Chapter 6 - The Truth Behind the Locked Door
“What document?”
Daniel looked at the operating-room doors.
“Not now.”
I stepped toward him.
“Now.”
“Your mother may be having an emergency C-section.”
“And she used what might be her last sentence to tell me about that file.”
His face tightened.
“You’re right.”
He sat.
I stayed standing.
“Margaret left a second letter.”
“What did it say?”
“It explained why she kept the embryo.”
“Go on.”
“She discovered what Stephen had done years before she became sick.”
“And?”
“She wanted it destroyed.”
I frowned.
“That’s what Mom said.”
“But then she learned Stephen had created more than one.”
My blood turned cold.
“How many?”
“Four.”
I stared.
“Where?”
“Three were destroyed.”
“And the fourth is Mom’s.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“The one Evelyn is carrying was listed as destroyed.”
I couldn’t speak.
“Then what was the fourth?”
“Missing.”
I sat slowly.
“Missing where?”
“No one knows.”
Daniel explained that Margaret had hired investigators after discovering the irregularities.
Clinic archives showed Stephen manipulated labels on several samples.
He had been conducting unauthorized experiments.
Most never resulted in pregnancy.
But one embryo disappeared from inventory.
“Why does this matter now?”
“Because Margaret’s final letter said she believed someone had removed it.”
“Who?”
“She didn’t know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because nothing in the letter proved it.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Still protecting me?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“This time I was protecting Lily.”
I froze.
“What does Lily have to do with this?”
Daniel’s face changed.
“After Margaret died, someone accessed your fertility records.”
“When?”
“Three weeks before Lily was born.”
My chest tightened.
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop saying that.”
“I don’t know!”
His voice cracked for the first time.
People in the waiting room looked over.
He lowered his voice.
“I have spent months trying to figure out whether any of this could touch you or Lily.”
“What did you find?”
“Nothing.”
I stared at him.
“Then why are you scared?”
“Because yesterday, Dr. Bell told me the clinic found another sample number connected to Stephen.”
“What sample?”
Daniel looked toward the neonatal wing.
“A child born last year.”
I felt sick.
Before I could ask more, the operating-room doors opened.
A doctor came out.
“Family of Evelyn Harper?”
I stood.
“I’m her daughter.”
“The baby has been delivered.”
My knees weakened.
“A girl. Very small. She’s being transferred to the NICU.”
“And my mother?”
The doctor’s pause lasted only a second.
It felt endless.
“She had significant bleeding. We have it controlled, but she’s not out of danger.”
I covered my mouth.
Daniel caught me as my knees buckled.
For several minutes, everything else disappeared.
Stephen.
Margaret.
The embryo.
The lies.
None of it mattered.
My mother was alive.
The baby was alive.
That was enough.
For that moment.
Two hours later, I saw the baby through NICU glass.
Two pounds, nine ounces.
Tiny.
Red-faced.
Surrounded by tubes and monitors.
I expected to feel horror when I looked at her.
After all, genetically she came from something that should never have happened.
Instead, I saw a child.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Her fist opened weakly.
Then closed.
I cried.
Daniel stood behind me.
“What are you thinking?”
“That she didn’t ask for any of this.”
He nodded.
Neither had I.
Neither had Mom.
Not really.
We had all been pulled into consequences created by dead people and old secrets.
But secrets were still being kept by the living.
I turned to Daniel.
“I need the rest.”
He nodded.
“No more hiding.”
“No more.”
Later that night, Mom regained consciousness.
I sat beside her.
“She’s alive,” I whispered.
Mom cried immediately.
“The baby?”
“She’s tiny.”
“Healthy?”
“Doctors are cautiously optimistic.”
Mom closed her eyes.
“Thank God.”
I waited.
Then said, “Daniel told me about the missing embryo.”
Her eyes opened.
“He shouldn’t have waited.”
“No.”
“I’m done defending him for that.”
I almost smiled.
“Good.”
Mom grew serious.
“There’s something else.”
Of course there was.
“Margaret believed Stephen had help.”
“Who?”
“A laboratory technician named Victor Kane.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“She didn’t know.”
I pulled out my phone.
A quick search found several men by that name.
Then Daniel leaned over.
“Wait.”
He pointed.
One result showed a gray-haired man listed as a medical courier.
My skin went cold.
The photograph was older.
But I recognized him.
“The man from the security footage.”
Daniel nodded.
Dr. Bell was not the only man who had visited our house.
In older footage, another man had appeared.
I had assumed he was clinic staff.
Victor Kane.
Stephen’s former laboratory technician.
“Why was he here?”
Mom stared at us.
“He came to me.”
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“He wanted money.”
“For what?”
“Silence.”
My pulse quickened.
“About what?”
Mom hesitated.
“Victor claimed Stephen didn’t create the embryo as revenge.”
“Then why?”
“He was trying to prove something.”
“What?”
Mom looked toward the NICU.
“That he could create genetically related children without consent.”
I felt cold.
“He was experimenting on families?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Victor claimed dozens.”
Daniel whispered, “Jesus.”
Mom continued.
“Margaret paid Victor for copies of records.”
“Where are they?”
“He gave me a flash drive.”
“Where?”
“At home.”
“Where at home?”
“In the guest room. Inside the locked jewelry box.”
Daniel and I looked at each other.
I remembered something.
The security footage.
At 1:17 a.m., the stranger with the black case.
Not Dr. Bell.
Victor.
I had assumed wrong because Daniel told me Dr. Bell had come.
There had been two visits.
“Daniel.”
He looked at me.
“Who came to the house last night?”
“Dr. Bell.”
“And Victor?”
“I never let Victor inside.”
Mom went pale.
“He came anyway.”
“When?”
“Earlier.”
My heart pounded.
“The camera showed a man with a silver container forty-seven days ago.”
Mom’s face drained.
“That wasn’t Dr. Bell.”
Daniel stared.
“What?”
Mom whispered, “That was Victor.”
“Why was he bringing you a cryogenic container?”
“He wasn’t bringing it to me.”
“Then who?”
Mom’s eyes filled with fear.
“He said he was taking something back.”
We drove home immediately.
The guest-room door was closed.
Daniel unlocked it.
Mom’s jewelry box sat on the dresser.
Locked.
I found the key beneath her Bible.
Inside were pearls.
Old rings.
Dad’s wedding band.
And a flash drive.
I plugged it into Daniel’s laptop.
Folders appeared.
Patient numbers.
Dates.
Transfer logs.
DNA reports.
I opened the newest file.
My hands began shaking.
It was dated six months earlier.
Lily’s birth date appeared at the top.
I stared.
“No.”
Daniel leaned closer.
The report listed Lily’s DNA profile.
Then another profile.
A cryopreserved embryo.
The compatibility analysis showed a genetic relationship.
Not identical.
Not parent-child.
Sibling-level overlap.
Daniel whispered, “Claire…”
I kept reading.
At the bottom was one sentence.
Remaining specimen transferred from storage by V. Kane. Current location unknown.
Then the front-door security alarm chimed.
Someone had entered the house.
Daniel stood.
I looked at the live camera.
An older man in a dark coat stepped into the hallway.
May you like
Victor Kane.
And in his hand was the same silver container.
