Chapter 2 - The Sister Who Never Existed
Adrian did not shout.
That frightened everyone more.
He stared at the photograph on the burner phone until the screen dimmed, then handed it to one of his men.
“Trace it.”
“We’re already trying.”
“Try harder.”
The guard left.
I stared at the picture.
My son.
Sleeping under his blue dinosaur blanket.
The angle had been taken from inside his bedroom.
Not through the window.
Not from the doorway.
Inside.
My knees weakened.
“Someone was in our apartment.”
Adrian looked at me.
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“That picture could be days old.”
“I would have noticed.”
“Clearly you didn’t.”
The words cut.
I looked at him.
He knew immediately he had gone too far.
His jaw tightened.
He turned away.
“I’m sorry.”
I almost laughed.
Adrian Blackwood had apologized to me perhaps twice in all the years I had known him.
Both times had involved blood.
Mercer broke the silence.
“We need to focus on Ethan.”
“Yes,” I said quickly.
He led us into a consultation room directly across from the trauma suite.
Through the glass, I could still see Ethan.
Mercer placed two genetic reports on the table.
“One is Ethan’s.”
He placed another beside it.
“The other belongs to Victor.”
Adrian did not sit.
“Explain the marker.”
Mercer drew a slow breath.
“Twelve years ago, Victor ordered me to remove references to a specific hereditary mutation from Blackwood family medical archives.”
“Why?”
“He believed someone was using it.”
“For what?”
“To identify members of the family.”
I stared at him.
“Like a biological tracking system?”
“More like a key.”
Adrian crossed his arms.
“A key to what?”
Mercer looked uncomfortable.
“Victor never told me.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
Mercer took another sheet from his case.
“I expect you to believe this.”
He slid it across the table.
A name appeared at the top.
ISABEL BLACKWOOD.
Adrian stared.
I had never seen his face look that empty.
“Who is Isabel?”
Mercer answered quietly.
“Your younger sister.”
“I never had a sister.”
“Your parents made sure you believed that.”
Adrian lifted his eyes.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Mercer looked toward Ethan’s room.
“Because Isabel had the same disorder Ethan has.”
My heart began beating faster.
“What happened to her?”
“She died.”
Adrian’s voice was flat.
“When?”
“When she was eight.”
He stared at Mercer.
“I was twelve.”
“Yes.”
“I would remember my own sister.”
“You did.”
Adrian’s brow tightened.
Mercer continued.
“You were told she was a cousin who stayed with your family.”
Something shifted in Adrian’s face.
A memory.
A girl.
I could see it happening.
“She had red shoes,” he said.
Mercer went silent.
Adrian stared at the wall.
“She hated milk.”
“Yes.”
“She slept in the east room.”
“Yes.”
His breathing changed.
“We were told she went back to Europe.”
Mercer said nothing.
Adrian looked at him.
“She died?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Mercer’s answer came slowly.
“The same way Ethan almost did today.”
My stomach dropped.
“Someone poisoned her?”
“We thought it was a natural episode.”
“You were wrong.”
“Yes.”
Adrian’s hands curled into fists.
“My father knew?”
“He suspected.”
“And then he erased her?”
“He erased the records to protect you.”
“Protect me from whom?”
Mercer looked down.
“That’s the part he never told me.”
Adrian moved toward the window.
I watched him.
I had feared Adrian for years.
I had imagined this reunion a thousand times.
In every version he was furious.
Never once had I imagined seeing him learn he had lost a sister.
I walked beside him.
“Did you really remember her?”
His eyes stayed on Ethan.
“Not as my sister.”
“What did you think she was?”
“A girl my mother took care of.”
His voice was barely audible.
“She used to follow me everywhere.”
Something inside me softened painfully.
“She must have loved you.”
He turned.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t make this easier.”
“I’m not.”
“You lied to me for seven years.”
“I know.”
“And now my son is in the same hospital condition as a sister I was forced to forget.”
“I know.”
His eyes sharpened.
“No. You don’t.”
I looked away.
He was right.
But so was I.
“You want to know why I ran?”
His expression changed.
“I already know why.”
“No. You know the version you gave yourself.”
He turned fully toward me.
“Then tell me.”
I had avoided this conversation for seven years.
Now Ethan lay bleeding ten yards away.
There was no room left for cowardice.
“The night I left, I heard you and your father arguing.”
“My father was already sick.”
“You were in his study.”
Adrian frowned.
“I remember.”
“He told you someone close to the family had betrayed him.”
Adrian’s face went still.
“How do you know that?”
“I was outside the door.”
“You were listening?”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
I swallowed.
“He said a child could be used against you.”
Adrian stared.
I continued.
“Two weeks later I found out I was pregnant.”
“And you thought my father meant your unborn child?”
“I didn’t know.”
“So you ran.”
“I went to tell you first.”
He frowned.
“You never came.”
“I did.”
His expression sharpened.
“What?”
“I came to the Blackwood house that night.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I reached the gates.”
“Then why didn’t you come inside?”
“Because one of your men stopped me.”
“Who?”
“I didn’t know his name.”
“Describe him.”
“Older. Gray hair. Scar near his right ear.”
Adrian’s expression darkened.
“Dominic Hale.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“He told me you already knew I was pregnant.”
Adrian stared at me.
“I didn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“What else did he say?”
“That you wanted the baby tested before you would acknowledge it.”
Adrian’s face changed.
“He said that?”
“Yes.”
“I would never—”
“I was twenty-four and terrified. Your father had just been attacked. Your house was surrounded by armed men. I believed him.”
Adrian paced once across the room.
“Dominic died six years ago.”
“Convenient.”
His eyes turned toward me.
“You think he was part of this?”
“I think someone wanted me gone.”
“And Ethan hidden.”
“Yes.”
A knock interrupted us.
One of Adrian’s security men entered.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“We traced the burner phone.”
“To where?”
“We didn’t.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“It pinged from inside this hospital.”
My skin went cold.
“Someone here?”
“Yes.”
“How close?”
The guard looked toward the corridor.
“Same floor.”
Adrian moved instantly.
“Lock every room.”
The hospital administrator protested from outside.
Adrian ignored him.
His guards began clearing offices one by one.
I rushed toward Ethan.
A nurse stopped me.
“You need protective clothing.”
“I’m his mother.”
“And he’s immunologically unstable.”
I let her cover me with a gown and gloves.
Then I entered.
The room sounded different from inside.
Machines louder.
Air colder.
Ethan looked tiny beneath the lights.
I touched his forehead.
“Hey, dinosaur man.”
His eyes opened slightly.
“Mom?”
“I’m right here.”
“Who’s the tall guy?”
I almost smiled.
“Which one?”
“The mad one.”
Adrian, standing outside the glass, heard through the intercom.
His expression shifted.
I whispered, “His name is Adrian.”
Ethan looked toward him.
“He looks like me.”
My chest tightened.
Children could see what adults spent years hiding.
“A little.”
“He looks more mad than me.”
Despite everything, I laughed softly.
Ethan’s lips moved.
“Is he my dad?”
The question stopped my heart.
I looked through the glass.
Adrian had gone completely still.
“Who told you?”
“No one.”
“Then why would you ask that?”
Ethan’s eyes drifted toward Adrian again.
“We have the same eyebrows.”
A tear escaped before I could stop it.
“Yes.”
Ethan blinked slowly.
“He is?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t I know?”
The question I had feared for seven years arrived when he barely had enough strength to stay awake.
“I was trying to keep you safe.”
“From him?”
I looked at Adrian.
His face was unreadable.
“From things around him.”
Ethan thought about that.
Then whispered, “He came.”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
Ethan’s eyes closed.
“Okay.”
His fingers tightened weakly around mine.
“Then maybe he’s not all bad.”
I lowered my head.
Outside, Adrian turned away.
I saw him wipe one hand across his mouth.
When I came out later, he was standing alone beside the window.
“He knows.”
“I heard.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For telling him?”
“For everything.”
Adrian studied me.
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Would you have told me if this never happened?”
I could not lie.
“I don’t know.”
He nodded once.
That answer hurt him.
I saw it.
Before either of us could speak, Mercer came toward us.
“His clotting numbers are improving.”
I exhaled.
“Thank God.”
“But we have another problem.”
Adrian frowned.
“What?”
“The synthetic compound is breaking down.”
“Isn’t that good?”
“It would be, except we need to identify it.”
“Why?”
“Because if whoever administered it tries again, we need an antidote.”
Adrian’s phone rang.
He checked the screen.
Unknown number.
He answered.
No greeting.
A distorted male voice came through.
“Did the boy survive?”
Adrian’s eyes became cold.
“Who is this?”
“You should ask your father.”
“My father is dead.”
A soft laugh.
“Victor Blackwood has been dead a long time. His secrets haven’t.”
Adrian looked at me.
“What do you want?”
“The boy.”
My blood turned to ice.
Adrian’s voice dropped.
“You will never touch him.”
“You misunderstand. Ethan isn’t valuable because he’s your son.”
“Then why?”
“Because he opened something.”
Adrian glanced at Mercer.
“What?”
“You’ll find out.”
The line disconnected.
Adrian immediately handed the phone to his technician.
“Trace it.”
The man connected a device.
Seconds passed.
Then he looked up.
“Signal bounced through five countries.”
“Origin?”
“Pasadena.”
I stared.
“That close?”
He nodded.
“Possibly within three miles.”
Adrian began issuing orders.
Cars.
Apartment security.
School records.
Traffic cameras.
I barely listened.
Something about the caller’s words bothered me.
Ethan opened something.
“What if he means the genetic alert?”
Mercer looked at me.
“What?”
“The caller said Ethan opened something.”
Adrian followed my thought.
“The protocol.”
Mercer’s expression changed.
“No.”
“What?”
He walked quickly toward the hospital computer.
“What is it?” Adrian demanded.
Mercer typed.
A hidden directory appeared.
BLACKWOOD ARCHIVE.
STATUS: LOCKED.
Beneath it:
BIOLOGICAL AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED.
Mercer stared.
“I’ve never seen this.”
Adrian moved beside him.
“What does it mean?”
Mercer pointed toward the screen.
“Victor built a secure archive into the hospital network.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“And Ethan’s blood?”
Mercer typed again.
A new line appeared.
AUTHORIZED DESCENDANT DETECTED.
ARCHIVE PARTIALLY UNLOCKED.
My skin prickled.
Ethan had not just triggered a medical alert.
His blood had activated something Victor Blackwood had hidden twelve years earlier.
Adrian clicked the archive.
A password screen appeared.
One file was visible.
ISABEL.
He opened it.
A video loaded.
The image showed Victor Blackwood sitting behind a desk.
Older.
Ill.
Alive.
Adrian stared at his dead father.
The recording began.
“If you are seeing this, then another child inherited the marker.”
Adrian leaned closer.
Victor continued.
“And if that child is yours, Adrian, then I failed.”
I looked at Adrian.
His face had gone pale.
Victor’s recorded voice lowered.
“Do not trust anyone who tells you Isabel died because of her blood.”
The screen flickered.
“She died because someone needed her blood to open the first vault.”
Adrian whispered, “What vault?”
Victor stared into the camera.
“And now that your child has opened the second one, they will come for him.”
The video ended.
No one moved.
Then a soft electronic beep came from Ethan’s room.
The door-lock indicator turned from green to red.
Adrian looked toward the glass.
A nurse inside Ethan’s room suddenly lifted her head.
I did not recognize her.
She reached toward Ethan’s IV line.
Adrian ran.
The trauma-room door would not open.
He slammed his hand against the glass.
“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”
May you like
The woman looked directly at us.
Then she smiled.
