Chapter 7 - My MotherThe helicopter landed at a private estate outside Seattle.
Noah’s security team surrounded us before we even reached the ground.
I held my baby tightly.
Grant had spent ten years lying to me.
My mother had spent ten years pretending to be dead.
And Noah had just learned I might be his half-sister.
Nothing in my life made sense anymore.
Noah walked beside me.
“Emma.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“I want a DNA test.”
I nodded.
“So do I.”
Grant looked uncomfortable.
“You should hear the rest first.”
“No.”
I turned toward him.
“You lost the right to control the story.”
He looked down.
“I know.”
Inside the estate, Noah’s chief security officer handed him a phone.
“Mr. Whitaker, we found the warehouse.”
“And Evan?”
“Alive.”
I nearly collapsed from relief.
Then the officer continued.
“But there’s a problem.”
“What?”
“Someone got to him first.”
Noah’s expression hardened.
“Who?”
“A woman.”
“Description?”
“Blonde. Mid-forties.”
Grant whispered:
“Vanessa.”
Noah looked at him.
“Where is she now?”
“Gone.”
I stepped closer.
“Does Evan remember anything?”
“He was conscious for thirty seconds.”
“And?”
The officer handed Noah a recording.
A weak male voice came through.
“Emma…”
My heart stopped.
“Emma is the key.”
The recording ended.
I stared at Noah.
“What does that mean?”
He didn’t know.
Then the front doors opened.
A woman entered.
Gray coat.
Dark hair.
Older than the photographs I remembered.
But I knew her instantly.
My mother.
Rachel Hayes.
She looked at me.
Tears filled her eyes.
“Emma.”
I couldn’t move.
She walked toward me.
I stepped backward.
“You let me believe you were dead.”
“I had no choice.”
“You always had a choice.”
She looked at my daughter.
“She has his eyes.”
Whose eyes?
I wanted to ask.
Then she looked at Noah.
“Noah…”
He stepped forward.
“You murdered my father.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“No.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
“I killed someone.”
Silence.
“Who?”
Rachel looked at me.
“Your father.”
My lungs stopped working.
Noah’s face went blank.
Grant turned away.
And my mother whispered:
“I killed him because he was going to kill you.”
Before I could speak, a gunshot shattered the front window.
Rachel dropped.
Blood spread across her coat.
I screamed.
Noah dragged me behind the sofa.
Security stormed the room.
Outside, tires screamed away.
And on the floor beside my mother was a small envelope.
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Inside was one sentence:
THE BABY IS NEXT.
