Chapter 2 - The Spare KeyMy mother stared at us.
Then at the phone in my hand.
Her face changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
“You read it.”
I stood slowly.
“What did you mean when you said the baby wasn’t safe?”
She said nothing.
“Mom.”
Still nothing.
Evelyn gripped the blanket.
My mother finally whispered:
“She was never supposed to show you that.”
My stomach tightened.
“Show me what?”
She looked at Evelyn.
“You promised.”
Evelyn’s face went pale.
“You promised you would never tell him.”
I turned toward my wife.
“What promise?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“I didn’t promise anything.”
My mother stepped inside and locked the door behind her.
That tiny click sounded louder than a gunshot.
“You need to listen to me, Julian.”
“No. You need to answer me.”
She lifted her hand.
“I know what happened three years ago.”
My mind raced.
Three years.
That was the year I met Evelyn.
The year she entered my life.
The year she claimed she had been working in San Francisco.
The year my mother suddenly became obsessed with checking Evelyn’s background.
I had always assumed she disliked her because Evelyn came from a different world.
But maybe that wasn’t the reason.
“What happened three years ago?”
My mother looked at Evelyn.
Evelyn whispered:
“Tell him.”
My mother sat down.
“There was a woman.”
“What woman?”
“Her name was Claire Mercer.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
My mother continued.
“Claire worked at the private clinic where Evelyn had her first pregnancy consultation.”
My heart stopped.
“First pregnancy?”
Evelyn stared at the floor.
“You were pregnant before?”
She nodded.
“I miscarried.”
I felt numb.
My mother looked at me.
“She didn’t miscarry.”
Silence.
The room seemed to tilt.
I turned toward Evelyn.
She was crying.
“Julian…”
“Tell me.”
She pressed both hands over her face.
My mother said, “Your wife was carrying a baby three years ago.”
I stared at her.
“Then what happened?”
My mother’s voice dropped.
“The baby disappeared.”
I couldn’t understand the words.
“Babies don’t disappear.”
“This one did.”
Evelyn suddenly stood.
“Enough.”
My mother rose too.
“You still have to tell him.”
Evelyn looked at her.
“No.”
My mother smiled.
That smile terrified me more than her screaming ever had.
“Then I will.”
I stepped between them.
“You will tell me everything.”
My mother reached into her purse.
She pulled out a photograph.
She handed it to me.
It showed Evelyn outside a hospital.
Pregnant.
Younger.
Standing beside a woman I had never seen before.
I flipped the picture over.
There was handwriting on the back.
June 19. She signed the transfer papers.
“Transfer papers?” I whispered.
My mother nodded.
“She gave up the baby.”
Evelyn gasped.
“That’s a lie!”
My mother looked at me.
“Ask your wife where the child went.”
Evelyn backed away.
I followed her with my eyes.
“Where did the baby go?”
She whispered:
“I don’t know.”
My mother laughed softly.
“Yes, you do.”
Then she reached into her purse again.
This time she pulled out a small envelope.
She tossed it onto the table.
My name was written across the front.
Not in my mother’s handwriting.
In Evelyn’s.
I opened it.
Inside was a single hospital bracelet.
Tiny.
White.
On it was a name.
Not mine.
Not Evelyn’s.
A third surname.
The same surname I had seen on the photograph.
MERCER.
My mother leaned closer.
“Now you understand why I told you she was dangerous.”
I turned toward Evelyn.
“What did you do?”
Her lips trembled.
“I didn't sell our baby.”
“Then who did?”
She looked directly at my mother.
“You did.”
My mother’s expression disappeared.
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For the first time that night, she looked genuinely frightened.
And then someone knocked three times on the front door.
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