PART 4 — THE KEY BENEATH HER BED
The blue jewelry case was gone.
For several seconds, I couldn’t hear anything except the blood pounding in my ears.
David stared at me.
Peter stared at me.
And Daniel’s voice was still coming faintly through the speaker of Chloe’s phone.
“Sarah?”
I swallowed.
“The key isn’t there anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Daniel asked.
“The jewelry case. It was under Chloe’s bed. It’s gone.”
Silence.
Then Daniel said one word.
“Run.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Get out of David’s apartment. Right now.”
Peter immediately moved toward the window.
“Why?”
Daniel’s voice sharpened.
“Because if the case is missing, Richard knows where the key was.”
Peter looked at David.
“How would Richard know that?”
Nobody answered.
Then all three of us looked at David.
He went pale.
“No.”
I stared at him.
“No what?”
“I never told Richard where Sarah kept it.”
Daniel laughed bitterly through the phone.
“You didn’t have to.”
“What does that mean?”
“He had your apartment searched because he already knew you had failed.”
David clenched his jaw.
“I don’t work for him anymore.”
Daniel answered instantly.
“You worked for him long enough.”
I stepped toward David.
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing about the key.”
“Then what did you tell him?”
David looked at me.
“I told him I believed you no longer had it.”
“You believed?”
“When I first searched your old apartment years ago, I couldn’t find it.”
The words hit me so hard that for a moment I forgot to breathe.
“You searched my apartment?”
His eyes closed.
“Before we were married.”
“When?”
“After our third date.”
I actually stepped backward.
Peter muttered something under his breath.
Daniel said nothing.
I stared at David.
“You went through my apartment while I trusted you enough to leave you alone there?”
“I was told the key was dangerous.”
“You were told to steal it.”
“Yes.”
“And when you couldn’t find it?”
“I kept seeing you.”
My laugh came out broken.
“You mean you kept investigating me.”
“At first.”
“At first?”
“Sarah—”
“No. Finish that sentence.”
He looked directly at me.
“At first, yes. I kept seeing you because Richard wanted me close to you.”
“And later?”
“Later I fell in love with you.”
I wanted to slap him.
Not because I didn’t believe he had loved me.
Because some terrible part of me did.
That was what made it worse.
Sixteen years of marriage had suddenly split into two versions.
The life I remembered.
And the life David had secretly been living underneath it.
Daniel’s voice came through the phone again.
“Sarah, this conversation can wait.”
I turned toward the phone.
“Why?”
“Because you have maybe five minutes before they reach that apartment.”
Peter looked sharply toward the hallway.
“How do you know?”
“Because Richard’s people found me at Mia’s house.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“I’m leaving now. Chloe and Mia are safe inside.”
“Are you sure?”
“I called the police anonymously before I approached.”
“You approached my daughter?”
“I needed you to answer.”
“You could have called me.”
“I didn’t have your number.”
A crash sounded through the speaker.
Then Chloe screamed.
“Mom!”
I grabbed the phone.
“Chloe!”
“I’m okay!”
Another crash.
Daniel cursed.
Then I heard tires squealing.
“What happened?”
“They found me.”
“Who?”
“A black SUV.”
Peter immediately moved toward the apartment door.
“We need to go.”
Daniel’s breathing became heavier.
“They’re turning around.”
David grabbed the laptop and yanked the flash drive free.
“Use the stairs.”
Peter shook his head.
“No. If they know the building, they’ll cover the garage.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Roof.”
I stared at him.
“Roof?”
“There’s an adjacent parking structure. We cross over.”
“You expect me to jump between buildings?”
“It’s not a jump. There’s a maintenance bridge.”
“Why do you know that?”
“I checked the building before David rented here.”
I looked at David.
“You had your investigator inspect your apartment building?”
David shoved the flash drive into his pocket.
“I was already being followed.”
Peter opened the door.
“Argue later.”
We ran.
I didn’t even grab my purse.
My phone was still connected to Chloe.
“Sweetheart, listen carefully.”
“I’m listening.”
“Stay inside with Mrs. Lawson. Lock every door. Don’t go near the windows.”
“What about Daniel?”
Daniel’s voice came faintly from somewhere outside.
“I’m still here.”
Then another voice shouted.
A stranger.
“Mercer!”
Daniel cursed.
The call abruptly ended.
“Daniel?”
Nothing.
“Daniel!”
The line was dead.
I stopped in the stairwell.
David grabbed my arm.
“We have to move.”
“My daughter is there!”
“And the police are coming.”
“We don’t know that!”
Peter looked down the stairwell.
“Someone just entered below us.”
Footsteps echoed upward.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Not running.
Searching.
Peter whispered, “Roof. Now.”
We climbed.
Five floors.
Six.
Seven.
My lungs burned.
My knees were still bruised from hiding beneath Chloe’s bed that morning.
By the ninth floor, I could barely breathe.
David pushed open the rooftop access door.
Cold wind hit us.
Peter pointed across the roof.
“There.”
A narrow metal walkway connected the apartment building to the top level of a neighboring parking garage.
It was probably six feet wide.
It looked six inches wide.
We hurried toward it.
Then the rooftop door slammed open behind us.
“Stop!”
Peter spun around.
A man in a dark jacket emerged.
Another followed.
Neither looked like police.
David shoved me toward the bridge.
“Go!”
We ran.
I heard footsteps behind us.
Peter reached the parking structure first.
I was halfway across when a hand grabbed my coat.
I screamed.
David slammed into whoever had caught me.
The man fell against the railing.
For one horrifying second, David almost went over with him.
“David!”
He caught the rail.
Peter rushed back and pulled him upright.
The second man was already crossing.
Peter grabbed a fire extinguisher mounted near the parking structure door and sprayed the bridge.
White powder exploded across the metal.
The man covered his face, slipped, and dropped to one knee.
“Move!”
We ran down the parking ramp.
“Where’s your car?” I asked.
Peter pointed.
“Gray sedan. Level six.”
We were on eight.
We sprinted downward.
Behind us, someone shouted into a radio.
“They’re going down!”
My phone rang.
Chloe.
I answered immediately.
“Are you okay?”
“We’re okay.”
“Police?”
“They just got here.”
Relief almost made my legs collapse.
“Stay with them.”
“Mom, Daniel’s gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“The black SUV chased him.”
“Did police see it?”
“I think so.”
Then Chloe said something that froze me.
“Mom, somebody left something at the front door.”
“Do not touch it.”
“The police already picked it up.”
“What is it?”
“A blue box.”
I stopped running.
David nearly crashed into me.
“What?”
I put the phone on speaker.
“Chloe, describe it.”
“It’s small. Dark blue. There are gold flowers on the top.”
My jewelry case.
Peter looked at David.
David looked at me.
I whispered, “The case is at Mia’s house.”
Chloe continued.
“The officer opened it.”
My chest tightened.
“Is there a key inside?”
“No.”
Of course there wasn’t.
“What is inside?”
“A note.”
“What does it say?”
I heard paper rustling.
Then Chloe read.
“Sarah already gave us what we needed fifteen years ago.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
Chloe continued.
“There’s more.”
“Read it.”
“Ask her what was inside the red envelope.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
Red envelope.
I remembered nothing.
Then suddenly I did.
Daniel’s last visit.
Rain against my apartment windows.
His nervous smile.
The silver key.
And a red envelope.
He had handed me both.
I had forgotten the envelope because I had opened it immediately.
Inside had been—
My breath disappeared.
Photographs.
Not documents.
Photographs.
“What was inside it?” David asked.
I looked at him.
“Pictures.”
“What pictures?”
“I thought they were meaningless.”
“Of what?”
“A laboratory.”
Daniel had told me he was thinking about changing careers.
He said the photographs were from a consulting job.
Hallways.
Machines.
Stacks of sample trays.
I barely looked at them.
Then I remembered one image.
A close-up photograph of dozens of newborn identification cards.
Each card had a number.
A hospital.
A mother’s name.
And a date.
David stared at me.
“What else?”
“There was a list.”
“What list?”
“Names.”
Peter stepped closer.
“Do you remember any?”
“No.”
“Think.”
“I said I don’t remember!”
My voice echoed through the parking structure.
Then a name surfaced.
Not because I remembered reading it.
Because I remembered laughing at it.
Harlan.
I had joked that one of the names sounded like the villain in a television drama.
Richard Harlan.
I whispered his name.
David went still.
“Richard was on the list.”
Peter looked grim.
“Then Daniel gave you evidence.”
“I threw it away.”
Everyone stared at me.
“What?” David asked.
“I thought it was junk.”
“Where?”
“In the dumpster behind my apartment.”
Daniel had told me not to throw it away.
I had promised I wouldn’t.
Then two weeks after our breakup, angry and determined to move on, I had cleaned out everything connected to him.
Photographs.
Letters.
The red envelope.
Everything.
Except the silver key.
Because the key had fallen behind the lining of my jewelry case.
I had found it months later and simply left it there.
Peter whispered, “Maybe Richard found the envelope.”
“How?”
David answered.
“Because I told him Sarah had thrown away Daniel’s belongings.”
I stared at him.
“You told him?”
“Years ago.”
“You were still reporting to him?”
David didn’t answer.
My anger exploded.
“How long?”
“Sarah—”
“How long did you report on me?”
His voice cracked.
“Eleven months.”
My heart broke in a place I didn’t know could still break.
“Eleven months after we met?”
“Yes.”
“After we became serious?”
“Yes.”
“After you told me you loved me?”
His eyes filled with something that looked like shame.
“Yes.”
I looked away.
Peter interrupted.
“We need to move.”
He was right.
We reached his sedan.
He unlocked it.
Before getting inside, he checked beneath the vehicle.
“What are you doing?”
“Tracker.”
He ran his hand along the wheel well.
Nothing.
We climbed in.
Peter started the engine.
“Where are we going?”
“Not your house.”
“Mia’s.”
“No.”
“My daughter is there.”
“That’s exactly why we don’t go there.”
I grabbed his shoulder.
“I am not abandoning Chloe.”
“Police are with her.”
“For now.”
David spoke from the back seat.
“We need to figure out what the key opens.”
Peter nodded.
“Agreed.”
I turned toward him.
“The jewelry case is empty.”
“The key may not be.”
“What?”
“A specialized key can have markings.”
David shook his head.
“It was an ordinary silver key.”
“Did you photograph it?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
I could see it.
Small.
Silver.
Rectangular teeth.
A tiny stamped number near the top.
I had never paid attention to it.
“Thirty-seven.”
Peter looked at me in the mirror.
“What?”
“The key had a number.”
“What number?”
“37.”
Peter’s expression changed.
David noticed.
“What?”
Peter pulled the car into traffic.
“I found repeated references to thirty-seven in Daniel’s files.”
“What kind of references?”
“Account transfers. Storage records. Lab identifiers.”
“Which?”
“All of them.”
I frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
“It might if thirty-seven wasn’t a number.”
“What else could it be?”
“A designation.”
David leaned forward.
“Facility 37?”
Peter nodded.
“That’s what I thought.”
He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a folded map.
A paper map.
I almost laughed.
“You carry maps?”
“Phones can be tracked.”
He unfolded it across the center console at a stoplight.
A location had been circled near the industrial district east of Portland.
“What is that?”
“An abandoned medical storage facility owned by a shell company linked to Richard.”
My stomach turned.
“Facility 37?”
“Maybe.”
David frowned.
“You went there?”
“Twice.”
“And?”
“Locked.”
“With what kind of lock?”
Peter looked at me.
“Old mechanical cylinder.”
My skin prickled.
“The silver key.”
“Maybe.”
I looked at the clock.
It wasn’t even noon.
That morning I had hidden beneath my daughter’s bed because I thought she was skipping school.
Now I was sitting in an investigator’s car, being chased through Portland, holding evidence that my husband had originally entered my life under orders from a corrupt executive connected to my supposedly dead ex-boyfriend.
And somehow I knew the worst part was still waiting.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A text.
YOU WANT ANSWERS? COME TO 37.
Peter saw it.
“No.”
Another message appeared.
COME ALONE.
David laughed bitterly.
“Definitely no.”
Then a photograph arrived.
Chloe.
My daughter was sitting in what appeared to be the back seat of a car.
Her eyes were closed.
My scream filled the vehicle.
“No!”
Peter slammed on the brakes.
David grabbed my phone.
“That can’t be current.”
The timestamp said 11:42 a.m.
Two minutes ago.
I called Chloe.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
I called Mrs. Lawson.
She answered crying.
“Sarah!”
“Where is Chloe?”
“I don’t know!”
My entire body went cold.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“The police were here. Then an officer said they needed to take the girls somewhere safer.”
“What officer?”
“I thought he was with them!”
Peter turned pale.
“Ask for his name.”
“What was his name?”
“I don’t know. Reynolds? Robinson?”
“Did Chloe leave with him?”
“Yes.”
Mia too?”
“No. He said only Chloe was involved in the threat.”
I could barely breathe.
“Call 911 right now and tell them Chloe was taken.”
“I already am!”
I ended the call.
Another text arrived.
FACILITY 37.
ONE HOUR.
BRING DAVID.
That was different.
Not come alone.
Bring David.
I looked at him.
His face had changed.
He knew something.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What do they want with you?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“Sarah—”
“You always look away before you lie.”
He stared at me.
I had known him for sixteen years.
Maybe our marriage started with deception.
But I knew his face.
“What haven’t you told me?”
Peter glanced between us.
“David?”
David leaned back and closed his eyes.
“They don’t need the key.”
“What?”
“They already opened Facility 37 years ago.”
Peter turned.
“How do you know?”
“Because I was there.”
The car went silent.
I stared at him.
“When?”
“Sixteen years ago.”
Before he met me.
Before our first date.
Before he searched my apartment.
“Why?”
David’s voice became hollow.
“Richard sent me to remove evidence.”
Peter whispered, “Jesus.”
“What evidence?”
David looked at me.
“Genetic records.”
I remembered the photographs Daniel had given me.
Newborn cards.
Sample trays.
Laboratory machines.
“What genetic records?”
David swallowed.
“The company wasn’t just falsifying billing.”
I stared at him.
“What were they doing?”
“Changing test results.”
“What kind?”
“Paternity. Genetic disease. Identity testing.”
“Why?”
“Money. Blackmail. Lawsuits. Inheritance disputes. Whoever paid enough.”
Peter’s hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“Daniel discovered it.”
“Yes.”
“And Richard ordered you to destroy the evidence.”
“Yes.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“You worked for him then?”
“I handled corporate security.”
I almost didn’t recognize the man beside me.
“You told me you worked in risk consulting.”
“I did.”
“For Richard.”
“Yes.”
My voice dropped.
“Did you know Daniel?”
David hesitated.
That was enough.
“You knew him.”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
“Not well.”
“Did you help him disappear?”
“No.”
“Did you try to kill him?”
David’s head snapped toward me.
“No!”
Peter looked unconvinced.
I asked again.
“Did you?”
“No. Richard told me Daniel had stolen proprietary data. I was ordered to recover it.”
“And the car accident?”
“I wasn’t involved.”
“Do you know who was?”
“No.”
“Do you know why Daniel thinks you’re part of this?”
David looked down.
“Because I was.”
That answer hurt more than another denial.
He continued.
“I didn’t know everything then. But I knew enough to understand what I was doing wasn’t legal.”
“And you did it anyway.”
“Yes.”
I looked out the window because I couldn’t look at him anymore.
The city passed in a blur.
Peter broke the silence.
“If Richard wants David at Facility 37, it’s not to recover evidence.”
David nodded.
“He wants to eliminate everyone who can connect him to it.”
My phone buzzed again.
This time it was a video.
I opened it.
Chloe sat in a metal chair.
Her wrists weren’t tied, but a man stood behind her.
Only his torso was visible.
Then the camera shifted.
Daniel stepped into frame.
My heart stopped.
He wasn’t holding Chloe.
He was standing beside her.
Free.
Completely calm.
“Mom?” Chloe said.
“She’s okay,” Daniel said into the camera.
I stared at the screen.
Daniel continued.
“Sarah, I’m sorry. There was no other way.”
David leaned closer.
“What the hell?”
Daniel looked directly into the camera.
“Bring David to Facility 37. Bring Peter’s flash drive.”
Peter whispered, “He knows about the drive.”
Daniel continued.
“And Sarah?”
He paused.
“The police cannot help you. Not yet.”
Then he said something that made my stomach twist.
“Because Richard Harlan isn’t the person who ordered the genetic records destroyed.”
The video ended.
Nobody spoke.
Peter replayed the last sentence.
Once.
Twice.
David whispered, “Then who did?”
My phone buzzed.
A final message appeared.
YOU HAVE 52 MINUTES.
I looked at Peter.
“Drive.”
“No.”
“My daughter is there.”
“This is a trap.”
“I know.”
“You could die.”
“I know.”
David leaned forward.
“I’m going.”
I turned toward him.
“You’re going because she’s your daughter.”
“Yes.”
“And if you lie to me one more time—”
“I won’t.”
I held his gaze.
For the first time that day, I didn’t know whether I believed him.
Peter cursed and turned the car east.
Forty-three minutes later, the Portland skyline disappeared behind us.
Warehouses replaced neighborhoods.
Rail tracks crossed cracked pavement.
We passed an abandoned freight yard and turned onto a narrow industrial road.
At the very end stood a massive concrete building surrounded by rusted fencing.
Faded letters were barely visible above the entrance.
NORTHWEST BIOLOGICAL STORAGE.
Building number 37.
Peter parked two blocks away.
“We go in together.”
I nodded.
David reached into his jacket.
Peter immediately grabbed his wrist.
“What?”
David slowly pulled out a small handgun.
My stomach tightened.
“You brought a gun into Chloe’s bedroom?”
“No. It was locked in my car. I retrieved it at the apartment garage.”
Peter took it from him.
“You don’t carry this.”
“Why?”
“Because I trust you less than I trust myself.”
David didn’t argue.
We approached the facility on foot.
The front gate was already open.
So was the building door.
Inside, fluorescent lights flickered.
The hallway smelled like dust, metal, and something chemical underneath.
“Chloe?” I shouted.
My voice echoed.
No answer.
Then a speaker crackled overhead.
“Keep walking, Sarah.”
Daniel.
I looked upward.
“Where is my daughter?”
“She’s safe.”
“I want to see her.”
“You will.”
We followed the hallway.
Old laboratory rooms lined both sides.
Most were empty.
At the end stood an elevator.
The doors opened automatically.
Inside, only one button was illuminated.
B.
Basement.
Peter whispered, “No.”
The speaker crackled.
“Peter, if you don’t enter the elevator, Chloe leaves this building with someone else.”
Peter’s jaw tightened.
We stepped inside.
The elevator descended.
One floor.
Two.
Three.
The building didn’t look tall enough to have three underground levels.
The doors opened.
A huge subterranean laboratory stretched before us.
And unlike the abandoned floors above, this level was fully powered.
Computer monitors glowed.
Refrigeration units hummed.
Rows of metal cabinets lined the walls.
Then Chloe ran toward me.
“Mom!”
I screamed her name and wrapped both arms around her.
She was shaking.
But unharmed.
I kissed her forehead again and again.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Did anyone touch you?”
“No.”
I looked behind her.
Daniel Mercer stood twenty feet away.
Older than the man I remembered.
Gray hair.
Deep lines around his eyes.
But alive.
Very alive.
I released Chloe and walked straight toward him.
Then I slapped him.
The sound cracked through the laboratory.
Daniel didn’t move.
“That was for taking my daughter.”
“I understand.”
“You kidnapped her.”
“I removed her from a compromised location.”
“You put her in a car with a stranger!”
“The stranger works for me.”
“That is not better!”
“No.”
Chloe grabbed my arm.
“Mom, he didn’t hurt me.”
I looked at Daniel.
“You get one chance to explain.”
Daniel’s eyes moved toward David.
“First, he puts his hands where I can see them.”
David raised them.
Peter stepped forward.
“Where’s Richard?”
Daniel shook his head.
“He’s not coming.”
“Then why bring us here?”
Daniel looked at me.
“Because tonight this place disappears.”
“What?”
“It’s scheduled for demolition.”
Peter frowned.
“That facility isn’t condemned.”
“It will be after the fire.”
My stomach tightened.
“Someone is going to burn it?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Daniel looked toward Chloe.
“I would rather not say in front of her.”
Chloe folded her arms.
“Everybody keeps saying that today.”
Despite everything, Daniel almost smiled.
“You’re definitely Sarah’s daughter.”
David’s face hardened.
“She’s my daughter too.”
Daniel looked at him.
“I know.”
That caught everyone off guard.
David stared at him.
“You know?”
“The fake DNA report was never intended to convince you she wasn’t yours.”
“What?”
“It was intended to make you investigate.”
Peter’s expression sharpened.
“You sent it.”
Daniel nodded.
I stared at him.
“You created the report naming yourself as Chloe’s father?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To scare David.”
“Why use your name?”
“Because I knew he would recognize it.”
David’s eyes narrowed.
“You knew Richard had sent me to Sarah.”
“Yes.”
“And you wanted me to panic.”
“I wanted you to start asking questions Richard couldn’t control.”
“You could have contacted me.”
Daniel laughed without humor.
“You spent years working for the man who tried to have me killed.”
“I didn’t know that then.”
“I didn’t know what you knew.”
I stepped between them.
“Enough. Why Chloe?”
Daniel looked ashamed.
“I should never have allowed her name to enter this.”
“Allowed?”
“The lab required a living comparison sample for the fabricated report to look authentic.”
“You obtained my daughter’s DNA?”
“No.”
David whispered, “I did.”
Daniel nodded.
“I knew he would.”
My skin crawled.
“You manipulated him into taking Chloe’s DNA.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To make him run a legitimate test.”
Peter suddenly understood.
“And the legitimate lab result created a documented chain.”
Daniel nodded.
“A chain proving the fraudulent report existed.”
David stared at him.
“You used me.”
“Yes.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Apparently that’s a popular hobby.”
Neither man answered.
I looked around the laboratory.
“What is all this?”
Daniel walked toward a row of cabinets.
“The records Richard thought were destroyed.”
He opened one.
Thousands of labeled sample envelopes sat inside.
“Why save them?”
“Because they prove what happened.”
“What happened to whom?”
Daniel looked at me.
“Hundreds of families.”
My stomach sank.
He pulled out a file.
“Paternity tests changed to influence divorces.”
Another.
“Genetic disease results altered so insurance companies could deny claims.”
Another.
“Infant identification records manipulated during private adoption disputes.”
Chloe whispered, “That’s horrible.”
Daniel nodded.
“Yes.”
Peter held up the flash drive.
“This proves Richard was involved?”
“Partially.”
“Partially?”
Daniel looked toward the far end of the laboratory.
“Richard followed orders.”
David asked, “From who?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
Instead, he walked to a terminal and entered a password.
A video file appeared on the screen.
“Fifteen years ago, I copied a meeting.”
He pressed play.
The footage was grainy.
A conference room.
Richard Harlan sat at the table.
Much younger.
Beside him was Dr. Andrew Keller.
And across from them sat a woman.
Only the back of her head was visible.
Her voice came clearly through the speakers.
“Every Mercer file gets destroyed tonight.”
My body froze.
I knew that voice.
I hadn’t heard it in years.
But I knew it.
“No.”
Daniel looked at me.
“I’m sorry.”
The woman on screen turned slightly.
Her face became visible.
Chloe gasped.
David whispered, “Oh my God.”
I could barely stand.
Because the woman ordering Richard Harlan to destroy Daniel’s evidence wasn’t a corporate executive.
She wasn’t a lawyer.
She wasn’t a stranger.
She was my mother.
Elaine Carter.
The woman who had helped me through my breakup with Daniel.
The woman who comforted me after his supposed death.
The woman who held Chloe in the hospital the day she was born.
The woman who lived twelve minutes from my house.
I stared at Daniel.
“My mother?”
“She funded the operation.”
“No.”
“She controlled Richard.”
“No.”
“She was the reason I disappeared.”
“No!”
My scream echoed through the laboratory.
Daniel didn’t flinch.
“Sarah, your mother knew I had given you the key.”
I shook my head.
“She loved Daniel.”
“No. She was terrified of him.”
“Why?”
“Because I discovered whose genetic records were altered first.”
My heart stopped.
Daniel opened another file.
This one looked older.
Much older.
A birth record.
My birth record.
Sarah Carter.
I stared at him.
“What does this have to do with me?”
Daniel’s eyes softened.
“Everything.”
He placed a DNA report beside it.
My name appeared at the top.
Below it was another name.
Paternal comparison.
I expected to see my father’s name.
Robert Carter.
It wasn’t.
Instead, I saw a name that made no sense.
Richard Harlan.
Probability of biological paternity:
99.98%.
I could not breathe.
David gripped the edge of the desk.
Chloe whispered, “Mom?”
I looked at Daniel.
“That’s fake.”
“No.”
“My father is Robert Carter.”
“Robert raised you.”
“No.”
“Sarah—”
“No!”
Then the lights went out.
Total darkness swallowed the laboratory.
Chloe screamed.
I grabbed her.
Emergency lights flickered red.
Peter pulled David’s handgun.
“Everybody down.”
A metal door slammed somewhere behind us.
Then a woman’s voice came through the laboratory speakers.
Calm.
Familiar.
The same voice that had tucked me into bed when I was six.
The same voice that had sung happy birthday at every party.
The same voice that had told me family was the only thing in life I could always trust.
My mother.
“Sarah, sweetheart.”
I froze.
Chloe clung to me.
Daniel whispered, “She’s here.”
My mother continued.
“You were never supposed to see any of this.”
A hiss came from the ventilation system.
Peter looked upward.
“What is that?”
Daniel’s face turned white.
“Gas.”
Red warning lights began flashing.
David grabbed Chloe.
Peter ran toward the exit.
Locked.
My mother spoke one final time through the speakers.
“I’m sorry, Sarah.”
Then came a click.
And every steel door in Facility 37 sealed shut…………
TO BE CONTINUED IN LAST PART…
