“We go now.”
Declan shook his head.
“No.”
Gavin frowned.
“Why?”
“Because whoever found her wants me to rush there.”
He handed over the phone.
Gavin studied the message.
“He could be Belladonna.”
“He could be Calloway.”
“Then what?”
Declan's eyes were cold.
“We find out who sent him.”
Three hours later, Amelia was in a motel room under another name.
She had rented it with cash.
She locked the door.
Then pushed a chair beneath the handle.
She sat on the bed and finally allowed herself to breathe.
The baby moved.
A faint flutter.
So slight she almost imagined it.
She placed her palm against her stomach.
“I'm sorry.”
Another flutter.
Amelia smiled through tears.
“I know.”
She looked at the room.
Cheap curtains.
A cracked mirror.
A mattress that smelled faintly of bleach.
It was ugly.
But it was hers.
No Voss Tower.
No marble walls.
No armed men outside.
No Declan.
She closed her eyes.
Then memories returned.
Declan sitting on the floor of her studio.
Declan holding a paintbrush.
Declan pretending to understand varnish chemistry.
Declan whispering against her hair, “Stay.”
Her eyes opened.
She hated that she still missed him.
A knock came at the door.
Amelia froze.
Three taps.
Then silence.
She reached for the lamp.
Another knock.
“Miss Mason?”
She didn't answer.
A woman's voice.
“I'm from the clinic.”
Amelia's heartbeat accelerated.
“I left your test results downstairs.”
“I don't need them.”
Silence.
Then the woman said something that made every nerve in Amelia's body tighten.
“You should.”
Amelia approached the door.
“Why?”
“Because one of your blood tests doesn't belong to the file we were given.”
Amelia opened the door only an inch.
The woman stood there alone.
Mid-fifties.
Gray hair.
Navy coat.
She held an envelope.
“My name is Eleanor Price.”
Amelia looked at the envelope.
“What is this?”
“Something you were never supposed to see.”
Eleanor slid it through the opening.
Amelia stared at her.
“Why are you helping me?”
“Because your doctor made a mistake fourteen weeks ago.”
“What mistake?”
“He sent the wrong prenatal record to a private laboratory.”
Amelia frowned.
“What does that have to do with me?”
Eleanor lowered her voice.
“Your pregnancy was flagged as high security.”
Amelia felt cold.
“Why?”
“Because your bloodwork matched a restricted genetic file.”
Amelia stared.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It will.”
Eleanor stepped back.
“Your child's father isn't the only dangerous man who knows your name.”
Before Amelia could ask another question, Eleanor walked away.
Amelia closed the door.
She opened the envelope.
Inside was a photocopy of an old laboratory report.
At the top was a red stamp:
VOSS FAMILY BIOLOGICAL ARCHIVE
Amelia's fingers trembled.
Her eyes moved down the page.
Then stopped.
The sample name was not Declan Voss.
It belonged to another man.
ANTHONY VOSS.
Declan's father.
Amelia stared at the paper.
Dead for nine years.
She turned the page.
A handwritten note was attached.
If the child is male, the bloodline survives.
Her stomach dropped.
Someone wanted her baby for a reason that had nothing to do with marriage.
May you like
And the next line was worse.
Do not allow Declan to know.
