Chapter 3 - Julian didn't move.For several seconds, neither did Mara.
The city traffic hissed outside the car.
Noah slept peacefully between them.
Then Mara whispered:
“My baby.”
Julian looked at the bracelet.
“You had a baby?”
She nodded.
“Eight months ago.”
Julian's heart slammed against his ribs.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“My son is eight months old.”
Mara stared at Noah.
Her breathing became shallow.
“How old is he?”
“Eight months.”
“What date was he born?”
Julian told her.
Mara's eyes widened.
“That was the day my baby was born.”
Silence.
Julian remembered Evelyn's labor.
The hospital.
The emergency surgery.
The doctor telling him there had been complications.
He remembered seeing Noah for the first time.
He remembered Evelyn barely conscious.
He remembered the nurse telling him his wife had been too weak to hold the baby.
But he also remembered something strange.
Evelyn never breastfed Noah.
She had insisted she couldn't.
At the time, Julian had accepted it.
Now every memory seemed contaminated.
Mara touched the hospital bracelet.
“They told me my son was stillborn.”
Julian's voice hardened.
“Who told you?”
“A nurse.”
“What nurse?”
“I don't remember.”
“Doctor?”
She shook her head.
“I remember waking up.”
“Where?”
“A private room.”
“Which hospital?”
“St. Vincent.”
Julian went still.
That was the same hospital where Noah had been born.
He stared at the road ahead.
“Did you see the baby?”
Mara closed her eyes.
“No.”
“Did anyone show you a body?”
“No.”
“Did you sign anything?”
“I was barely conscious.”
“Then how do you know he died?”
“Because they told me.”
Julian laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“They told me my wife couldn't have children.”
Mara stared at him.
“What?”
“Evelyn told me she was pregnant.”
Mara shook her head.
“She wasn't.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she told me.”
Julian turned.
“When?”
“About a month before she died.”
His voice dropped.
“You spoke to my wife?”
“No.”
Mara looked frightened.
“I spoke to Elise.”
Julian stopped breathing.
“Her name was Elise?”
“Yes.”
Mara pointed toward the bracelet.
“She told me she was my sister.”
Julian stared.
“What did she say?”
“She said she had made a terrible mistake.”
“What mistake?”
Mara shook her head.
“I don't remember.”
“Try.”
“I can't.”
“Try.”
Mara squeezed her eyes shut.
Fragments came.
A white room.
A woman's voice.
A needle.
The smell of antiseptic.
Someone crying.
A baby.
Then a sentence.
He belongs to us now.
Mara opened her eyes.
“Someone took my baby.”
Julian's hands went cold.
He thought about the men outside.
The tracking device.
The dead assistant.
The photograph.
Then his son looked exactly like the baby he had been told was his.
Julian pulled the car onto the shoulder.
“Mara.”
She looked at him.
“I need to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Do you have any medical records?”
“Some.”
“Birth records?”
“I think so.”
“Take out your phone.”
She did.
“Search your email for St. Vincent.”
Mara searched.
A message appeared.
She stopped breathing.
“What's wrong?”
She turned the screen toward him.
An email.
No subject.
No sender.
Timestamped seven months ago.
Attached was a photograph of a newborn baby.
The image was blurry.
But the baby had a tiny crescent-shaped mark beneath his left ear.
Julian looked at Noah.
He slowly lifted the baby's chin.
There.
The same mark.
Mara whispered:
“That was my baby.”
Julian couldn't speak.
The black SUV drove past them.
It did not stop.
Instead, another black vehicle appeared behind it.
Mara began crying silently.
Julian started the car.
“We're not going home.”
“Where are we going?”
“To someone I trust.”
“Who?”
“My father's old lawyer.”
“Why him?”
“Because he kept copies of everything my family tried to destroy.”
They drove to a small office downtown.
The lawyer, Arthur Bell, was seventy-two and furious about being summoned after midnight.
Until he saw Mara.
He opened the door wider.
Then his face changed.
“Impossible.”
Julian closed the door behind them.
“You know her?”
Arthur looked at Mara as if he had seen a ghost.
“Your wife told me never to speak about this unless you came to me with the child.”
Julian felt a chill.
“What child?”
Arthur looked at Noah.
“That child.”
Mara stepped backward.
“What did my sister do?”
Arthur's hands trembled.
“She didn't do it.”
“Who did?”
Arthur looked directly at Julian.
“Your father.”
Julian's jaw tightened.
“My father has been dead for twelve years.”
Arthur nodded.
“I know.”
He walked to a locked cabinet.
Opened it.
Removed a thick brown file.
And placed it on the desk.
On the cover was a single handwritten word.
PROJECT MERCER.
Before Julian could open it, the office lights went out.
A gunshot shattered the window.
Arthur collapsed.
Mara screamed.
Julian grabbed Noah.
May you like
And in the darkness, someone whispered from the hallway:
“Take the waitress.”
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