Chapter 5: The Boy Who Called Me Dad
The darkness swallowed the basement.
For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything except my own breathing.
Then the child's voice came again.
“Dad?”
I stumbled backward.
“Who are you?”
No answer.
I reached for my phone and turned on the flashlight.
The beam swept across the basement.
Empty.
The speaker above me crackled.
“Please... don't let them find me.”
I stared at it.
“Where are you?”
“I'm not in the basement.”
My blood ran cold.
“Then where?”
A pause.
“Somewhere your father hid me.”
I looked around.
“What is your name?”
The boy didn't answer immediately.
Then he whispered,
“Lucas.”
The name hit me strangely.
Not because I recognized it.
Because I remembered Claire once mentioning it.
Years ago.
I had asked her about a childhood friend.
She had gone silent.
Then she had said:
“Lucas was someone I lost a long time ago.”
I had never asked again.
Now a boy was calling me Dad from my father's hidden clinic.
I ran to the steel door.
“Lucas, who locked me in here?”
Silence.
Then:
“My grandmother.”
I froze.
“Which grandmother?”
“My mom's.”
My chest tightened.
“Evelyn?”
The boy stopped talking.
That was answer enough.
I grabbed the door handle.
“Lucas, listen to me. Your grandmother is dangerous.”
“No.”
His voice became frightened.
“She says you're dangerous.”
I stopped.
“Who told you that?”
“She did.”
“Lucas, she lied to you.”
The speaker went silent.
Then another voice came through.
An adult.
Male.
“You shouldn't have come here, Daniel.”
I recognized it immediately.
Nathan.
“You.”
“Yes.”
“Where is the boy?”
“You're asking the wrong question again.”
I slammed my fist against the door.
“Open this door!”
“You don't understand what you're dealing with.”
“I don't care.”
“You will.”
A metallic sound echoed through the basement.
Gas began hissing from a vent near the ceiling.
I froze.
“Nathan!”
He didn't answer.
“Open the door!”
Nothing.
The gas thickened.
I covered my mouth with my shirt.
My vision began to blur.
I searched frantically for another exit.
Then I remembered the floor plan.
My father had built the clinic with an emergency passage.
The same passage my mother had used to help me escape the study.
I ran toward the back wall.
There was a bookshelf.
I pushed it.
Nothing.
I pushed harder.
Still nothing.
The gas was getting stronger.
I dropped to my knees.
My lungs burned.
Then I noticed a small metal plate beneath the shelf.
Three letters were engraved on it.
D.P.
My initials.
I pressed it.
A section of the wall clicked.
I pulled.
A narrow opening appeared.
Fresh air rushed through.
I crawled inside.
Behind me, the basement filled with white gas.
I shut the passage.
Then collapsed.
I don't know how long I lay there.
When I opened my eyes, I was outside.
Rain was falling.
My phone was beside me.
Twenty-three missed calls.
All from the hospital.
I called immediately.
A nurse answered.
“Mr. Parker?”
“What happened?”
“You need to come back immediately.”
“Claire?”
“She woke up.”
My heart jumped.
“Is she okay?”
“She asked for you.”
I drove like a madman.
When I reached the hospital, two police officers were standing outside Claire's room.
One of them stopped me.
“Mr. Parker, we need to speak with you.”
“Later.”
“This is important.”
“My wife is awake.”
The officer looked at his partner.
Then stepped aside.
I entered.
Claire was sitting upright.
Weak.
Pale.
But conscious.
Her eyes met mine.
She started crying.
“You found it.”
I sat beside her.
“I found the clinic.”
Her face changed.
“Did you see him?”
“Lucas?”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
She began trembling.
“Your father took him from me.”
“Why?”
“Because he was trying to save him.”
“From whom?”
She looked toward the door.
“From his father.”
I leaned closer.
“Who is his father?”
Claire hesitated.
Then whispered,
“Nathan.”
My entire body went numb.
I pulled away.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“But Nathan said—”
“He lied.”
“Why would Dad take your child?”
“Because Nathan wanted him dead.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
Claire wiped her tears.
“Lucas was born eight years ago.”
She took a shaky breath.
“Nathan believed the baby carried evidence of what he had done.”
“What evidence?”
Claire looked directly at me.
“Your father had discovered Nathan was stealing from the company.”
I nodded.
“That part I know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You don't know the worst part.”
She reached beneath her pillow.
Her fingers trembled as she pulled out a small envelope.
“I kept this for eight years.”
She handed it to me.
The envelope had my father's handwriting.
I opened it.
Inside was a DNA report.
My eyes moved across the page.
The father of Lucas was Nathan Parker.
The mother was Claire Bennett.
But the final line stopped me.
The biological father is not the only genetic match.
I read it again.
Then looked at Claire.
“What does this mean?”
She whispered,
“It means Lucas isn't just Nathan's son.”
I felt my pulse racing.
“Then whose son is he?”
Claire stared at me.
“Your father's.”
I couldn't speak.
She continued.
“Your father was Nathan's biological father.”
I shook my head.
“That makes no sense.”
“He had another son.”
My stomach dropped.
“Another son?”
Claire nodded.
“Your father had a child before he married your mother.”
“Who?”
She pointed toward the door.
At that exact moment, the door opened.
Nathan stepped inside.
He was holding a gun.
Claire screamed.
Nathan locked the door behind him.
He looked at me.
Then at Claire.
“I'm sorry.”
I stood between him and my wife.
“You're not touching her.”
Nathan raised the gun.
“I don't want to hurt either of you.”
“Then put it down.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“Because if Lucas is still alive, we're all dead.”
Claire whispered,
“Where is he?”
Nathan looked at her.
“You shouldn't have survived.”
I stepped forward.
“What did you do to my wife?”
Nathan's face crumpled.
“I didn't put her in the coffin.”
“Who did?”
He looked at the hallway camera.
Then whispered,
“Mom.”
I felt a cold wave pass through me.
“Nathan...”
“She ordered it.”
“Why?”
“Because Claire found the original birth records.”
“What records?”
Nathan's hands began shaking.
“The records proving who Lucas really is.”
Claire stared at him.
“Where is my son?”
Nathan looked at me.
Then said something that made my blood freeze.
“He isn't at the clinic anymore.”
“Where is he?”
Nathan lowered the gun.
“They took him tonight.”
“Who?”
He swallowed.
“The man your father was afraid of.”
I stepped closer.
“Name him.”
Nathan looked directly into my eyes.
“You.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He whispered,
“Your father didn't leave the child with you to protect him.”
“He left him with you because you were the only person that man couldn't reach.”
I shook my head.
“This makes no sense.”
Nathan suddenly looked terrified.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
Nobody spoke.
His face went white.
He slowly lowered the phone.
“What happened?”
He looked at Claire.
Then at me.
“Lucas is gone.”
Claire broke down.
I grabbed Nathan by the collar.
“Who took him?”
Nathan looked toward the window.
And whispered,
“The man standing outside.”
I turned.
A figure stood across the street.
Watching the hospital.
A man in a dark coat.
He slowly raised his hand.
In it was a photograph.
Even from that distance, I could see what it showed.
Lucas.
And beside him...
My father.
Alive.
The photograph was dated three days ago.
My father had supposedly been dead for two years.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A man's voice whispered:
“Daniel, if you want your son back, come alone.”
I froze.
“I know you're wondering how your father is still alive.”
A pause.
“He isn't.”
My heart pounded.
“Then who are you?”
The voice laughed quietly.
“You'll find out soon.”
The call ended.
I looked at the photograph again.
The man across the street was gone.
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And in the bottom corner of the photo, someone had written a single sentence:
Your father didn't die. Someone died in his place.
