Chapter 6 - Beneath the HouseThe staircase smelled of dust, rust, and something medicinal.

I went down first.

Claire followed.

Evelyn stayed upstairs with Detective Reeves.

At the bottom was a metal door.

No handle.

Only a keypad.

I stared at it.

“What’s the code?”

Claire shook her head.

Then I remembered something.

My father had taught me a sequence when I was sixteen.

“Four-seven-one-nine.”

I entered it.

The door clicked open.

Inside were shelves.

Boxes.

Hard drives.

Paper files.

Photographs.

Hundreds of them.

Children.

Names.

Birth dates.

Medical records.

Transfer numbers.

I stood frozen.

“This is an archive.”

Claire looked sick.

“No.”

“What?”

“It’s a registry.”

“A registry of what?”

“Children.”

We began opening boxes.

Some names had been crossed out.

Others had numbers instead of names.

One folder contained the name Noah.

I pulled it out.

The file was thick.

Too thick for a newborn.

Inside were medical records from the day he was born.

But the final page was missing.

Claire whispered:

“Someone removed it.”

I found a second envelope.

Inside was a DNA report.

I read the first line.

Biological father: Julian Voss.

My knees nearly gave out.

Evelyn had told me.

She had never lied about that.

I opened the next document.

Biological mother: Evelyn Hart.

Our child was alive.

Or had been.

Then I found another page.

Current guardian: V. Mercer.

Victor Mercer.

I kept searching.

Then a photograph fell out.

A little boy.

Maybe two years old.

Dark hair.

Brown eyes.

Standing beside a woman.

I looked at the face.

My chest tightened.

The boy had my eyes.

I turned the photo over.

NOAH. AGE 2.

“Where did you get this?”

Claire stepped closer.

“That's him.”

My hands shook.

The woman beside him had her face blurred.

But the bracelet on the boy's wrist was the same one from the hospital photograph.

I turned back to the file.

A final notation had been written in red ink.

DO NOT ALLOW JULIAN VOSS TO MEET SUBJECT.

I heard footsteps upstairs.

Heavy.

Fast.

Claire looked at me.

“Someone is here.”

We shut the cabinet.

The staircase creaked.

I reached for the door.

Then I heard my mother’s voice.

“Julian!”

She was shouting.

“Come upstairs!”

Something in her voice sounded wrong.

We ran.

At the top of the stairs, my mother stood beside Evelyn.

But Detective Reeves was gone.

“Where is the detective?”

My mother said:

“He left.”

“Why?”

She didn't answer.

I looked at Evelyn.

Her face was terrified.

“What happened?”

She whispered:

“Someone called him.”

“Who?”

She swallowed.

“He said the baby's medical records had been falsified.”

“Whose records?”

“Mine.”

Then the lights flickered.

My phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

One message.

A photo.

Noah.

Alive.

And standing beside a hospital bed.

In that hospital bed was a pregnant woman.

I stared at the screen.

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