Chapter 5 - The Man at the Door Claimed to Be My Brother
The door opened.
A man walked inside.
He was younger than me.
Dark hair.
Green eyes.
A scar beneath his chin.
He looked at my father.
Then at me.
“You really don't know.”
I stepped forward.
“Who are you?”
“Caleb.”
“Caleb what?”
He smiled bitterly.
“Caleb Bellamy.”
My half-brother.
My father had kept another family.
Another son.
Another secret.
Maren moved behind me.
Caleb looked at the twins.
“They're beautiful.”
“You don't get to look at them.”
“They're my family too.”
“Where is my daughter?”
His expression changed.
“I don't know.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To warn you.”
“About what?”
“My mother.”
I froze.
“Your mother?”
He nodded.
“She isn't your mother.”
The room went silent.
“What?”
“My mother is the woman you call your mother.”
My mind rejected it.
“You're lying.”
“No.”
He handed me a photograph.
It showed my father with a woman I had never seen.
And a baby.
Me.
My father continued:
“I had you with Elena. Then I married Sofia because I needed access to the Bellamy trust.”
I stared at him.
My entire identity was unraveling.
“So Sofia raised me.”
“Yes.”
“But my biological mother—”
“Dead.”
I looked at the photograph.
The woman had the same eyes as me.
Caleb spoke softly.
“She died protecting you.”
I felt dizzy.
“How does this connect to Maren?”
Caleb looked at her.
“Because your mother hated her for discovering the truth.”
Maren stepped forward.
“What truth?”
“Your daughter wasn't taken because of the trust.”
“Then why?”
Caleb looked at me.
“Because she was born with a mark.”
I frowned.
“A mark?”
“Your father had a private genetic condition.”
My stomach tightened.
“It made certain Bellamy descendants valuable to people outside the family.”
“What people?”
Caleb said nothing.
My father answered.
“Researchers.”
Maren stared.
“What kind of researchers?”
“The kind who buy children.”
The room went cold.
The missing baby wasn't merely an inheritance.
She had been targeted because of a rare genetic trait.
Someone believed she could be used in an experimental program.
My mother had sold the information.
Tessa had helped.
And the hospital transfer had been part of a larger operation.
I felt rage unlike anything I had ever known.
“Where is the facility?”
Caleb shook his head.
“Closed.”
“Then where is she?”
“I told you. I don't know.”
“Who does?”
He looked at Maren.
She stepped closer.
“Tell him.”
Caleb swallowed.
“Your daughter was given to a family.”
“What family?”
“The Whitmores.”
Maren staggered.
“Tessa raised her?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Tessa's sister did.”
I remembered something.
A woman named Paige.
Tessa had mentioned her once.
A quiet sister who lived in Kentucky.
“Where?”
“Louisville.”
We drove through the night.
My father remained behind.
Caleb came with us.
Maren sat in the back beside the twins.
I kept looking at her in the rearview mirror.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“You don't have to be.”
She looked at me.
“You're still here.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Because I should have been here a year ago.”
She looked away.
We reached the address before dawn.
A large farmhouse.
Children's toys outside.
A woman answered.
Paige.
She saw Maren.
Then cried.
“Oh God.”
Maren pushed past her.
“Where is my daughter?”
Paige covered her face.
“She isn't here.”
“Where?”
“She was moved.”
“By whom?”
“Tessa.”
I stepped forward.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Why?”
“She found out you were looking.”
“Where did she take her?”
Paige shook her head.
“She didn't tell me.”
Maren began crying.
“She had a name?”
Paige whispered:
“Emma.”
My heart stopped.
The name felt like a knife.
“Emma Bellamy?”
“No.”
Paige looked at me.
“Emma Whitmore.”
Maren closed her eyes.
The baby had been living under another surname for more than a year.
Then Paige reached into a drawer.
She pulled out a child's bracelet.
A blue bead.
And one tiny letter engraved inside.
R.
My initial.
I stared.
“Where did she get this?”
“My sister gave it to her.”
“Why?”
Paige hesitated.
“She said the child had always worn it.”
Maren whispered:
“I put that bracelet around her wrist the day she was born.”
I took it.
For the first time, I held evidence that my daughter had survived.
Then Paige said something that changed everything.
“She wasn't the only child Tessa was hiding.”
“What?”
“There was another baby.”
Maren stared.
“Another?”
Paige nodded.
“A boy.”
My blood turned cold.
“What boy?”
“He had been listed as a stillbirth.”
Maren's face went white.
“That's impossible.”
Paige looked at me.
“He lived too.”
Three babies.
Two boys with us.
One girl missing.
And now a second hidden boy.
I felt sick.
“How many children did you have?”
Maren whispered:
“Triplets.”
May you like
Paige corrected her.
“Four.”
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