Chapter 8 - The Child They DesignedMy mother finally spoke.

“She was always going to be yours.”

I stared at her.

“You stole my eggs.”

“We preserved them.”

“You lied to me.”

“You wouldn't have agreed.”

“Because it was my body!”

Her expression hardened.

“You were young.”

“You don't get to decide that for me.”

Detective Cole stepped between us.

“Mrs. Bellini, you're done speaking for now.”

But my mother looked at me.

“You don't understand why Emma had to exist.”

I laughed bitterly.

“I understand enough.”

“No.”

She shook her head.

“She was the only way to preserve the Mercer trust.”

I felt sick.

“They chose me because I was genetically connected.”

“Yes.”

“And you knew my child would inherit it.”

“Yes.”

“Then why try to take her from me?”

“Because the trustees discovered inconsistencies.”

“What inconsistencies?”

My mother looked at Ethan.

He answered.

“The estate required a biological descendant.”

I went still.

“What does that mean?”

Ethan explained.

“The trust was created to prevent non-Mercer relatives from taking control. Your mother thought she had solved the problem by using your genetic material.”

“But Emma wasn't genetically Mercer.”

“She is.”

I frowned.

“My DNA came from Daniel Mercer?”

“No,” Ethan said.

“Then?”

He hesitated.

“Your mother was the one who knew.”

My mother finally whispered:

“The donor wasn't Daniel.”

I looked at her.

“Who?”

She said a name.

“Christopher Mercer.”

The room went silent.

Christopher Mercer had been Daniel's younger brother.

And unlike Daniel, Christopher had one surviving child.

A son.

A son who had vanished from all public records twenty-four years earlier.

Detective Cole looked stunned.

“Why would you use Christopher's genetic material?”

“Because Daniel's trust required direct Mercer lineage.”

“And Christopher wasn't eligible?”

“He was.”

“Then why hide him?”

My mother's eyes lowered.

“Because Christopher wanted nothing to do with the family.”

“And you?”

“I needed an heir.”

I understood then.

Emma wasn't merely a granddaughter.

She was an asset.

A living key to forty million dollars.

A key my mother had created without my knowledge.

But there was still something missing.

“If Emma was genetically connected to Christopher Mercer,” I said, “why didn't you simply tell the trustees?”

My mother remained silent.

Detective Cole looked at her.

“Answer.”

Finally she said:

“Because Christopher wasn't supposed to be alive.”

I felt the room disappear.

“What?”

“He disappeared after a boating accident.”

“When?”

“Twenty-four years ago.”

“But you knew where he was?”

She hesitated.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“He lived under another name.”

My father suddenly spoke from the hallway.

“He wanted to come back.”

My mother turned on him.

“Don't.”

But it was too late.

My father continued.

“He contacted Rachel last year.”

I stared at him.

“When?”

“September.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because your mother intercepted the letter.”

My mother's face changed.

I felt my chest tighten.

“What letter?”

My father looked at me.

“The letter from your biological uncle.”

The detective moved immediately.

“Where is it?”

My father said:

“Hidden in the old nursery.”

We searched for nearly an hour.

Behind a cracked wall panel, we found a small envelope.

My name was written on it.

Inside was a single page.

The handwriting looked old.

But the message was clear.

Rachel,

If this reaches you, your mother has failed to keep me away.

I did not die.

I disappeared because I learned what she was doing with your DNA.

And Emma is not the only child she made.

I stopped reading.

There was another line beneath it.

She created three children from the same genetic line.

My hands went numb.

Detective Cole took the letter.

“What does that mean?”

I stared at my mother.

She looked terrified for the first time.

Then someone knocked on the front door.

Three slow knocks.

Detective Cole reached for his weapon.

The door opened.

A man stood outside.

Older.

Thin.

White-haired.

He looked directly at me.

“I’m Christopher,” he said.

“I’m your uncle.”

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Then he looked at the letter in my hand.

“And I know where the other two children are.”