Chapter 12 - The Sixth SonThe child nobody was supposed to know existedWe escaped the warehouse by blowing through the rear loading dock.
The boys were safe.
Sloane was bleeding again.
Elena was barely speaking.
But I couldn't stop thinking about the video.
A sixth son.
Older.
Alive.
Hidden.
My son.
We drove to a secure property in western Massachusetts.
The boys slept in adjoining rooms under guard.
At three in the morning, Elena finally told me the truth.
“The sixth was born nine months after the others.”
I stared at her.
“You were pregnant again?”
She nodded.
“How?”
She looked away.
“Victor.”
The word struck me.
“What does that mean?”
“He held me for weeks after I escaped the hospital.”
I felt something inside me snap.
“You're saying Victor…”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“He didn't father the child.”
“Then who?”
Elena looked at me.
“You.”
My breath caught.
“How?”
“Before you and I separated.”
She swallowed.
“There was a second pregnancy.”
I sat down.
“You knew?”
“I found out afterward.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Victor had taken the older five.”
She covered her face.
“I believed the sixth was dead too.”
“Then the video?”
“I don't know.”
A security alarm suddenly blared.
The doors locked automatically.
All lights went red.
I drew my gun.
“Where is he?”
Elena looked terrified.
“I don't know.”
My phone rang.
A young male voice answered.
“Dad.”
Every hair on my arms rose.
“Who are you?”
“You know.”
“Tell me where you are.”
“Not yet.”
“What do you want?”
“I want the truth.”
My jaw tightened.
“About what?”
“About why you abandoned my mother.”
I looked at Elena.
She began crying.
“I didn't abandon her.”
The boy laughed bitterly.
“That's what she told me.”
“What's your name?”
A pause.
“Roman.”
The call ended.
I searched the property.
Nothing.
Then one of the guards screamed.
I ran upstairs.
The boys were still asleep.
Except Gabriel.
He was standing in the hallway.
Holding a photograph.
“Daddy,” he whispered.
“What is it?”
He handed it to me.
The picture showed me and Elena six years ago.
Pregnant.
But someone had written a date across the bottom.
Three months before the boys were born.
On the back was a message.
ROMAN WAS BORN FIRST.
I stared at the photograph.
That couldn't be true.
The timeline was impossible.
Unless…
I looked at Elena.
She was pale.
“Roman was never the sixth.”
Her voice shook.
“He was the first.”
My stomach turned.
She pointed toward the sleeping boys.
“The four boys were never quintuplets.”
I felt cold.
“Then what are they?”
May you like
She whispered:
“Clones.”
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