Chapter 5 - The Woman Who Should Be DeadGrief had convinced me for six years that she was gone.
She stepped into the room.
Long dark coat.
Pale face.
The same green eyes.
The same small scar beneath her left eyebrow.
Rebecca.
My wife.
Dead for six years.
“Daniel.”
I couldn't move.
Michael lowered his gun.
“Rebecca.”
She looked at him.
“I hoped I wouldn't have to see you again.”
I finally found my voice.
“You died.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I know.”
“You died in that crash.”
“No.”
I stepped backward.
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
She pulled a photograph from her coat.
The wreckage.
My car.
The license plate.
Rebecca had been declared dead because the body was burned beyond recognition.
She handed me another document.
A dental record.
A woman named Elise Grant had died in my wife's place.
I stared at it.
“Why?”
“Because someone wanted me dead.”
“Who?”
She looked at Michael.
Then at me.
“Your father.”
“But he's dead.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“He died eight years ago.”
Michael looked at me.
“He knew.”
I turned.
“You knew?”
Michael's face crumbled.
“I found out after the funeral.”
“You knew Rebecca was alive?”
“Yes.”
“For six years?”
“I was protecting you.”
I wanted to hit him.
Instead I asked the only question that mattered.
“Where is Lucy?”
Rebecca's expression changed.
“With Hannah.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“That isn't good enough.”
“She was moved tonight.”
“By whom?”
Rebecca looked at the files.
“People who have been moving children for twenty years.”
The room went silent.
“What children?”
“Children born to women your father controlled.”
I stared at her.
“He ran trafficking?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then say what he did.”
“Your father financed a network that changed identities, forged records, bought properties, and used vulnerable families to move children without leaving a legal trail.”
My stomach turned.
“And Lucy?”
“She was one of the babies.”
“Why me?”
Rebecca looked at me for a long moment.
“Because your father believed you were easier to control than he was.”
“What does that mean?”
She stepped closer.
“Lucy was conceived before I met you.”
I blinked.
“No.”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“I never cheated on you.”
“I know.”
“Then how?”
Rebecca's voice broke.
“Your father arranged it.”
Michael looked down.
I felt the room tilt.
“What did he arrange?”
“A fertility procedure.”
Silence.
“Twenty years ago, your father used his influence at a private clinic.”
My hands went numb.
“He made sure Lucy's biological father was you.”
“But I wasn't married to Rebecca.”
“You were nineteen.”
I stared at her.
She whispered:
“Your father wanted an heir.”
The word echoed in the room.
Heir.
Not daughter.
Not child.
Asset.
A child who could be used.
A child whose existence could be hidden.
A child whose identity could be controlled.
Lucy.
I thought about her $2.17.
Her soup.
Her suspicion.
Her refusal to accept charity.
Then Rebecca said the sentence that broke whatever remained of my certainty.
“Daniel, your father didn't just hide Lucy.”
She handed me a final photograph.
A pregnant Hannah.
Standing beside Thomas Mercer.
May you like
And beside them...
was Michael.
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