PART 4 — THE BLOODLINE THEY STOLE
I woke to the sound of a baby crying.
Not my baby.
At least, I prayed it was not mine.
The cry came from somewhere beyond the white walls surrounding me—thin, frightened, and quickly silenced.
My eyes opened.
A chandelier hung above the bed, but everything else looked like a private hospital room.
A heart monitor blinked beside me.
An IV ran into my left arm.
Leather restraints circled both wrists.
My right hand rested over my stomach.
My daughter moved beneath it.
Relief struck me so violently that tears filled my eyes.
She was still inside me.
Still alive.
I turned my head.
Rebecca lay unconscious on another bed near the wall.
One of her wrists was handcuffed to the metal frame.
A dark bruise covered the side of her face, but her chest rose and fell steadily.
“Rebecca?”
She did not respond.
The door opened.
The woman from the ambulance entered alone.
She had changed out of her medical uniform.
Now she wore a cream-colored suit and a pearl necklace that looked older than I was.
Her silver hair was pinned neatly behind her head.
She looked elegant.
Calm.
Almost maternal.
But I remembered the way she had touched my stomach.
As if my daughter already belonged to her.
“Where am I?” I demanded.
“Mercer House.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“What did you give us?”
“A mild sedative.”
“You filled an ambulance with gas.”
“Rebecca was armed.”
“You kidnapped me.”
She walked toward the window and opened the curtains.
Morning light spilled across the room.
Beyond the glass stood acres of dark forest surrounded by stone walls.
No nearby roads.
No neighboring houses.
No visible way out.
“You were brought here for protection,” she said.
“From whom?”
“From the people who have been lying to you since birth.”
I pulled against the restraints.
“Release me.”
“When the physicians are certain you will not harm yourself.”
I stared at her.
“So this is how it begins.”
“How what begins?”
“You declare me unstable. You restrain me. Then you use your doctors to prove I’m dangerous.”
Her expression barely changed.
“You are angry.”
“I was abducted.”
“You activated a corporate protocol without understanding its consequences.”
“I created Protocol 7.”
“No, Brooke.”
She turned toward me.
“You approved the version Lawrence allowed you to see.”
A contraction tightened through my abdomen.
I forced myself not to react.
The woman noticed anyway.
“How long have they been happening?”
“My medical condition is none of your business.”
“Your child is very much my business.”
“She is not Connor’s child,” I said. “That’s what you told me.”
The woman moved closer.
“You remember.”
“Explain it.”
“Not yet.”
“Explain it now.”
For the first time, something emotional passed across her face.
Not guilt.
Longing.
She placed one hand over the pearl necklace at her throat.
“My name is Helena Mercer.”
I searched my memory.
The name felt familiar.
Then I remembered the founder portrait hidden in my father’s private vault.
My father had stood in front of Vale Global’s first factory beside a young woman with dark hair and fierce eyes.
The plaque beneath the photograph identified only him.
Adrian Vale, founder and visionary.
The woman beside him had no name.
But years ago, I found a handwritten note on the back.
A.V. and H.M.
Before everything changed.
“You built Vale Global with my father,” I whispered.
“I built the original company,” Helena corrected. “Your father built an empire from its ruins.”
“He said his first partner died.”
“He told everyone I died.”
“Why?”
“Because dead women cannot challenge forged documents.”
My heart monitor began beeping faster.
Helena glanced toward it.
“Your father and I created Mercer-Vale Laboratories when we were twenty-six years old. I designed the first patents. He found investors. We were partners.”
“What happened?”
“He wanted complete control.”
“That doesn’t sound like him.”
“You knew Adrian as a father. I knew him as a man who would destroy anyone standing between him and power.”
I shook my head.
“My father had flaws, but he wasn’t a murderer.”
Helena’s face became cold.
“Your confidence would be comforting if I hadn’t watched him arrange my death.”
Silence settled between us.
I looked toward Rebecca.
“Why is she unconscious?”
“She attempted to shoot the driver.”
“Smart woman.”
Helena ignored the comment.
“She will wake soon.”
“And then?”
“That depends on whether she cooperates.”
“If you hurt her—”
“You are in no position to threaten anyone.”
I pulled harder against the restraints.
The leather cut into my wrists.
Helena leaned down.
“Your father used to make that same mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“Believing ownership and control were the same thing.”
Before I could answer, the door opened again.
Lawrence entered.
He wore a fresh navy suit.
No tie.
No glasses.
He looked exactly as he had during hundreds of meetings in my office.
For one irrational second, I expected him to apologize.
Instead, he checked the monitor beside my bed.
“You’re awake.”
My anger came so quickly that the machine began sounding an alarm.
“You betrayed me.”
Lawrence silenced the monitor.
“I protected the company.”
“By kidnapping its owner?”
“By preventing an unstable controlling shareholder from destroying it.”
“You created the emergency declaration.”
“You activated Protocol 7.”
“You modified it.”
“After your father’s death.”
“Without board approval.”
“Your father gave me authority.”
“My father trusted you.”
Lawrence looked toward Helena.
“No. He feared me.”
I stared at him.
“You stood beside me at his funeral.”
“I arranged the funeral.”
“You told me he died from a heart attack.”
“He did.”
“Then why did you say you arranged it like that meant something else?”
Lawrence did not answer.
Helena moved toward the window.
“Tell her about the covenant.”
Lawrence’s jaw tightened.
“It is not necessary.”
“She deserves to understand why her child matters.”
My daughter kicked.
I looked between them.
“What covenant?”
Lawrence walked to the cabinet and removed a thick black folder.
He placed it on the table but kept it beyond my reach.
“When Mercer-Vale Laboratories was founded, Adrian and Helena created a private succession agreement.”
“My father never mentioned it.”
“Because he spent thirty years trying to destroy every copy.”
Helena faced me again.
“The agreement protected both family lines. Neither founder could permanently transfer controlling authority away from the other founder’s descendants.”
“That makes no sense. I inherited my father’s shares.”
“You inherited temporary control,” Lawrence said.
I laughed bitterly.
“Temporary? I have controlled Vale Global for nine years.”
“You controlled it because there was no qualifying Mercer heir.”
I looked at Helena.
“You’re alive.”
“I was legally dead.”
“Then challenge the inheritance.”
“I could not.”
“Why?”
Her eyes lowered.
“Because the covenant does not pass through the founders alone. It passes through their children.”
A terrible realization began forming.
“My father had me.”
“Yes,” Helena said.
“And you had a child.”
Her expression changed.
“A son.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died.”
I looked at Lawrence.
“Then there is no Mercer heir.”
“There was no living Mercer descendant,” Lawrence said, “until your pregnancy.”
The room seemed to tilt.
I pressed my hand against my stomach.
“You said my daughter is not Connor’s.”
Helena moved closer.
“She is not.”
“I have never been with another man.”
“No one said you had.”
Nausea rose in my throat.
“What did you do to me?”
Lawrence opened the black folder.
Inside were medical documents.
Fertility reports.
Laboratory results.
Consent forms carrying my signature.
I recognized the clinic.
Eight months earlier, I had been admitted after experiencing severe bleeding.
My obstetrician told me I had a threatened miscarriage.
They performed what they called a minor corrective procedure.
I remembered the anesthesia.
The recovery room.
Connor arriving three hours late because Vanessa had scheduled an “important meeting.”
I remembered waking with pain.
I remembered Lawrence sitting beside my bed.
He had held my hand.
He had promised everything would be fine.
“You used the hospital,” I whispered.
Lawrence’s silence confirmed it.
Helena removed one document from the folder.
“The pregnancy you believed was endangered had already ended.”
My breath caught.
“No.”
“The embryo did not survive.”
“You’re lying.”
“The doctors told you the bleeding had stopped.”
“They showed me an ultrasound.”
“They showed you a successful implantation.”
My body began trembling.
“Whose embryo?”
“It was created using your genetic material,” Helena said.
“And whose?”
She closed her eyes briefly.
“My son’s.”
I stared at her.
“Your son is dead.”
“His genetic material was preserved before his death.”
“You put a dead man’s child inside me?”
“You were already pregnant. The procedure was medically compatible.”
“You violated my body.”
Helena’s voice softened.
“I preserved both families.”
“You raped me through a laboratory.”
Lawrence stepped forward.
“That language is unnecessarily emotional.”
I turned on him with such hatred that he stopped.
“You drugged me. You replaced my pregnancy. You forged my consent. Then you spent months preparing to take my daughter.”
“The original embryo was lost,” he said. “We gave you another chance.”
“You gave yourselves an heir.”
Neither of them denied it.
My daughter moved again.
She was innocent.
Whatever they had done, she was mine.
Not because of blood.
Not because of contracts.
Because she had grown beneath my heart.
Because I had spoken to her every night.
Because I had imagined her face before I knew the color of her eyes.
Connor might not be her biological father.
But Helena and Lawrence would never be her family.
“You needed a child descended from both founders,” I said.
Lawrence nodded.
“Your daughter will carry Adrian Vale’s line through you and Helena Mercer’s line through Alexander.”
“Alexander,” I repeated.
The name of Helena’s dead son.
“The covenant will recognize her?”
“The moment she is born alive.”
“And then what?”
Helena looked toward Lawrence.
He answered.
“Permanent control of Vale Global transfers to a trust established for her benefit.”
“With you as trustee.”
“Until she reaches thirty years old.”
“You would control the company for three decades.”
“I would preserve it.”
“You would own it.”
“Again, ownership and control are not the same.”
“They are when the owner is a newborn.”
Another contraction seized me.
This one was stronger than the others.
I closed my eyes and breathed through it.
Lawrence watched the monitor.
“The contractions are becoming more regular.”
“I will not deliver here.”
“You may not have a choice.”
“Then take me to a real hospital.”
“This facility is better equipped than most hospitals.”
“For childbirth?”
“For discretion.”
The word chilled me.
“What happens to me after she is born?”
Helena looked away.
Lawrence answered calmly.
“You will receive treatment.”
“For what?”
“Postpartum psychosis.”
“I don’t have postpartum psychosis.”
“You will.”
A cold silence followed.
He was not planning to wait for symptoms.
He intended to create them.
“You’ll drug me,” I said.
“You will be placed under medical observation.”
“For how long?”
“As long as necessary.”
“Until everyone believes I’m insane.”
“Until you stop presenting a danger to your daughter’s inheritance.”
I looked toward Helena.
“You’re allowing this?”
Her eyes met mine.
“I spent thirty years waiting for the Mercer name to return.”
“So you’ll imprison your own granddaughter’s mother?”
“I will protect my granddaughter from Adrian Vale’s daughter.”
I almost laughed.
“You claim my father destroyed your life, yet you became exactly like him.”
The words hit her.
Her face tightened.
Lawrence stepped between us.
“That is enough.”
“No,” I said. “It isn’t.”
I pulled against the restraints again.
“You manipulated Connor into filing for divorce.”
“Yes.”
“You planted Vanessa in his life.”
“Yes.”
“You encouraged Evelyn’s hatred.”
“She required little encouragement.”
“The dinner?”
“Vanessa suggested that Evelyn invite you.”
“The dirty water?”
“That was Evelyn’s improvisation.”
“You wanted me angry enough to activate Protocol 7.”
Lawrence nodded once.
“Protocol 7 was the only mechanism capable of suspending your authority without notifying the full board.”
“You turned my emergency protection system against me.”
“You made it easy.”
I stared at the man I once trusted more than anyone.
“Did you ever care about me?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation hurt more than an immediate no.
“I cared for the child Adrian left behind.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It is the only answer you will receive.”
Behind him, Rebecca’s fingers moved.
Only slightly.
But I saw them.
She was awake.
Her eyes remained closed.
Her breathing stayed slow.
She had heard everything.
I forced myself not to look at her again.
“How did Vanessa escape the mansion?” I asked.
Lawrence’s expression hardened.
“She had assistance.”
“From whom?”
“We are determining that.”
“So you don’t control everyone.”
“I control enough.”
“You didn’t control Dr. Hale.”
“Hale misunderstood his role.”
“He tried to kidnap my daughter.”
“He was supposed to transport you safely.”
“He threatened to kill me.”
“Hale became ambitious.”
“And now he’s dead.”
Lawrence looked surprised.
Rebecca had shot Hale before we were taken.
Apparently, Lawrence had not been told.
“Dr. Hale was shot in the garage,” I said. “Rebecca killed him.”
Helena turned sharply toward Lawrence.
“You said Hale had secured the mother.”
“He did.”
“You said there were no complications.”
“There were none that affected the transfer.”
Helena’s fear told me something important.
Hale had known more than Lawrence wanted him to know.
Perhaps he had prepared evidence.
Perhaps he had intended to betray them.
Rebecca opened her eyes.
She moved fast.
Her free hand reached beneath the thin mattress.
She pulled out a narrow metal spring and drove it into the lock around her wrist.
Lawrence turned.
The handcuff opened.
Rebecca swung her legs off the bed.
Helena shouted.
Lawrence reached inside his jacket.
Rebecca crossed the room before he could draw his weapon.
She struck his wrist.
The gun fell.
I kicked it beneath my bed.
Helena ran toward the door.
Rebecca grabbed her and forced her against the wall.
“Release Brooke.”
Lawrence clutched his injured wrist.
“You will not leave this estate alive.”
Rebecca smiled without humor.
“I’ve heard that before.”
She searched Helena’s pockets and found a key card.
Then she unlocked my restraints.
The moment I sat up, the room spun.
Rebecca steadied me.
“Can you walk?”
“I have to.”
“We need to move now.”
An alarm began ringing through the estate.
Lawrence stood between us and the door.
“Rebecca, think carefully.”
“I am.”
“You are employed by Vale Global.”
“I am employed to protect the controlling shareholder.”
“She no longer controls the company.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“She controls my decision.”
Then she struck Lawrence across the face with the metal handcuff.
He collapsed against the cabinet.
We ran.
The hallway outside resembled a luxury hotel.
Soft carpeting.
Gold-framed paintings.
No windows.
Doors lined both sides.
Behind one of them, a baby cried again.
I stopped.
Rebecca grabbed my arm.
“Brooke, we cannot search every room.”
“There are children here.”
“We don’t know that.”
“I heard a baby.”
Another cry came from behind the nearest door.
Then another.
Two different voices.
Rebecca swore under her breath.
She used Helena’s key card.
The door unlocked.
Inside was a nursery.
Six white bassinets stood beneath warm lights.
Five were empty.
One held a newborn boy.
A nurse in pale blue scrubs stood beside him.
She reached for an alarm button.
Rebecca slammed the door behind us and aimed Lawrence’s gun at her.
“Step away from the child.”
The nurse raised her hands.
“He needs medical supervision.”
“Whose baby is he?” I demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re caring for him.”
“We use identification numbers.”
She pointed toward the bassinet.
A card read:
GC-19. MALE. TRANSFER PENDING.
“Where is his mother?” I asked.
The nurse looked down.
“Answer her,” Rebecca ordered.
“I don’t know.”
“Was he born here?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
“Where is his mother?”
The nurse began crying.
“She didn’t survive.”
The words filled the nursery.
I looked at the tiny boy.
He slept peacefully, unaware that the people responsible for protecting him had reduced him to a transfer number.
Golden Cradle was larger than my daughter.
Larger than Vale Global.
“How many?” I whispered.
The nurse did not respond.
“How many babies have passed through this place?”
“I don’t know.”
Rebecca pressed the gun closer.
The nurse finally answered.
“Forty-seven since I started working here.”
“When did you start?”
“Four years ago.”
My stomach turned.
“Where were they sent?”
“Families.”
“What families?”
“Political families. Corporate families. Royal families. Anyone approved by the committee.”
“They stole children from their mothers.”
“Sometimes the mothers agreed.”
“And the others?”
The nurse began trembling.
“They were declared unfit.”
Exactly as Lawrence intended to declare me.
A contraction tightened through me again.
I leaned against the bassinet.
Rebecca watched my face.
“How close?”
“Closer.”
“We need medical help.”
“Not from anyone here.”
A red light flashed above the nursery door.
Security had reached the hallway.
The nurse looked toward the ceiling.
“They will lock down this wing.”
“Is there another exit?” Rebecca asked.
“No.”
Rebecca grabbed the nurse by the collar.
“Think again.”
“There’s a records room at the back. It connects to the service elevator.”
“Show us.”
The nurse led us through a second door.
The records room contained rows of locked cabinets and several computer terminals.
Photographs covered one wall.
Women.
Babies.
Medical files.
New identities.
My eyes moved from face to face.
Some women smiled in pregnancy photos.
Others appeared unconscious in hospital beds.
A few had the word DECEASED stamped across their pictures.
Rebecca stared at the wall.
“My God.”
I reached for the nearest file.
The name on the cover was Sarah Bellamy.
Inside was a photograph of a young woman with red hair.
A psychiatric report declared her delusional and dangerous.
A death certificate claimed she died from complications after childbirth.
The final page contained a transfer authorization for her daughter.
Signed by Lawrence Whitmore.
I opened another.
And another.
His signature appeared in every file.
“We need proof,” I said.
Rebecca moved toward the computer.
“The system may be isolated.”
“I have a founder key.”
“They froze your accounts.”
“Not all of them.”
My father had created an emergency access code that did not belong to Vale Global’s modern network.
He called it the Ghost Key.
Only he and I knew it existed.
I entered twelve characters.
The screen went black.
Then a simple message appeared.
VALE LEGACY ACCESS RECOGNIZED.
Rebecca looked at me.
“What can it do?”
“Copy everything.”
I inserted the small encrypted drive hidden inside the clasp of my bracelet.
The bracelet had been a gift from my father on my eighteenth birthday.
He told me never to remove it.
I had believed it was sentimental.
Years later, I discovered its true purpose.
The download began.
Golden Cradle files.
Medical reports.
Financial transfers.
Names of judges.
Doctors.
Politicians.
Corporate executives.
The progress bar reached twelve percent.
Footsteps thundered outside.
Rebecca dragged a cabinet in front of the door.
The nurse stood frozen beside the service elevator.
“How long?” Rebecca asked.
“Three minutes.”
“We don’t have three minutes.”
A heavy object struck the door.
The cabinet shook.
The baby cried in the next room.
The nurse covered her mouth.
The progress bar reached twenty-nine percent.
Another impact hit the door.
Wood splintered around the lock.
Rebecca aimed her gun.
“Stay behind me.”
I looked toward the service elevator.
“Where does it go?”
“The surgical level,” the nurse said.
“Can we reach the garage from there?”
“No. Only the operating rooms and the underground tunnels.”
“What tunnels?”
“Old utility passages beneath the estate.”
“Where do they lead?”
“I don’t know.”
The progress bar reached forty-six percent.
My phone was gone.
Rebecca’s had been taken.
Even with the evidence, we needed to escape or send it beyond the estate.
“Can the Ghost Key transmit?” Rebecca asked.
“Only through a Vale satellite relay.”
“Do it.”
“I need authorization from a second founder-level account.”
“Whose?”
“Lawrence’s.”
We both looked toward the door.
He was on the other side.
The progress bar reached sixty-one percent.
Then the computer displayed a new notification.
SECONDARY FOUNDER SIGNATURE DETECTED.
I stared.
“That’s impossible.”
“What does it mean?” Rebecca asked.
“Someone else with founder authority is connected to this network.”
“Helena?”
“No. She was legally removed before the modern system was created.”
The screen displayed a request.
TRANSMISSION AUTHORIZATION AVAILABLE. ACCEPT?
I clicked yes.
The files began uploading.
Someone on the estate was helping us.
The door cracked open.
A gloved hand reached through.
Rebecca fired once.
The hand disappeared.
The nurse screamed.
The upload reached seventy-eight percent.
Then the room lights went out.
The computer remained powered by emergency backup.
The service elevator opened behind us.
No one stood inside.
“Move,” Rebecca ordered.
“What about the baby?” I asked.
“We cannot carry him through a gunfight.”
“We cannot leave him.”
The nurse ran into the nursery.
She returned carrying the newborn against her chest.
“I’m coming with you.”
Rebecca looked at her.
“You help us, and you testify.”
The nurse nodded through her tears.
The upload reached ninety-four percent.
The door burst inward.
Two armed guards entered.
Rebecca fired.
One guard dropped.
The second returned fire.
A bullet shattered the computer monitor.
I screamed.
The screen went black before I saw whether the upload completed.
Rebecca shoved me into the elevator.
The nurse followed with the baby.
Rebecca fired twice more, then jumped inside.
The doors closed.
“Did it send?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
The elevator descended.
My knees weakened.
Warm liquid ran down my legs.
I looked down.
My water had broken.
Rebecca saw it.
“We are out of time.”
The elevator doors opened onto a surgical corridor.
Three operating rooms stood ahead.
Every door was locked except one.
Light spilled through its small window.
The nurse shifted the baby in her arms.
“There are doctors inside.”
“Golden Cradle doctors?” Rebecca asked.
“Yes.”
“Then we keep moving.”
Another contraction struck.
I cried out and grabbed the wall.
This one did not fade quickly.
Pressure pushed downward through my body.
The nurse looked terrified.
“She may deliver within minutes.”
Rebecca searched the corridor.
“Where are the tunnels?”
“Through the sterilization room.”
The sound of the elevator moving again came from behind us.
Security was following.
Rebecca supported me with one arm.
We hurried toward the end of the hall.
The sterilization-room door required a key code.
The nurse entered it.
Red light.
She tried again.
Red.
“They changed it.”
The elevator climbed closer.
“Use the key card,” Rebecca said.
The nurse scanned Helena’s card.
Access denied.
My vision blurred.
The pain was becoming constant.
Rebecca looked toward the unlocked operating room.
“We have no choice.”
“No.”
“Brooke, you cannot run through underground tunnels in active labor.”
“They will take her.”
“I won’t let them.”
“You cannot promise that.”
Rebecca gripped my shoulders.
“Look at me. I would die before I let Lawrence touch your daughter.”
The elevator chimed.
The doors began opening at the far end of the corridor.
Rebecca pushed me into the operating room.
The nurse followed.
Inside, a surgical team waited around an empty table.
They wore masks and gowns.
One doctor moved toward me.
Rebecca raised her gun.
“Back away.”
The doctor stopped.
“We were told the patient might arrive under distress.”
“Who told you?”
“Mr. Whitmore.”
Rebecca aimed at his chest.
“You will treat her, but no one removes that child from this room.”
The doctor looked at the blood on my dress.
“She needs immediate examination.”
“I’m not getting on that table,” I said.
A contraction forced me to bend forward.
The nurse placed the newborn in a heated bassinet and came to my side.
“Brooke, listen to me. The baby may be premature. Refusing treatment could endanger both of you.”
I hated that she was right.
Rebecca searched each member of the surgical team.
“No weapons. No phones. No syringes unless I approve them.”
She locked the operating-room door.
Security began pounding from outside.
The lead surgeon guided me toward the table.
“We need to examine you.”
I grabbed his wrist.
“Remove your mask.”
He hesitated.
“Now.”
Slowly, he pulled the mask down.
I did not recognize him.
Rebecca checked his badge.
“Dr. Samuel Cross.”
The name meant nothing to me.
He helped me onto the table.
“Your baby’s heartbeat is dropping.”
Fear cut through every other emotion.
“Save her.”
“We may need to perform an emergency cesarean section.”
“No anesthesia that makes me unconscious.”
“We can use a spinal block.”
Rebecca stood beside my head with the gun.
“Tell me every medication before you administer it.”
The pounding outside grew louder.
The door began bending beneath the force.
Dr. Cross opened a sterile package.
“You need to remain calm.”
“I need to remain awake.”
“You will.”
The nurse attached a fetal monitor.
A rapid heartbeat filled the room.
Then it slowed.
The sound became uneven.
Dr. Cross’s expression changed.
“We have to deliver now.”
I looked at Rebecca.
She nodded.
“I’m here.”
The surgical team moved quickly.
A curtain was raised across my chest.
Cold antiseptic spread over my skin.
The newborn boy cried from the bassinet.
Security struck the door again.
Metal cracked.
The spinal medication entered my back.
Numbness spread through my legs.
I stared at the ceiling.
My daughter’s heartbeat continued slowing.
“Please,” I whispered. “Please save her.”
Dr. Cross lifted the scalpel.
Then every light in the operating room went dark.
The fetal monitor stopped.
The pounding outside ceased.
For several seconds, there was nothing but silence.
A backup lamp switched on above the table.
One of the masked surgeons moved behind Dr. Cross.
Rebecca raised the gun.
“Identify yourself.”
The surgeon removed his cap.
Then his mask.
My breath disappeared.
I knew that face.
Older.
Thinner.
Marked by a scar that ran from his temple to his jaw.
But unmistakable.
I had kissed that face goodbye inside a coffin nine years earlier.
I had scattered his ashes beside my mother’s grave.
My father stood beneath the surgical light.
Alive.
Adrian Vale looked down at me with tears in his eyes.
“Brooke.”
I could not speak.
Rebecca’s weapon shook slightly.
Dr. Cross stepped back.
My father placed one hand over mine.
“I know you have no reason to trust me.”
“You’re dead,” I whispered.
“That was the only way to hide from Lawrence.”
“You left me.”
“To keep him from finding what I had stolen back.”
Another alarm sounded from the fetal monitor as power returned.
My daughter’s heartbeat dropped even lower.
My father looked toward Dr. Cross.
“Deliver the baby.”
Then he leaned close enough that only I could hear him.
“But the moment she is born, do not let Helena see the mark beneath her left shoulder.”
I stared at him.
“What mark?”
His face filled with terror.
“The mark proving Helena lied.”
The operating-room door exploded inward.
Lawrence entered with three armed guards.
Helena stood behind him.
She looked at my father and went completely pale.
“Adrian?”
My father turned toward her.
“You should have stayed dead, Helena.”
She smiled slowly.
“So should you.”
Dr. Cross lifted my daughter from my body.
A tiny cry filled the operating room.
My heart shattered open with love.
“She’s alive,” the doctor announced.
Helena rushed forward.
Rebecca aimed her weapon.
“Stop!”
My father pulled back the surgical cloth covering my baby’s shoulder.
Everyone froze.
Beneath her left shoulder blade was a dark, crescent-shaped birthmark.
Helena stared at it.
“No.”
Lawrence’s face changed.
For the first time, he looked afraid.
My father looked directly at me.
“Brooke, Connor is not her father.”
“I know.”
He shook his head.
“That is not what I mean.”
The armed guards closed around the operating table.
My father’s next words silenced the entire room.
“Alexander Mercer is not her father either.”
Helena staggered backward.
I stared at my newborn daughter.
“Then who is?”
My father looked toward Lawrence.
“The man who has been standing beside you since the night I supposedly died.”
Lawrence slowly raised his gun.
And aimed it at my baby……………………….
TO BE CONTINUED IN LAST PART…
