Chapter 4 - The Woman My Mother Had Been
I kicked the steel door open and shouted:
“Call the police. Now.”
Vale grabbed a folder containing my mother’s original clinic records.
A photograph slipped from it.
On the back, Maya had written:
ASK MOM ABOUT ROSE.
I stopped.
Rose.
My dead niece.
“What does this mean?”
Vale looked at the photograph.
“I don’t know.”
I took it and ran.
Marcus called while I drove.
“Where are you?”
“Going to my mother’s.”
“I told you not to enter that clinic.”
“My mother may be in danger.”
“Units are already moving.”
“How?”
“You called 911 from the clinic.”
“I didn’t.”
Silence.
“Then someone did.”
I drove faster.
Police vehicles were outside my mother’s house when I arrived.
Front door open.
No broken lock.
I ran inside.
“Mom!”
A uniformed officer stopped me.
“Ma’am—”
“I’m federal.”
I showed credentials.
“Where is Rebecca Hart?”
The officer pointed toward the kitchen.
My mother sat at the table wrapped in a blanket.
Alive.
I crossed the room and hugged her.
She held me harder than she had in years.
“What happened?”
“Someone came in.”
“Who?”
“I didn’t see.”
“You screamed on the voicemail.”
“They came through the back door.”
“Did they hurt you?”
“No.”
“What did they take?”
She looked at me.
“Nothing.”
I knew she was lying.
“Mom.”
“Not here.”
Marcus entered behind me.
Six-foot-two.
Forty-two.
The kind of agent who looked permanently disappointed in the human race.
He saw my face.
“You found something.”
“Yes.”
“Evidence?”
I held up the drive.
His expression changed.
“Bag it.”
“No.”
“Lena.”
“Maya left it for me.”
“And you are a federal investigator holding potential homicide evidence. Bag it.”
He was right.
I hated that.
I handed it over.
“Duplicate it before anyone touches the original.”
“Obviously.”
“And don’t put it on the network.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Why?”
“Because Daniel’s financial reach is larger than we thought.”
Marcus looked toward my mother.
“How large?”
“I don’t know yet.”
He took the drive.
“I’ll call you.”
“Marcus.”
“What?”
“There may be evidence Daniel arranged an unauthorized medical procedure on Maya.”
His expression hardened.
“Then you are done investigating personally.”
“She was my sister.”
“Exactly.”
“I can help.”
“You can provide what you know. You cannot execute warrants, conduct custodial interviews, or arrest your brother-in-law.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I didn’t answer.
After he left, I sat opposite my mother.
“Tell me everything.”
She looked older than she had that morning.
“What did Vale show you?”
“Our files.”
Her eyes closed.
“So you know.”
“No. I know paperwork says Dad wasn’t our biological father.”
“He knew.”
That hurt in a way I hadn’t expected.
“Who was?”
“A donor.”
“Same donor for Maya and me?”
“Yes.”
“We were born three years apart.”
“I requested the same donor.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Your father and I agreed it didn’t matter.”
“He was our father.”
“Yes.”
There was no hesitation.
“He loved you both from the moment I became pregnant.”
I believed her.
My father had died twelve years earlier.
Nothing in a laboratory could change who taught me to ride a bicycle, checked under my bed for monsters, or sat through my academy graduation crying harder than my mother.
“Why was Maya looking at those records?”
My mother’s hands trembled.
“Because she discovered the donor program had never ended.”
“What?”
“The clinic changed names. Owners. Locations. But the program continued.”
“Daniel was involved?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Stop protecting him.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why were you photographed with him?”
Her face fell.
“He came to me.”
“When?”
“After Maya discovered the paternity discrepancy.”
“Why?”
“He wanted to know what I remembered about the original program.”
“And you told him?”
“No.”
“What did he want?”
“A name.”
“Whose?”
“The donor’s.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
I placed Maya’s photograph on the table.
ASK MOM ABOUT ROSE.
My mother stared at it.
Then she began crying.
“What?”
“Maya asked me something the week before she died.”
“What?”
“If it was possible for a genetic test to identify relatives through archived donor material.”
My mind raced.
“She was trying to identify Rose’s biological father.”
“Yes.”
“Did she?”
“I think so.”
“Who?”
“She never told me.”
I remembered Maya’s video.
ROSE folder.
Marcus had the drive now.
I called him.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then my phone rang.
Celeste.
“Where are you?”
She was crying.
“Daniel knows.”
“Knows what?”
“That I gave you the key.”
“Where are you?”
“A hotel.”
“Which one?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“You called me.”
“Because he’s looking for the drive.”
“How does he know I found it?”
“I don’t know.”
I looked at my mother.
“Celeste, why did you give me the key?”
Silence.
“Because Maya gave it to me.”
That changed everything.
“When?”
“The night she died.”
“You saw her?”
“Yes.”
“You told me Daniel was at the clinic six weeks earlier. You didn’t tell me you saw Maya the night she died.”
“I was scared.”
“What happened?”
“Maya came to my apartment.”
“Why?”
“She knew about me and Daniel.”
“And?”
“She didn’t care anymore.”
I almost laughed.
Maya had moved beyond betrayal.
She had found something bigger.
“What did she want?”
“She gave me the key.”
“Why you?”
“She said Daniel would never suspect his mistress of helping his wife.”
That sounded exactly like Maya.
“What else?”
“She gave me an envelope.”
“Where is it?”
“Daniel took it.”
“When?”
“The night she died.”
“How?”
“He came to my apartment after the ambulance took her away.”
My stomach tightened.
“He knew she visited you.”
“Yes.”
“What was in the envelope?”
“I never opened it.”
“Did Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He burned it.”
Of course.
“But before he did, I saw one thing.”
“What?”
“A photograph.”
“Of who?”
“A man.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“No.”
“Anything written on it?”
Celeste went quiet.
“Celeste.”
“There was a name.”
“What name?”
She whispered it.
“Adrian Cross.”
My mother dropped her glass.
It shattered on the floor.
I looked at her.
“You know him.”
She went white.
“Mom.”
She stood.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“Celeste.”
My mother shook her head.
“No.”
“Who is Adrian Cross?”
“He can’t be involved.”
“Who is he?”
She stared at me.
Then she whispered:
“He was the donor.”
My biological father.
And Maya’s.
My phone buzzed.
Marcus.
I answered.
“Tell me you copied the drive.”
His voice was tight.
“I did.”
“What happened?”
“The Rose folder is encrypted.”
“And?”
“We opened part of Maya’s video.”
My heart pounded.
“What does she say?”
“Lena, you need to come in.”
“Tell me.”
Silence.
Then Marcus said:
“Maya identified Rose’s biological father.”
I looked at my mother.
“Who?”
Marcus took a breath.
“Adrian Cross.”
The room went silent.
That was impossible.
If Adrian Cross was Maya’s biological father—
and Rose’s biological father—
then the truth was worse than murder.
But Marcus wasn’t finished.
“There’s something else,” he said.
“We ran Cross through federal records.”
I gripped the phone.
“And?”
“He isn’t a fertility donor.”
“What is he?”
May you like
Marcus lowered his voice.
“He’s Daniel Voss’s father.”
