Chapter 4 - My Dead Brother Was Alive and Working With the Woman Poisoning My Children—But His First Words to Me Explained Why He Had Let Everyone Believe He Was DeadThomas Mercer waited in an abandoned warehouse.
I entered alone.
He stood near a window.
Older.
Gray hair.
Scar across his jaw.
But unmistakable.
My brother.
“You're alive.”
“Yes.”
“You let me bury you.”
“Yes.”
I wanted to kill him.
I also wanted to hug him.
Instead, I stood there.
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“Because Dad wanted me dead.”
I froze.
Our father had died years ago.
Cancer.
At least, that was the official story.
Thomas explained.
Our father had been involved in biological research investments.
Not medicine.
Something darker.
Human experimentation.
He wanted to control the research.
Thomas discovered it.
He refused.
Our father tried to kill him.
Thomas disappeared.
Then Genevieve discovered the same network.
Thomas helped her.
He introduced her to Evelyn Carter.
Emma's mother.
Together, they gathered evidence.
Then Vera discovered them.
Thomas was forced into hiding.
Prescott joined them.
Genevieve couldn't disappear.
So Thomas helped stage his own death.
He watched from afar.
He didn't know Genevieve would die.
I stepped closer.
“You were alive when she died?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you save her?”
His face broke.
“I tried.”
“Not enough.”
“No.”
I believed his grief.
That didn't erase the betrayal.
“You knew about the twins.”
“Yes.”
“You knew someone was poisoning them.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because the enemy was inside your home.”
I thought of Prescott.
But Thomas shook his head.
“Not him.”
“Then who?”
“My father's partner.”
“Who?”
“Margaret Mercer.”
My mother's sister.
My aunt.
I stared.
“She died twenty years ago.”
“No.”
“She can't be.”
“She survived.”
Thomas explained.
Margaret had been working with our father.
She handled finances.
She built the network.
She had been the real mastermind.
Vera and Adrian worked for her.
The reason she had disappeared was simple.
She wanted to control the research without being associated with it.
She used family members.
Workers.
Hospitals.
Private companies.
She manipulated everyone.
Even my father.
I couldn't breathe.
“Where is she?”
Thomas shook his head.
“Close.”
“Where?”
“In your mansion.”
I froze.
Impossible.
We searched.
The answer came from the security system.
An old maintenance tunnel connected my house to an underground service structure.
Someone had been using it.
The cameras showed a woman entering the mansion at night.
We enhanced the footage.
Margaret.
Alive.
Standing beside my children's medical wing.
My blood went cold.
She had been in my house.
Watching my children.
Maybe for years.
I locked down the estate.
Everyone was screened.
The hunt began.
Then Lily's security monitor showed movement.
A woman entered the twins' room.
I ran.
When I arrived, no one was there.
But a small box sat beside Blythe's bed.
Inside—
a syringe.
A handwritten note:
TEN DAYS WAS GENEROUS.
I nearly lost control.
Emma took the note.
She read it.
Then stared at me.
“This isn't from Margaret.”
“How do you know?”
“My mother's handwriting.”
I froze.
“What?”
“She wrote it before she died.”
“What does it say?”
Emma turned the paper.
It was a warning.
Not from the enemy.
From Evelyn.
The person who appears to be saving you may be the one controlling the clock.
I looked at Dr. Yates.
He was outside.
He looked terrified.
Maybe too terrified.
Emma whispered:
“Someone has been using the illness to force you toward a decision.”
“What decision?”
“Your company.”
I understood.
The poison wasn't the final objective.
The twins were leverage.
They wanted me desperate enough to surrender my infrastructure.
Then they could use my empire for illegal operations.
I refused.
So they increased the pressure.
The next blood test showed worse results.
The doctors panicked.
Emma stared at the records.
“Wait.”
“What?”
She pointed.
“These aren't the twins' samples.”
“What?”
She compared labels.
Someone had switched them.
Jonah and Blythe's actual blood counts were improving.
The crisis had been manufactured through false records.
I stared.
“Then they're not dying?”
“No.”
I turned toward Dr. Yates.
He looked down.
He knew.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I was being watched.”
“By whom?”
He looked toward the ceiling.
Then whispered:
“Your aunt.”
We searched the house again.
Margaret was gone.
But she left a message.
A photograph.
Genevieve.
Thomas.
Prescott.
Emma's mother.
All together.
On the back:
YOU WERE ALL CHILDREN ONCE.
It meant nothing.
Until Thomas saw it.
“Our parents knew each other.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Before we were born.”
He explained.
Our parents had been part of the original research program.
The family itself had been selected.
We weren't victims randomly chosen.
We were part of a decades-old project.
Our genetics.
Our blood.
Our children.
It had been planned.
The twins were the next generation.
I felt sick.
“What does Margaret want?”
“Perfection.”
“For what?”
Thomas looked at me.
“To create a treatment that lets diseased cells regenerate normally.”
“That sounds good.”
“It could also make certain cells impossible to kill.”
My blood went cold.
Cancer resistance.
A biological revolution.
The twins had inherited the trait naturally.
Margaret wanted it.
The twins weren't sick.
They were valuable.
Someone had made them look sick to isolate them.
And now the clock was ticking.
Not toward death.
Toward extraction.
I ran to their room.
Jonah was awake.
“Dad?”
I knelt.
“You okay?”
He smiled.
“Better.”
Blythe opened her eyes.
“Can we go home?”
I swallowed.
“You're already home.”
She smiled.
I looked at Emma.
She nodded.
The truth was finally visible.
But we still had one problem.
Margaret had my children surrounded by people I had trusted for years.
May you like
And she knew my weakness.
Love.
Related Stories
