Chapter 9 - The BloodlineRachel was on her knees.
Blood stained the sleeve of her coat.
Michael held the gun against her head.
“You should have stayed hidden,” he said.
David moved toward him.
Michael raised the weapon.
“Stop.”
David froze.
Michael looked at Ethan.
Then Oliver.
“That gene belongs to one of them.”
I stepped in front of the boys.
“You're not touching either child.”
Michael laughed.
“You still don't understand.”
“Then explain it.”
“The Bennett company was built on a patent.”
David frowned.
“What patent?”
“A medical technology developed before you were born.”
Michael gestured toward Ethan.
“The genetic mutation was discovered in our family decades ago.”
“So?”
“So whoever carries it can be used to authenticate ownership.”
David stared at him.
“You're saying the trust isn't based on blood.”
“Not entirely.”
Michael smiled.
“The gene is the real key.”
I looked at Ethan.
“What does this have to do with Oliver?”
Michael's smile disappeared.
“Everything.”
Rachel finally spoke.
“Michael is lying.”
He struck her.
I flinched.
“What gene?” David demanded.
Rachel looked at me.
“The mutation was originally found in two children.”
“Two?”
“Yes.”
She looked at Oliver.
“Twins.”
My entire body went cold.
“Twins?”
“No.”
Rachel nodded.
“You gave birth to twins.”
I felt the walls closing in.
“That's impossible.”
“One child was recorded.”
“The other?”
“Hidden.”
Ethan stared at her.
“Me?”
Rachel shook her head.
“No.”
She looked at Oliver.
“Him.”
Oliver stepped back.
I pulled him closer.
Michael smiled.
“Now you understand.”
I couldn't think.
Oliver.
The child I had raised.
The child everyone said wasn't biologically mine.
The child who was supposedly unrelated to David.
And yet he carried the mutation.
“Then why was the DNA test negative?”
“Because your biological records were changed,” Rachel said.
Michael had falsified everything.
He hadn't stolen my son because Oliver was unrelated.
He had stolen him because Oliver was valuable.
The child in the safe-house was not the biological son we thought we had recovered.
Ethan was David's son.
But Oliver was something more.
He was a genetic heir to the original patent.
Michael wanted him.
I held Oliver tighter.
“No.”
Michael stepped forward.
“You have two choices.”
“You're not giving me choices.”
“Bring me Oliver, and your husband lives.”
David turned.
Two men were behind him.
One pressed a gun against his back.
I felt the room collapse.
Michael continued.
“Or refuse, and David dies.”
Oliver began crying.
“Mom…”
I whispered:
“Don't move.”
Michael looked pleased.
Then Karen appeared behind him.
She was holding a fire extinguisher.
She slammed it against his head.
Michael staggered.
Rachel lunged for the gun.
Chaos exploded.
David tackled one guard.
I grabbed the boys.
We ran.
Down the corridor.
Through the emergency exit.
Into the parking lot.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Police vehicles flooded the hospital grounds.
Karen had called them before entering.
Michael was arrested.
The guards were arrested.
Rachel was taken to the hospital.
For the first time in eight years, I thought we might finally be safe.
Then the police chief came to us.
“Mrs. Cole.”
“Yes?”
“We found something in Michael's records.”
“What?”
He handed me a file.
Inside was a DNA profile.
Not Ethan.
Not Oliver.
A third child.
The name on the report was:
Jacob Bennett.
My heart stopped.
“Who's Jacob?”
The chief looked at me.
“You know him.”
I couldn't breathe.
He pointed to a photograph.
A newborn.
Then an eight-year-old boy.
The same boy I had raised.
Oliver.
Except the name on the file was Jacob Bennett.
I looked at David.
He whispered:
“The child we thought was Oliver…”
The chief nodded.
“Was never registered as Oliver at all.”
Rachel came out of surgery hours later.
She was weak but conscious.
I sat beside her.
“Tell me the truth.”
She nodded.
“You have two children.”
“Yes.”
“One is genetically yours and David's.”
“Ethan.”
“Yes.”
“And the other?”
Rachel looked at me.
“Jacob.”
“Who is Jacob?”
She hesitated.
Then said:
“Your son.”
“What?”
“He is not a Bennett.”
“Then whose child is he?”
Rachel's eyes filled with tears.
“He is mine.”
I stared at her.
The entire room went silent.
“You?”
She nodded.
“Jacob was my son.”
I couldn't move.
“The baby I gave birth to…”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“Was never supposed to survive.”
She opened them again.
“But someone brought him to you.”
“Who?”
She whispered:
“Your mother-in-law.”
I felt sick.
Elizabeth had not replaced my baby with a random child.
She had placed Rachel's dying son into my arms.
Not as part of a master plan.
But as an act of desperation.
And that meant something terrible.
The child I loved wasn't stolen from another family.
He had been abandoned.
And I had become his mother.
Then Rachel grabbed my hand.
“There's one thing you don't know.”
“What?”
“Jacob isn't dying.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was born with the same genetic condition as Oliver.”
My blood ran cold.
“Then why did everyone think he wasn't important?”
Rachel whispered:
“Because the real heir isn't the child with the gene.”
May you like
She looked toward the door.
“The real heir is the child who has both.”
