Chapter 3 - The Second Child
The name was Noah Bennett.
Age nine.
I read it again.
“Who is Noah?”
Anna started to answer.
A door opened behind her.
A boy stood there.
Thin.
Bald beneath a knitted cap.
Nine years old.
He looked at Lily.
Then at me.
And I saw Rachel’s eyes.
Not similar.
Not vaguely familiar.
Rachel’s exact gray-blue eyes.
“Mom?” he said.
Anna rose quickly.
“Noah, you should be resting.”
I couldn’t move.
Lily walked to him.
“They found out.”
Noah looked frightened.
“You told him?”
“I had to.”
The children knew each other.
That realization landed almost as hard as everything else.
“How long?”
My mother understood.
“Three months.”
“You’ve brought Lily here for three months?”
“Yes.”
“And nobody thought her father should know?”
“Rachel asked—”
“Stop using Rachel to justify things Rachel isn’t here to explain.”
Anna flinched.
I regretted the cruelty immediately.
But anger had become the only thing holding me upright.
“Who is Noah?”
“My son.”
“Who is his father?”
Anna’s silence answered before her words did.
“I don’t know.”
I stared.
“He was conceived through a donor.”
The old man introduced himself at last.
Dr. Samuel Bennett.
Anna and Rachel’s maternal uncle.
A retired hematologist.
The property was not a secret clinic, as I had feared. It was a private residence with a small medical suite where Noah stayed between hospital treatments because Anna wanted him away from reporters and curiosity.
“Reporters?”
Anna gave me a tired smile.
“You really don’t know who I am.”
I didn’t.
That was apparently the point.
Anna Bennett had spent fifteen years avoiding the Mercer name and everything connected to it.
She was a research scientist.
She had worked for a biotechnology company my investment group acquired six years earlier.
The acquisition had destroyed the project she had spent a decade developing.
I remembered the deal.
I did not remember her.
“Rachel knew?”
“Yes.”
“And she never told me?”
“She begged me not to hate you for it.”
That sentence hit.
I sat.
For the first time since entering the building, I listened.
Anna told me about two sisters separated by divorce.
Rachel went with their mother.
Anna remained with her father.
Years passed.
Their mother discouraged contact.
By adulthood, they had found each other again.
Secretly.
When Rachel discovered she had a genetic condition that made using her own eggs medically dangerous, Anna volunteered.
Rachel had intended to tell me.
Then fear intervened.
Not fear that I would reject Lily.
Fear that I would treat Anna like a legal problem.
That sounded unfair.
Then I remembered the man I had been eight years earlier.
Maybe it wasn’t.
“What does Noah need?”
Dr. Bennett answered.
“A stem-cell transplant.”
“And Lily?”
“May be a match.”
“May?”
“Initial blood typing suggests compatibility. Nothing more has happened.”
“You took blood from her without my consent.”
My mother looked ashamed.
“I signed.”
“You are not her legal guardian.”
“I know.”
“You could have asked me.”
“I was afraid you’d say no before listening.”
“You were right.”
Lily’s face crumpled.
I saw it.
I immediately corrected myself.
“I mean I would have said no to doing anything without understanding it.”
She relaxed slightly.
“Can I help Noah?”
I looked at the boy.
He was trying not to look scared.
That destroyed me.
Children shouldn’t have to become experts at hiding fear.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Grandma says I might save him.”
My eyes snapped toward Evelyn.
“That was not yours to put on her.”
“I told her she might help.”
“She’s seven.”
“I know.”
“No. You forgot.”
My mother lowered her head.
Lily touched my hand.
“I want to help.”
I squeezed her fingers.
“You don’t have to decide anything today.”
“But Noah—”
“Will have doctors taking care of him while we figure out what’s safe.”
Dr. Bennett nodded.
“That is reasonable.”
I turned toward him.
“You should have insisted on parental consent.”
“I did.”
“Apparently not hard enough.”
He accepted that.
My phone vibrated.
My assistant.
Then again.
And again.
I looked.
Seven missed calls.
One message.
DANIEL, CALL ME NOW. CHICAGO KNOWS YOU NEVER BOARDED.
That made no sense.
The meeting had been private.
Only six people knew my itinerary.
Then another message arrived.
A photograph.
Me entering the gate thirty minutes earlier.
Taken from outside.
Someone had followed me.
I walked to the window.
No vehicle.
No movement.
But whoever had taken the photograph knew where we were.
Anna saw my face.
“What happened?”
I showed her.
She went pale.
“Who knows about this place?”
“Almost nobody.”
My mother moved toward Lily.
I called security.
“Lock down my house. Send two cars to my location.”
“Sir, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Another photograph appeared.
This one showed Lily leaving my house with Evelyn.
Timestamped 12:47.
Then another.
Noah through a hospital window.
Anna whispered, “Oh God.”
A final message arrived.
No photograph.
Only six words.
YOU SHOULD HAVE TAKEN THE FLIGHT, DANIEL.
Then someone knocked on the front door.
Three slow knocks.
Dr. Bennett looked at me.
“No one is expected.”
May you like
The knock came again.
And this time, a man outside called my daughter’s name.
