Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Stole a Father’s Future
Spencer broke every speed limit between the burning apartment building and Warren House.
Casey followed in an unmarked county vehicle with Charlee beside her, while two police cruisers raced behind them. Spencer called Mrs. Mabel repeatedly, but after the first message, she stopped answering.
The mansion gates stood open when they arrived.
That alone confirmed something was wrong.
The gates were programmed to close automatically after every vehicle. Their manual controls required encrypted authorization from the security room.
Spencer abandoned his car at the front steps and ran inside.
“Mabel!”
No answer.
The entrance hall was empty. A vase had shattered beside the staircase. One of Mrs. Mabel’s shoes lay near the first landing.
Spencer drew the licensed handgun he kept in a biometric lockbox inside the foyer. He had not fired a weapon outside a practice range in years, but his hands remained steady.
Behind him, an officer ordered Charlee to stay outside.
She refused.
“Dexter is up there.”
Casey held her back. “Let the police go first.”
Spencer climbed the stairs with two officers. The nursery door stood slightly open. Warm light spilled through the gap, and the white-noise machine continued playing a soft rainfall recording.
The crib was empty.
Spencer’s heart stopped.
Then a faint cry came from the adjoining dressing room.
He entered and found Mrs. Mabel on the floor, conscious but disoriented. Dexter was hidden beneath a pile of blankets inside the lower section of a wardrobe.
“Mabel.”
Spencer knelt beside her.
She had a bruise on her temple and one wrist twisted at an unnatural angle.
“He wore a mask,” she whispered. “He came through the service passage. I moved the baby before he saw me.”
“Did he take anything?”
“The letter.”
Jocelyn’s original letter was gone.
Spencer lifted Dexter carefully. The newborn quieted almost immediately against his chest.
Charlee rushed into the room despite Casey’s protests. When she saw the baby, she began to sob with relief.
Mrs. Mabel was transported to the hospital. Doctors confirmed a fractured wrist and mild concussion but no life-threatening injuries.
By dawn, Warren House was filled with police investigators, forensic technicians, county officials, and private security personnel whom Spencer hired from outside the existing estate team.
Grant Lowell had disappeared.
His phone was found inside the security office. His car remained in the garage. His bedroom had been emptied of personal belongings.
Conrad did not answer calls.
Spencer gathered everyone he still trusted inside the library: Casey, Nathan Cole, Pamela Ortiz, and Detective Elena Ruiz, the lead investigator assigned by the district attorney’s office.
The recovered flash drive from Lydia’s music box was encrypted. Pamela believed she might know the password because Lydia had used a clinic record format, but several attempts failed.
The paper documents were easier to understand.
They showed that Spencer’s genetic samples had been accessed on four occasions over twelve years. One access corresponded to Pamela’s unauthorized procedure involving Jocelyn. The other three had occurred much earlier, including one only months after Spencer’s surgery.
“Were children created from those transfers?” Spencer asked.
Pamela stared at the records. “I don’t know.”
“That answer is no longer acceptable.”
“I wasn’t director then. The clinic changed ownership twice. Some files were digitized improperly.”
“Someone stole pieces of my identity and may have created children without my knowledge.”
Pamela’s eyes filled with shame. “I understand.”
“No. You don’t.”
Charlee sat in a chair beside the fireplace, holding Dexter while a nurse supervised. Spencer lowered his voice, but the damage had already been done. Pamela’s decision had changed all their lives.
Detective Ruiz placed several bank statements across the desk.
“These payments came from a shell company called Vale Strategic Holdings. Funds were transferred to a Halcyon administrator named Dr. Bernard Kline.”
Pamela stiffened. “Kline supervised the genetic storage wing.”
“Where is he now?”
“He died three years ago.”
“Convenient,” Spencer said.
Ruiz continued. “The shell company also paid Grant Lowell monthly consulting fees beginning eighteen months ago.”
“So Grant worked for Conrad.”
“Possibly. But we need proof linking Conrad to the attack, the fire, and the baby’s abandonment.”
Nathan held up a trust document.
“We may have motive. Under your father’s succession clause, Conrad becomes controlling trustee if you die without a verified biological heir.”
“But I’m alive,” Spencer said.
Nathan looked at Dexter.
“For now. However, Jocelyn’s letter suggests she believed someone was targeting the child. It’s possible Dexter’s existence threatened a plan already in motion.”
Pamela covered her face briefly.
“I need to tell you everything.”
Spencer stared at her.
“A year ago, Jocelyn came to me after three failed fertility treatments,” Pamela said. “She had a rare condition and limited time. She had also recently ended a relationship with someone powerful and controlling. She refused to name him, but she said he monitored her accounts and followed her.”
“Why use my genetic material?”
“She found your name in an old confidential file while working on a charity technology project for Halcyon. She knew your samples remained stored. She admired you.”
“Admiration is not consent.”
“I know.”
“Did she know I was the donor?”
“Yes.”
Spencer’s expression turned cold.
Pamela continued quickly. “She said she would tell you after the baby was born. I refused at first. Then she showed me evidence that your sample account had already been accessed illegally. She believed using one verified sample might expose the larger theft.”
“So Dexter was part of an investigation?”
“No. She genuinely wanted the child. But she also believed someone had been using Halcyon to create biological leverage over wealthy families.”
Detective Ruiz leaned forward. “Explain.”
Pamela took a breath. “Embryos, donor samples, falsified parentage records. Imagine being able to produce a biological heir, hide one, or reveal one at the exact moment it could affect an inheritance, divorce, corporate succession, or political career.”
The room went silent.
Spencer looked at Dexter.
The baby was not only his son.
He might have been created within a criminal system designed to turn children into weapons.
“Who was Jocelyn’s controlling former partner?” Ruiz asked.
“I don’t know.”
Charlee spoke from the fireplace.
“She called him Mr. C.”
Everyone turned.
“How do you know Jocelyn?” Spencer asked gently.
“I saw her with Grandma.”
“When?”
“A few weeks ago. She came to our apartment at night. She was crying and holding her stomach. Grandma told me to stay in the bedroom, but I listened through the wall.”
“What did she say?”
“She said Mr. C knew about the baby. She said he wanted her to sign papers.”
“Could Mr. C have been Conrad?”
Charlee thought carefully. “She said he had pictures of my mother.”
Spencer exchanged a look with Casey.
Jocelyn had known Florence and Lydia. That meant Dexter’s appearance at Warren House was not random. Jocelyn had somehow become connected to the hidden Warren daughter and the evidence Lydia left behind.
“Did Jocelyn leave anything?” Spencer asked.
“A key.”
Charlee reached beneath the collar of her dress and pulled out a small brass key hanging from a string.
“Grandma told me never to show it unless I found someone with the same eyes as my mother.”
Spencer stared at her.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I didn’t know if you were good.”
“And now?”
She glanced toward Dexter in her arms.
“You came back through the fire.”
The key belonged to a safe-deposit box at First Pinecrest Bank. Because the box was registered under Florence’s name, they needed her authorization. From her hospital bed, Florence signed the necessary documents.
Inside the box was a second flash drive, a photograph, and a handwritten journal belonging to Jocelyn.
The photograph showed Jocelyn standing beside Lydia almost eight years earlier. Behind them was Conrad Vale.
The journal contained months of entries detailing Jocelyn’s growing suspicion that Conrad had been manipulating Halcyon’s records. She had met Lydia while both were working temporary contracts for organizations connected to the Warren Foundation. After Lydia’s death, Jocelyn continued investigating quietly.
Then Jocelyn became pregnant.
At first, she believed only Pamela knew.
But during her seventh month, she found a photograph of herself asleep inside her locked apartment. The picture had been placed on her kitchen table beside a blank guardianship form.
The final journal entry was written three days before Dexter appeared.
Conrad knows. Grant is watching the house. Pamela thinks I should go to the police, but I no longer know whom to trust. Florence agreed to help me reach Spencer. If something happens, Charlee knows the way through the broken wall. I hate involving a child, but children are invisible to men who only notice power. Dexter must reach his father. Spencer may hate me for what I did, but he will protect his son.
Beneath the entry, Jocelyn had written an address.
Detective Ruiz recognized it as an old lakeside property owned by a Warren subsidiary.
They drove there that afternoon.
The cabin appeared abandoned. Dust covered the furniture, but recent tire tracks marked the driveway. Inside, they found blood on the kitchen floor, a torn hospital wristband bearing Jocelyn’s name, and a nursery prepared for a newborn.
No body.
No Jocelyn.
On the bedroom wall, someone had written a message in black marker.
THE WRONG HEIR SURVIVED.
Pamela stared at the words in horror.
Then Spencer noticed a small camera mounted above the door.
Its red light was blinking.
Someone was watching them.
Detective Ruiz ordered everyone outside. Officers searched the surrounding woods while technicians disconnected the camera.
As Spencer carried Dexter toward the vehicles, his phone rang from an unknown number.
He answered.
A distorted male voice spoke.
“You should have left the child where he belonged.”
Spencer’s grip tightened around the phone.
“Where is Jocelyn?”
“You’ve spent your life believing your father stole your future. You still don’t understand. He was trying to protect the Warren bloodline.”
“Conrad.”
The caller laughed softly.
“Bring Lydia’s evidence to the old conservatory tomorrow at midnight. Come alone, or the boy’s mother dies.”
The call ended.
Spencer looked toward the dark windows of the cabin.
Behind one of them, he thought he saw a shadow move.
Then a rifle shot shattered the windshield of the police vehicle beside him.
Officers dragged Spencer and Dexter to the ground.
A second shot struck the tree above Pamela’s head.
The woods erupted with shouting.
The shooter vanished before police reached the ridge.
But beneath the tree from which the shots had been fired, investigators found a single silver cuff link engraved with the initials C.V.
It looked like proof.
Spencer knew better.
Conrad never wore monogrammed cuff links.
May you like
Someone wanted the police to find it.
And that meant there might be more than one traitor.
