Chapter 9 - The Second Child of Hawthorne
The photograph slipped from the doctor's hand.
It landed on the floor between us.
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
I stared at the image.
Two babies.
Two bracelets.
Two names.
One was mine.
The other one was crossed out.
My eyes moved to the words underneath.
Subject Elena Hawthorne — Original.
My stomach twisted.
Original.
The word felt wrong.
Like I was a copy of something.
Like my entire life had been built on a replacement.
"What does that mean?"
My voice sounded small.
The doctor didn't answer.
He looked at Charles.
That was when I knew.
Everyone in this room knew something I didn't.
Again.
Charles stepped forward.
"Give me the photograph."
The doctor immediately backed away.
"No."
Everyone looked at him.
It was the first time someone had openly refused Charles Hawthorne.
The old man's face became cold.
"Doctor Ellis."
The doctor swallowed.
"I can't do this anymore."
My mother looked at him.
"You promised."
His eyes filled with guilt.
"I promised your daughter I would protect her."
My heart stopped.
"My daughter?"
He looked at me.
Not at my mother.
At me.
"I was there the night you were born."
The room became silent.
I looked at my mother.
She was crying.
Not because of sadness.
Because she knew this moment had finally arrived.
"Tell me."
The doctor looked down.
"I was the physician assigned to the Hawthorne family."
He paused.
"Twenty-five years ago."
I frowned.
"Twenty-five?"
He nodded.
"You were born earlier than the records show."
I shook my head.
"No."
He looked at Charles.
"Your grandfather changed the records."
Charles didn't deny it.
That terrified me more.
"Why?"
The doctor looked at me.
"Because you weren't the only baby born that night."
My blood went cold.
The room disappeared.
I only heard those words.
Not the only baby.
My mother closed her eyes.
Adrian whispered:
"No."
The doctor continued.
"Your mother gave birth to twins."
I stared.
Twins.
The word echoed.
"I don't have a twin."
The doctor looked at the photograph.
"You did."
A silence followed.
Then I looked at Charles.
"What happened?"
His face remained unreadable.
But his silence was an answer.
My mother gripped my hand.
"Elena."
I looked at her.
"Tell me."
She cried quietly.
"The other baby was taken."
My breath caught.
"Why?"
Nobody spoke.
Then Adrian answered.
"Because Charles believed one child was more valuable than the other."
I looked at him.
"What does that mean?"
He looked ashamed.
"My family had a tradition."
I almost laughed.
"A tradition?"
He nodded.
"They believed certain bloodlines had to continue."
I looked at Charles.
"You chose?"
Charles looked at me.
"I made a decision."
The anger inside me exploded.
"You stole a child."
"I saved the future of this family."
"You stole someone's life."
His expression hardened.
"You have no idea what was at stake."
"No."
I stepped closer.
"I know exactly what was at stake."
I pointed at myself.
"Me."
Charles stared.
For the first time, I saw something different.
Not power.
Not control.
Fear.
He was afraid of something.
But what?
My mother squeezed my hand.
"Elena."
Her voice trembled.
"Your sister survived."
I froze.
The room went completely silent.
"My sister?"
My mother nodded.
"She was taken away."
"Where?"
Nobody answered.
I looked at Charles.
"Where?"
He remained silent.
That silence destroyed something inside me.
Because I knew.
He knew.
And he had always known.
The doctor picked up the photograph.
"She wasn't supposed to survive."
My eyes moved toward him.
"Who?"
He looked at me.
"Your sister."
A cold feeling moved through my body.
"Why?"
The doctor hesitated.
Then whispered:
"Because Charles didn't want two heirs."
The machines beside my mother started beeping faster.
She looked toward the door.
Fear appeared on her face.
"What?"
Adrian noticed too.
"Something is wrong."
The hallway outside became loud.
Footsteps.
Many footsteps.
Charles turned.
A small smile appeared.
Not kindness.
Relief.
"You should have listened to me."
My mother looked at him.
"What did you do?"
Charles didn't answer.
The door opened.
A group of security guards entered.
But they weren't looking at Adrian.
They weren't looking at my mother.
They were looking at me.
One guard stepped forward.
"Take her."
I backed away.
"No."
Adrian moved immediately.
The guards raised their weapons.
Charles spoke calmly.
"Nobody hurts her."
Everyone stopped.
I looked at him.
"Then what do you want?"
Charles stared at me.
"I want you to meet your sister."
My heart stopped.
The room went silent.
"What?"
Charles looked toward the hallway.
"Bring her in."
My mother started shaking.
"No."
Charles looked at her.
"You wanted the truth."
Then he looked at me.
"Now she can see it."
The guards moved aside.
A woman appeared in the doorway.
At first, I only saw her silhouette.
Then she stepped into the light.
And my entire body froze.
She looked like me.
Not similar.
Not close.
Me.
The same eyes.
The same face shape.
The same scar near her eyebrow.
The same age.
The same expression.
She stared at me.
I stared back.
Nobody spoke.
Then she whispered:
"I've been waiting twenty-five years to meet you."
My mouth opened.
No words came.
My mother began crying.
Adrian looked completely broken.
Because he recognized her.
"Elena..."
I looked at him.
"Which one?"
He couldn't answer.
The woman in the doorway stepped closer.
Her eyes never left mine.
Then she reached into her coat.
She pulled out an old hospital bracelet.
The same kind from the photograph.
She turned it around.
A name was written on it.
Not hers.
Not mine.
A name I had never seen before.
Then she said:
"That's the name they gave me after they erased you."
I stared at the bracelet.
Because underneath the faded letters...
Was my mother's handwriting.
May you like
And three words that made my blood run cold.
Find your sister.
