Chapter 18 - The Son They HidThe room went silent.
Lucas stared at the report.
“No.”
I held it higher.
“Your genetic profile doesn't match Ethan's.”
“That proves nothing.”
“It proves everything.”
Ethan looked at me.
“How did you get it?”
I looked down.
“Your father.”
I hadn't told anyone.
Two weeks before our anniversary, I had discovered a box in Ethan's father's study.
Inside were medical records.
Twin records.
Birth records.
And a DNA comparison.
I had quietly copied them.
I hadn't understood the significance then.
Now I did.
Lucas was the replacement.
Ethan was the original.
Martin stepped into the room.
“You don't know what you're talking about.”
“You created a fake Ethan.”
“No.”
“You erased his birth records.”
“No.”
“You raised Lucas to replace him.”
Martin's face hardened.
“You have no idea what you're dealing with.”
“I do.”
I turned toward the cameras.
“This is Martin Hale.”
He stared.
“Don't.”
“Responsible for Project Northstar.”
“Stop.”
“Responsible for the disappearance of Margaret Bennett.”
My mother looked at him.
“You're the one.”
Martin smiled.
“Your mother has been lying to you.”
My mother stepped forward.
“No.”
Martin's eyes changed.
“Tell her.”
Silence.
I looked at my mother.
“Tell me what?”
She closed her eyes.
“Your father didn't order my kidnapping.”
I turned.
“What?”
“He tried to stop it.”
My father entered the room.
Alive.
He walked toward us.
“I was too late.”
My mother looked at him.
“We both were.”
I realized there had been another lie.
The largest one.
My father hadn't betrayed my mother.
He had tried to save her.
The man who had orchestrated everything was Martin.
But then Martin laughed.
“You really believe that?”
He pulled out a folder.
Inside was a photograph.
My father.
Standing beside Martin.
And behind them was Ethan.
Not twenty-one.
Ten years old.
The date was impossible.
It was sixteen years before I met him.
Martin pointed at the photograph.
“Ask your father why Ethan was in my custody.”
I looked at my father.
He didn't answer.
I turned to Ethan.
“What happened?”
He looked at the photo.
“I don't remember.”
Martin smiled.
“Of course you don't.”
He pressed a button.
A recording played.
A child crying.
A man's voice.
“What's your name?”
The child whispered:
“Ethan.”
“Good.”
Another voice:
“Where's your brother?”
The child answered:
“Lucas.”
I looked at Ethan.
He covered his face.
“Stop.”
But the recording continued.
The adult voice said:
“One of you stays.”
A child screamed.
“I want my brother!”
Martin switched it off.
I felt sick.
“What did you do to them?”
He smiled.
“We taught them obedience.”
My mother whispered:
“You monster.”
Martin raised the gun.
“This is over.”
He pointed at me.
“Hand me the ledger.”
I looked at the files.
Then at Ethan.
Then at my mother.
I raised my hands.
“Okay.”
I walked toward him.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Then I dropped the ledger.
Martin lunged.
And Ethan moved.
He tackled Martin.
A gunshot.
Glass shattered.
Police stormed the room.
Lucas ran.
Vanessa blocked the door.
He stopped.
They looked at each other.
For a second, she hesitated.
Then she whispered:
“You were never my enemy.”
Lucas lowered his weapon.
And surrendered.
Martin was arrested.
The tower fell silent.
For the first time in years, no one was running.
No one was lying.
Or so I thought.
Because when I returned home that night, I found one final envelope on my pillow.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed Ethan and me.
Taken three days before our wedding.
May you like
On the back were eight words:
You married the wrong man on purpose.
