Chapter 6 - The Boy With My Eyes
The woman tightened her grip on the little boy's hand and shouted:
“Samuel, run!”
The boy didn't move.
He stared straight at me.
Then he whispered one word.
“Mom?”
My heart stopped.
Not because he had called me that.
Because he wasn't looking at me.
He was looking at the woman beside him.
She immediately pulled him behind her.
Julian stepped in front of me.
“Stay back.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“That's my son.”
“We don't know that yet.”
But I did.
I couldn't explain how.
The dark hair.
The shape of his chin.
The tiny crease between his eyebrows when he was frightened.
But mostly his eyes.
My eyes.
The same gray-blue Ethan used to tease me about because they looked blue in sunlight and almost silver when I cried.
Samuel had them.
The woman backed toward the station door.
“Don't come closer.”
I lifted both hands.
“I won't.”
Julian glanced at me.
I stepped around him.
“What's your name?”
The woman hesitated.
“Rachel.”
“Rachel Reid?”
Her face changed.
“Yes.”
My knees weakened.
Samuel Reid.
The name from Adrian's records.
“You're his mother.”
Rachel's eyes filled with tears.
“Yes.”
The answer hurt.
I had expected it to.
It hurt anyway.
Samuel peeked around her arm.
He was wearing dinosaur pajamas beneath an oversized winter coat.
Someone had dragged him out of bed.
Recently.
He looked frightened and sleepy.
I forced myself not to move toward him.
“Why are you here?”
Rachel looked toward the open locker.
“You found Elena's files.”
“You knew Elena?”
“She contacted me.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Why?”
Rachel swallowed.
“She told me Samuel's adoption wasn't legal.”
My hand moved instinctively to my stomach.
Julian stepped closer.
“Who arranged the adoption?”
Rachel looked at him.
Then recognition crossed her face.
“You're Julian Duval.”
“Yes.”
Her fear increased.
“No.”
She grabbed Samuel.
“We're leaving.”
“Wait.”
I moved forward.
Rachel backed away.
“Your family did this.”
Julian stopped.
“My father?”
“Henri Duval signed the authorization.”
The words landed hard.
Julian's face became stone.
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
“How do you know?”
“Elena showed me.”
I stared at Rachel.
“You've known for three weeks that Samuel might have been stolen?”
Her face crumpled.
“What was I supposed to do?”
“Call the police.”
“And tell them what?”
“That your son isn't yours!”
The words escaped before I could stop them.
Samuel flinched.
Rachel pulled him closer.
I immediately regretted it.
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I'm sorry.”
Samuel looked between us.
Rachel whispered something into his hair.
I forced myself to breathe.
He was a child.
Whatever had happened had not happened because of him.
And Rachel's terror told me something important.
She hadn't stolen him.
She was terrified of losing him.
Exactly as I was terrified that I already had.
I lowered my voice.
“Did you know when you adopted him?”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
“My husband and I had been trying for six years. We were approved through a private agency. They told us his biological mother had suffered complications and died.”
My stomach turned.
“They told you I died?”
“Yes.”
“What about his father?”
“Unknown.”
I closed my eyes.
Ethan had been erased too.
For once, he had been robbed by the same lie.
“Your husband?”
Rachel's face changed.
“He died four years ago.”
“I'm sorry.”
She nodded.
“Samuel doesn't remember much about him.”
The boy looked up.
“I remember Dad's pancakes.”
Rachel's mouth trembled.
“He burned them.”
Samuel almost smiled.
“He said black was a flavor.”
Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped me.
Samuel looked at me.
For one strange second, we both smiled.
Then I started crying.
I couldn't stop it.
I turned away.
Julian placed a hand on my shoulder.
This time I didn't pull away.
Rachel watched us.
“You really didn't know.”
I looked back.
“No.”
“Elena said you didn't.”
“What else did she tell you?”
“That people had been looking for the original records.”
“Henri?”
“She didn't know.”
“Then why bring Samuel here?”
Rachel looked at the locker.
“Because Elena told me if anything happened to her, I had to bring him to locker 317 at ten tonight.”
I checked the station clock.
9:58.
Julian immediately looked around.
“Why ten?”
“She didn't say.”
My skin prickled.
The photographs.
The anonymous messages.
Someone had been directing all of us.
Gala.
Vault.
Station.
“Rachel, did Elena tell you who would meet you?”
Rachel shook her head.
“She said I'd know.”
Julian pulled out his phone.
“Victor.”
No answer.
He tried again.
Nothing.
His expression changed.
“My security team should be twenty yards away.”
I looked toward the corridor.
Empty.
Too empty.
Julian took my hand.
“We're leaving.”
Rachel nodded.
“Good.”
I reached into locker 317.
“Take the ledger.”
Julian grabbed it.
I took the sealed placement envelope.
Then I saw something beneath it.
A second photograph.
I picked it up.
Henri Duval stood beside a hospital incubator.
Inside was a newborn.
My newborn.
The date was printed in the corner.
Seven years ago.
On the back, someone had written:
H.D. APPROVED TRANSFER.
I handed it to Julian.
He stared.
“My father.”
“You didn't know.”
“No.”
The pain in his voice was unmistakable.
For months, I had seen Julian as almost invulnerable.
Now he looked like a son discovering his father had been a stranger.
Samuel stepped closer.
“Is that me?”
Every adult froze.
I looked down at him.
He pointed at the photograph.
“The baby.”
Rachel crouched.
“Samuel—”
“Is it?”
I couldn't lie to him.
“I think so.”
“Why does she have my baby picture?”
Rachel's eyes filled.
“Sweetheart.”
He looked at me again.
“Who are you?”
There it was.
The question I had imagined without knowing I was imagining it.
Who are you?
Not Mom.
Not mother.
Not anything.
Just a stranger crying in a train station.
“My name is Claire.”
“I know.”
I blinked.
“How?”
Samuel reached into his coat.
He pulled out a folded piece of paper.
Rachel looked shocked.
“Where did you get that?”
“Ms. Elena gave it to me.”
He unfolded it.
It was a photograph of me.
Not recent.
Seven years old.
Pregnant.
Very pregnant.
Standing beside Olivia Hart.
My hand was resting over my stomach.
I took the photograph.
My fingers shook.
“I've never seen this.”
Rachel whispered, “That's you?”
“Yes.”
Memory struck.
Not clearly.
A room.
Olivia.
Her hand squeezing mine.
A voice saying:
You can still leave him.
I gasped.
Julian caught me.
“Claire?”
“I remember her.”
Daniel's sister.
Olivia.
“I remember Olivia.”
Not everything.
Just a flash.
But it was real.
She hadn't been a stranger.
She had been my friend.
Maybe the friend who tried to save me.
Samuel touched my hand.
The gesture was so small I nearly broke.
“You're crying.”
“I know.”
“Does your baby hurt?”
I looked at my stomach.
“No.”
“Then why?”
I crouched carefully.
“Because I lost something a long time ago.”
He considered that.
“Did you find it?”
I looked at him.
Before I could answer, Julian's phone rang.
Victor.
Julian answered.
“Where are you?”
Static.
Then Victor's strained voice.
“Don't use the main exit.”
Julian straightened.
“What happened?”
“Two men intercepted us.”
“Police?”
“No.”
“Where are you?”
“East concourse.”
A crash sounded through the phone.
Then the connection died.
Julian immediately turned toward Rachel.
“We need to move.”
He pointed toward a service corridor.
“This way.”
Rachel took Samuel's hand.
We moved quickly.
I struggled to keep pace.
Julian slowed for me.
“Don't.”
“What?”
“Slow down.”
“You're seven months pregnant.”
“And someone is following us.”
“Exactly.”
A sharp pain tightened across my abdomen.
I stopped.
Julian caught me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Claire.”
“Braxton Hicks.”
“You're sure?”
“No.”
That was not the answer he wanted.
Another tightening came.
Then passed.
“I'm okay.”
Samuel was watching.
I forced a smile.
“See?”
He didn't look convinced.
Neither did Julian.
We reached the service corridor.
A maintenance worker stepped out.
Julian stopped.
The man looked at us.
“Station's closing this section.”
Julian glanced at his badge.
Then grabbed Rachel's arm.
“Back.”
The worker reached inside his jacket.
Julian slammed him against the wall before he could pull anything out.
A black object hit the floor.
Not a gun.
A syringe.
Rachel screamed.
Samuel started crying.
Julian kicked the syringe away.
The man fought back.
I grabbed Samuel and pulled him behind me.
Rachel helped.
The worker shoved Julian into the wall.
Julian hit him once.
Hard.
The man dropped.
Julian grabbed his phone.
A message was open.
TARGETS MOVING EAST.
My photograph appeared beneath it.
And Rachel's.
And Samuel's.
Julian scrolled.
Another photograph.
Ethan.
Handcuffed.
Being placed into a police vehicle.
Another.
Adrian.
Another.
Daniel and Lucas.
Someone was tracking all of us.
“Who?” I asked.
Julian searched the messages.
Then stopped.
“What?”
He turned the phone toward me.
A contact name appeared above the conversation.
H.D.
Henri Duval.
My blood went cold.
“He's doing this?”
Julian's jaw tightened.
“Looks like it.”
Rachel whispered, “Why?”
I looked at Samuel.
“Because we're evidence.”
Julian searched the man's pockets.
He found a keycard.
A parking ticket.
And a folded document.
He opened it.
His expression changed.
“What is it?”
He handed it to me.
A DNA report.
SAMUEL REID.
PATERNAL MATCH: 99.98%.
I looked at the second name.
My heart stopped.
“No.”
Julian took the paper back.
He read it again.
“That can't be right.”
Rachel grabbed it.
Her face drained.
“Who is that?”
I couldn't answer.
Because the name wasn't Ethan Mercer.
It wasn't Julian Duval.
It was:
ADRIAN VALE.
Sabrina's last name.
My mind raced.
“Vale.”
Julian looked at me.
“Sabrina.”
Rachel whispered, “Who is Sabrina?”
Before I could answer, my phone rang.
Sabrina.
I answered immediately.
“Sabrina?”
She was crying.
“Claire, listen to me.”
“What happened?”
“The police took Ethan.”
“I know.”
“They searched his apartment.”
“And?”
“They found something.”
“What?”
She struggled to breathe.
“A birth certificate.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Whose?”
“Samuel's.”
The station seemed to disappear around me.
“What does it say?”
Sabrina started sobbing.
“Claire, Ethan isn't listed as the father.”
“I know.”
“What?”
“We just found a DNA report.”
Silence.
Then she whispered:
“Then you know.”
“Know what?”
“Adrian Vale.”
“Who is he?”
She stopped crying.
When she answered, her voice was almost empty.
“My father.”
Everything inside me froze.
Adrian Hart.
Adrian Vale.
Daniel had called him Adrian.
But Daniel's surname was Hart because Olivia was his sister.
Adrian wasn't their brother.
I had assumed.
Another lie.
Another connection.
“Sabrina.”
“I didn't know.”
“Where are you?”
“At Ethan's apartment.”
“Leave.”
“What?”
“Leave now.”
“Claire—”
“Someone is tracking everyone connected to Samuel.”
A sound came through the phone.
A doorbell.
Sabrina went silent.
“Are you expecting someone?”
“No.”
“Don't answer it.”
Another ring.
Then knocking.
Three times.
Slow.
Deliberate.
The same rhythm.
“Sabrina, get away from the door.”
I heard her moving.
Then a man's voice.
Muffled.
“Sabrina.”
She gasped.
I recognized it.
Adrian.
“That's my father.”
She ran toward the door.
“Sabrina, WAIT!”
Too late.
I heard the lock open.
Then silence.
“Sabrina?”
Nothing.
“Sabrina!”
A man's voice came through the phone.
Not Adrian.
Older.
Calm.
Familiar.
I had heard it at charity dinners.
On television interviews.
At the hospital fundraiser where Julian had supposedly met me by accident.
Henri Duval.
“Claire.”
Julian heard him.
His face went white.
Henri continued.
“You've been opening doors that Olivia died trying to keep closed.”
I gripped the phone.
“Where is Sabrina?”
“Safe for the moment.”
“And Samuel?”
A pause.
Then Henri laughed softly.
“You still think Samuel is the child you lost.”
I couldn't breathe.
“What are you talking about?”
Julian grabbed the phone.
“Father.”
Henri's voice changed.
“Julian.”
“Where are you?”
“Where this began.”
“Stop playing games.”
“This was never a game.”
“You stole Claire's baby.”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“Then who did?”
Silence.
Julian's face hardened.
“Who took her son?”
Henri finally answered.
“The same person who made sure Claire forgot she had ever been pregnant.”
My knees weakened.
“Who?”
Henri ignored me.
“Bring the hospital bracelet to Saint Catherine's old maternity wing.”
“That building is abandoned,” Julian said.
“Midnight.”
“If you hurt Sabrina—”
“She's not the one you should worry about.”
The call ended.
My phone immediately buzzed.
One new photograph.
A hospital room.
Sabrina sat in a chair.
Alive.
Terrified.
Behind her stood Adrian.
And beside Adrian was Ethan.
No handcuffs.
No police.
Free.
Julian stared.
“The arrest was staged.”
Another message arrived.
An address.
Saint Catherine's Hospital.
Old maternity wing.
Then one final line.
BRING CLAIRE ALONE.
I looked at Julian.
“No.”
He already knew what I was going to say.
“You're not going alone.”
“Samuel is here.”
Rachel tightened her arms around him.
I looked at the little boy.
The DNA report suddenly changed everything.
If Adrian was Samuel's biological father, then Samuel wasn't my lost baby.
Unless—
No.
I couldn't follow the thought.
Not yet.
I looked again at the photograph of myself standing pregnant beside Olivia.
There was something behind us.
A hospital board.
Two patient names.
Mine.
And another.
I enlarged the image.
CLAIRE BENNETT.
ELENA REYES.
My blood went cold.
Elena.
Lucas's mother.
The woman murdered tonight.
We had been patients together.
“Julian.”
He looked.
“What?”
I pointed at the photograph.
“Elena was there when I gave birth.”
His face changed.
My phone buzzed again.
A video.
Seven years old.
I pressed play.
Olivia appeared.
She was standing inside a hospital room.
Behind her, two newborn bassinets were visible.
She looked terrified.
“If anyone finds this, there were two babies.”
The video shook.
“One belonged to Claire.”
A noise sounded behind Olivia.
She turned.
Then looked back into the camera.
“And the other belonged to—”
The video cut off.
I stared at the black screen.
Julian whispered, “Claire.”
But I wasn't listening.
Because a new message had appeared beneath the video.
One sentence.
ELENA DIDN'T HAVE A SON.
Then another message arrived.
A photograph of Lucas.
May you like
Beneath it were four words.
ASK DANIEL WHO HE IS.
