Chapter 9 - The Other TwoChristopher sat in the living room under police supervision.
He looked at my mother only once.
“You should have stopped.”
She said nothing.
I sat across from him.
“You said there are two other children.”
“There were.”
“Were?”
He nodded.
“Your mother created three embryo transfers.”
“Why?”
“To satisfy the Mercer trust.”
I stared at him.
“Emma is one.”
“Yes.”
“Who are the others?”
Christopher gave me two names.
One was a girl.
One was a boy.
Both were born within eighteen months of Emma.
Both had disappeared from their original families.
I couldn't process it.
“She took them?”
“Not physically.”
“Then how?”
“Money.”
Christopher described a network of private clinics, guardianship arrangements and sealed medical records.
My mother had used her connections to place children where no one would connect them to the trust.
“But why three?”
“Redundancy.”
My stomach turned.
“She created backups.”
“Yes.”
“Children as backups.”
Christopher nodded.
“Each was connected to the same genetic line.”
“And Emma?”
“Emma was the first.”
I looked down.
The little girl sleeping in the hospital was not born by accident.
She had been planned.
And my mother had planned her entire life before she could say her own name.
“What happened to the other children?”
Christopher pulled a worn notebook from his coat.
“I tracked them.”
Inside were photographs.
A boy named Noah.
A girl named Claire.
Noah lived in another state.
Claire had been adopted by a family in Oregon.
Both were alive.
Both were unaware of the trust.
Both were being watched.
“Why did you wait so long?”
Christopher looked at me.
“Because your mother had people everywhere.”
“Why come now?”
He answered quietly.
“Because she made one mistake.”
“The attack?”
“The attack.”
He nodded.
“She crossed a line that forced the truth into daylight.”
Detective Cole took the notebook.
“What do you know about the morning attack?”
“Almost everything.”
“Did she order it?”
“Yes.”
“Can you prove it?”
Christopher pulled out a small recorder.
“The original.”
We listened.
My mother's voice.
Vanessa's.
Ethan's.
Every plan.
Every instruction.
Then another voice appeared.
A lawyer.
My mother's attorney.
He was discussing the custody petition.
“Once the child is injured, the court will view Rachel as unstable.”
Another voice asked:
“What about the daughter?”
The lawyer answered:
“She doesn't need to understand anything.”
My blood ran cold.
Detective Cole stopped the recording.
“That's enough.”
But Christopher shook his head.
“No.”
He rewound.
Another conversation began.
This time, it was between my mother and Vanessa.
Vanessa asked:
“What if Emma survives?”
My mother replied:
“Then we use the blood test.”
“What blood test?”
“The one taken at the clinic.”
Detective Cole looked at me.
“What clinic?”
Christopher answered.
“Mercer Genetic Institute.”
I frowned.
“That's not a hospital.”
“No.”
“What did they test?”
Christopher looked at me.
“They weren't testing Emma's health.”
“They were comparing her DNA.”
“To whom?”
Christopher's expression changed.
“To me.”
I sat forward.
“And?”
“They discovered something impossible.”
“What?”
He whispered:
“Emma is genetically mine.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“Her mitochondrial profile should not match me.”
“But it does.”
Christopher looked toward my mother.
“She made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“She used my sister's embryo line.”
I stared.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“But if Emma is genetically connected to you...”
Christopher shook his head.
“She is more connected than that.”
He placed another document on the table.
It was a genetic relationship report.
My name.
Emma's name.
Christopher's name.
The result was highlighted.
Biological mother: Rachel Hart.
Biological uncle: Christopher Mercer.
But beneath it was a fourth line.
Additional close genetic relationship detected.
The system identified the match as:
Sibling.
I looked at Christopher.
“Who?”
Before he could answer, my phone rang.
It was the hospital.
The nurse sounded frightened.
“Rachel, you need to come back immediately.”
“Why?”
“There is a man here asking for Emma.”
May you like
“What man?”
“He says he's her father.”
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