Chapter 11 - The Child My Father StoleEvery answer created a worse question.
Michael sat on the floor.
“I was twenty.”
I stared at him.
“You had a child?”
“I didn't know.”
“You knew about Evan.”
“I knew about the boy.”
“That's not the same.”
Michael wiped blood from his forehead.
“Dad took him from Hannah before you even knew she was pregnant.”
Rebecca interrupted.
“No. That's not what happened.”
We looked at her.
She held another file.
“Evan was born to a woman named Claire Parker.”
“Hannah's sister?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Lucy.
“My aunt.”
Lucy nodded.
“She died when I was little.”
Rebecca opened the file.
Claire Parker had been nineteen.
She had given birth to twins.
A boy.
A girl.
The boy had been registered as Evan Parker.
The girl had died during childbirth.
Except the medical record proved the girl had not died.
She had disappeared.
I felt sick.
“Who was the girl?”
Rebecca looked at Lucy.
“Lucy.”
I stared.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“That's impossible.”
“Hannah raised her as Lucy.”
I looked at the little girl.
“So she's not Hannah's daughter.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“She is.”
“But genetically?”
“Hannah is the biological mother.”
“And Claire?”
“Claire was Hannah's twin sister.”
I couldn't follow anymore.
The family records had been manipulated so many times that blood and names had become two different things.
“Then what does Evan have to do with Lucy?”
Rebecca placed the documents side by side.
“Hannah carried Evan.”
“What?”
“After Claire died, Hannah took responsibility for both children.”
“Why hide them?”
“Because your father believed one of them was genetically valuable.”
Michael whispered:
“Lucy.”
“No,” Rebecca said.
She pointed to the DNA report.
“Evan carries Daniel's genetic markers.”
“Michael's,” I corrected.
Rebecca shook her head.
“No.”
She looked at Michael.
“Thomas altered the record.”
Michael's face collapsed.
He knew.
Finally.
He had always known the truth.
“Evan is Daniel's son.”
I stared at the boy's photograph.
Then at Lucy.
“Then why did Dad say Michael was the father?”
“To split the family.”
“Why?”
“Because he believed you'd kill for your own blood.”
Silence.
“He wanted you obedient.”
The plan suddenly made sense.
My father had spent decades manufacturing loyalty by controlling information about blood.
Then the lights went out.
A gunshot tore through the room.
Rebecca fell.
“Rebecca!”
I caught her.
Blood spread across her shoulder.
Lucy screamed.
Michael drew his weapon.
Three men entered the corridor.
The leader was a woman.
Blond.
Elegant.
Older than Hannah.
She walked toward us without hurry.
I recognized her from the old photographs.
My father's attorney.
Margaret Vale.
She smiled.
“Daniel, your father left you a very complicated inheritance.”
I raised my gun.
“You shot my wife.”
She smiled wider.
“No.”
She pointed toward Michael.
“He did.”
Michael looked at his hand.
There was blood on it.
His face changed.
He had been wounded before entering the room.
The blood wasn't Rebecca's.
It was his.
Margaret turned to Lucy.
“Come with me.”
Lucy backed away.
“No.”
Margaret sighed.
“Then we'll take her the hard way.”
A man grabbed Lucy.
She screamed my name.
“Dad!”
I fired.
The room exploded into chaos.
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And when the smoke cleared...
Lucy was gone.
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