Chapter 6 - Owen Already Knew
I called 911.
Then Owen.
He was already driving.
“Do not go inside,” I told him.
“Claire’s in there.”
“The police are coming.”
“She’s my fiancée.”
“She's also the woman who cheated on you.”
“I know.”
His voice broke.
“I still don't want her dead.”
Neither did I.
Betrayal didn't erase twelve years overnight.
Police reached the abandoned clinic first.
Claire was found locked inside an archive room.
Alive.
Shaken.
Alone.
But the room had been searched.
Files covered the floor.
One cabinet had been emptied.
Claire insisted she had heard someone leave through a service corridor moments before police entered.
Security cameras had been removed years ago.
Convenient.
At the hospital, Claire asked to see me.
Owen sat beside her.
I noticed something strange.
They weren't touching.
But he hadn't left.
Claire handed me a plastic evidence sleeve.
“I hid this before whoever was inside reached me.”
A single page.
Embryology transfer log.
My name appeared under PATIENT.
But under EMBRYO SOURCE was a code.
RV-0417.
Rebecca Vale.
My sister.
I stared at Claire.
“The embryo transferred into me belonged to Rebecca?”
“Yes.”
“But it failed.”
Claire swallowed.
“I don't think it did.”
“Then where is the child?”
Owen stood.
He walked to the window.
“Owen?”
He didn't turn.
Claire began crying.
My pulse accelerated.
“What does he know?”
Owen faced me.
“Evelyn, I found something before Claire did.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“What?”
“A photograph.”
He pulled out his phone.
A little boy stood beside Rebecca.
Dark hair.
Gray eyes.
About eighteen months old.
My stomach dropped.
“He was born seven months after your procedure,” Owen said.
“That’s impossible.”
Claire shook her head.
“Not if the pregnancy was removed.”
I stared at her.
“What did you say?”
“There’s a procedure called embryo flushing, but after implantation it's medically dangerous and not a standard way to transfer an established pregnancy. The records suggest something experimental happened.”
“No.”
I remembered waking after the procedure.
Cramping.
Bleeding weeks later.
Damon had rushed me to the clinic.
Doctors said it was hormonal.
I had lost two days to sedation and pain medication.
“What are you telling me?”
Claire's voice shook.
“That embryo may have implanted in you.”
I couldn't breathe.
“And someone removed it?”
“We don't know.”
“And Rebecca has the child?”
“We think so.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
Owen answered.
“Money.”
Richard Vale’s trust.
Victoria’s brother had died wealthy.
His estate contained an unusual clause.
A biological grandchild inherited a controlling block of shares in the Carter family company.
Rebecca had been unable to carry a pregnancy.
Her embryo needed a surrogate.
I had apparently been used without knowing it.
Then the pregnancy had been transferred—or somehow the reproductive material had been recovered through a procedure the records intentionally obscured.
The details were monstrous.
But the motive was simple.
An heir.
I looked at Owen.
“You knew for three months?”
“I suspected.”
“You let me sit across from you at dinner while you knew?”
“I didn't know enough.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
He looked ashamed.
Claire whispered, “I'm sorry.”
I turned toward her.
“You slept with my husband.”
“Yes.”
“You stole my medical information.”
“Yes.”
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“Why should I believe anything now?”
“You shouldn't.”
Her answer surprised me.
“Then why are you helping?”
“Because when I realized what had been done to you, I finally saw what kind of person I had become.”
Tears ran down her cheeks.
“I can't undo Damon. I can't undo Owen. I can't undo what I did to you. But I can stop lying.”
For once, that was enough.
Not forgiveness.
Truth.
My phone rang.
Damon.
“I found Rebecca.”
I stood.
“Where?”
“At my mother's office.”
“What?”
“She walked in ten minutes ago.”
“Why?”
“She brought a child.”
The little boy.
I grabbed my purse.
“I’m coming.”
“Evelyn…”
“What?”
Damon lowered his voice.
“The boy called my mother Grandma.”
I stopped.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“I know.”
“Don't let them leave.”
“I won't.”
Then Damon said something else.
“Owen already knew who the boy’s father was.”
I slowly turned.
Owen had gone pale.
I ended the call.
“Who is the father?”
He said nothing.
“Owen.”
Claire stared at him.
“What haven't you told us?”
Owen sat down.
“I was trying to confirm it.”
“WHO?”
He looked at Claire.
Then me.
“The DNA report identified the father.”
My chest tightened.
“Say the name.”
Before he could, the hospital-room door opened.
Victoria stood there.
She had heard everything.
And behind her was Rebecca.
Holding the hand of a little boy.
Rebecca looked directly at Owen.
Then she said, “Tell her.”
The little boy pulled free from her hand.
May you like
He ran toward Owen.
And called him Daddy.
