“They’re already here.”
Rebecca’s words froze everyone in the room.
Daniel stepped in front of me and Sophie.
“Who?”
Rebecca stood halfway down the staircase, clutching the missing envelope.
Her eyes moved slowly across the room.
Grandma Evelyn.
My mother.
Richard.
Helen.
My brother Michael.
Then back to me.
“Rebecca,” I whispered. “Who are you looking at?”
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she asked something that made no sense.
“Claire, how long has your brother been here?”
I turned toward Michael.
“What?”
Michael frowned.
“Are you serious?”
Rebecca descended another step.
“Answer me.”
I looked at my brother.
“He arrived before the party.”
“What time?”
“Maybe eleven-thirty.”
Michael threw up his hands.
“This is insane.”
Rebecca stared at him.
“Who invited you?”
“My sister invited me. It’s my niece’s birthday.”
“I didn’t ask why you’re here.”
She tightened her grip on the envelope.
“I asked who invited you.”
Michael looked at me.
“Claire?”
“Of course I invited you.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“No.”
I stared at her.
“What do you mean?”
“You sent invitations by text, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
I shifted Sophie onto one hip and pulled out my phone.
I opened my messages.
Michael’s name wasn’t there.
I searched again.
Nothing.
My stomach tightened.
“That’s impossible.”
Michael laughed nervously.
“You probably deleted it.”
“I didn’t.”
Mom stepped toward him.
“Michael, how did you know about the party?”
His smile disappeared.
“You told me.”
Mom shook her head.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I thought Claire invited you.”
Silence.
Michael’s eyes darted toward the front door.
Daniel noticed.
“Don’t.”
Michael stopped.
“What?”
“Don’t move toward that door.”
Michael’s face hardened.
“You think I’m involved in this?”
Rebecca descended the final steps.
“I think someone wanted you here.”
She opened the stolen envelope.
Inside was a photocopied hospital record.
She held it toward me.
“Read the name.”
I took it.
At the top:
ST. MATTHEW’S HOSPITAL
JUNE 17, 1993
DELIVERY: FEMALE TWINS
MOTHER: ANNA HART
Below were two lines.
INFANT A — CLAIRE
INFANT B — REBECCA
My throat tightened.
But Rebecca pointed lower.
There was another name.
AUTHORIZED RELEASE CONTACT:
MARGARET HART.
My mother covered her mouth.
“I never signed that.”
Rebecca nodded.
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because the signature was forged.”
I looked closer.
Beneath Margaret’s name was another signature.
WITNESS:
DR. JONATHAN MERCER.
Grandma Evelyn made a sound like she’d been struck.
Richard turned toward her.
“You recognize that name.”
Grandma stared at the paper.
“Yes.”
“Who was he?”
She whispered, “My brother.”
My mouth fell open.
“You had a brother?”
“Half brother.”
“And nobody ever mentioned him?”
“He wasn’t someone we talked about.”
Rebecca’s voice turned cold.
“Because Jonathan Mercer wasn’t just your brother.”
She pulled another document from the envelope.
“He was William Whitmore’s son.”
Everything inside me went still.
Grandma closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“William had two children we know about. Rose with Evelyn… and Jonathan with another woman.”
I struggled to follow.
“So Jonathan was Rose’s half brother?”
“Yes.”
“And he delivered us?”
Rebecca nodded.
“That’s where this started.”
Grandma suddenly shook her head.
“No. It started long before that.”
We all looked at her.
She seemed smaller in her wheelchair now.
Not mysterious.
Not powerful.
Just exhausted.
“I met William when I was eighteen.”
Her voice trembled.
“He was older. Married. Wealthy. Everyone in town knew the Whitmore name.”
Richard’s jaw tightened.
Grandma continued.
“When I became pregnant with Rose, William promised he would leave his wife.”
“But he didn’t,” I said.
“No.”
“What did he do?”
“He tried to take Rose.”
The room fell silent.
“Why?”
“Because his wife couldn’t have children.”
My stomach turned.
Grandma stared at the floor.
“William believed money could purchase anything. Houses. Judges. Policemen.”
Her voice broke.
“Even children.”
“So he kidnapped Rose.”
“Yes.”
“When she was four?”
Grandma nodded.
“I spent twenty-one years believing she was gone forever.”
Rebecca stepped closer.
“But she wasn’t.”
“No.”
“Jonathan knew where she was.”
Grandma looked at her.
“Yes.”
Rebecca held up the hospital record.
“And decades later, Jonathan did the same thing to us.”
Grandma began crying.
“I didn’t know until afterward.”
“What did he do?”
“He separated you.”
My heart pounded.
“Why?”
Grandma looked at me.
“Because Anna was planning to expose everything.”
“Expose what?”
“William’s family had been paying people for decades to keep Rose’s disappearance hidden.”
Richard shook his head.
“But William was dead by then.”
“William was dead.”
Grandma looked at him.
“But Jonathan wasn’t.”
Rebecca handed me another page.
It was a letter from Anna.
My biological mother.
The date was June 16, 1993.
One day before we were born.
If anything happens to me, Jonathan Mercer is responsible.
He knows I’m carrying twins.
He told me our family owes him one child.
My stomach twisted.
“Owes him?”
Rebecca nodded.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to understand.”
Grandma whispered, “I know what it means.”
Everyone turned toward her.
She looked at Rebecca.
“When Rose came back in 1974, she wasn’t alone.”
Rebecca frowned.
“Anna?”
Grandma shook her head.
“Anna hadn’t been born yet.”
“Then who?”
Grandma took a long breath.
“A baby boy.”
Michael suddenly dropped the glass he was holding.
It shattered against the floor.
Everyone looked at him.
His face had gone completely white.
Mom whispered, “Michael?”
Rebecca stared at him.
Then at Grandma.
“What was the baby’s name?”
Grandma didn’t answer.
Michael backed toward the wall.
“Stop.”
I stared at him.
“Michael?”
“Claire, don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
He looked at Mom.
“You promised.”
My mother looked confused.
“Promised what?”
His expression changed.
“You really don’t know?”
Mom shook her head.
Michael laughed.
But tears were forming in his eyes.
“Of course.”
He ran both hands over his face.
“Of course they never told you either.”
“Michael, what are you talking about?”
He looked at me.
“I’m not your brother.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Not biologically.”
Mom stepped forward.
“Michael, you’re my son.”
“No.”
“Yes, you are!”
“You raised me.”
His voice cracked.
“But you didn’t give birth to me.”
Mom stared at him.
“That’s not true.”
“I found the papers when Dad died.”
Our father had passed away six years earlier.
Michael continued.
“His safe had adoption records.”
Mom looked as though she might collapse.
“No.”
“He never told you?”
She shook her head.
Michael laughed bitterly.
“He told you I was born while you were unconscious after the emergency C-section, didn’t he?”
Mom’s lips parted.
“Yes.”
“He lied.”
My chest tightened.
“Then who are your biological parents?”
Michael looked toward Grandma.
“I was hoping she could tell me.”
Grandma stared at him.
“Come closer.”
Michael didn’t move.
“Please.”
Slowly, he stepped forward.
Grandma reached up and touched his face.
She studied his eyes.
Then she began crying.
“Oh, Rose.”
Michael flinched.
“What?”
Grandma whispered, “You have her eyes.”
I felt dizzy.
“Grandma… are you saying Michael is Rose’s son?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Rose’s grandson.”
Rebecca’s mouth fell open.
“Then he’s Anna’s—”
“Brother.”
Silence.
I looked at Michael.
If Anna was my biological mother…
Then Michael was my biological uncle.
Michael stared at me.
“Apparently this family doesn’t believe in simple relationships.”
Nobody laughed.
Grandma continued.
“Rose returned in 1974 carrying a baby boy. She said William’s people had taken him from someone else.”
“Who?” Rebecca asked.
“She never told me.”
“Then how could that baby be Anna’s brother?”
“Because Rose raised him.”
Michael frowned.
“So she wasn’t my biological mother?”
“No.”
“Then who was?”
Grandma looked terrified again.
“I don’t know.”
Rebecca suddenly grabbed the envelope.
“This is what they were hiding.”
She removed another page.
It was a list.
Seven names.
Seven babies.
Seven dates.
1953.
1961.
1974.
1982.
1993.
1993.
And 2025.
My eyes locked onto the final date.
2025.
The year Sophie was born.
“No.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“I found this three weeks ago.”
Beside each date was a child’s name.
Several had been crossed out.
Beside 1993:
Claire Hart.
Rebecca Hart.
And beside 2025:
Sophie Whitmore.
My knees buckled.
Daniel caught me.
“What does that mean?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Grandma whispered, “I do.”
We all turned.
She stared at Sophie.
“They’ve been keeping records.”
“Who?”
“The Mercer Trust.”
Richard frowned.
“There’s no Mercer Trust.”
“There is.”
Grandma’s voice hardened.
“It’s just not called that anymore.”
“What is it called?”
She looked directly at Richard.
“The Whitmore Family Foundation.”
Richard stepped backward.
“That’s impossible.”
Daniel looked at his father.
“What foundation?”
Richard rubbed his forehead.
“Our family charity.”
“What does it do?”
“Children’s medical programs. Adoption services. Maternal health.”
Rebecca gave a bitter laugh.
“Adoption services.”
Richard looked horrified.
“I’ve never been involved with operations.”
“But someone has,” Rebecca said.
Daniel pulled out his phone.
“I’m calling the police.”
Grandma grabbed his arm.
“No.”
Daniel stared at her.
“Someone has photographs of my daughter. I’m calling the police.”
“They’ve had police before.”
“I don’t care.”
He dialed.
Nothing happened.
He looked at the screen.
“No signal.”
I checked mine.
Nothing.
Richard checked his.
“No service.”
Rebecca rushed toward the window.
Then stopped.
“There.”
Across the street, a black SUV was parked beneath a tree.
Engine running.
Daniel headed toward the front door.
Rebecca blocked him.
“Don’t.”
“Get out of my way.”
“They want you outside.”
“How do you know?”
“Because that’s what they did to me.”
I stared at her.
“What happened to you?”
Rebecca slowly lifted her sleeve.
A long scar ran down her forearm.
“Three weeks ago, someone broke into my apartment.”
My stomach tightened.
“They took nothing.”
She looked at Sophie.
“They left the photograph of your daughter on my pillow.”
Grandma whispered, “They’re warning us.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“No.”
“They’re not warning us.”
She reached into her pocket and removed a small black device.
“They’re listening.”
Daniel took it.
“What is that?”
“I found it upstairs.”
“A microphone?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Under Sophie’s crib.”
My blood turned cold.
Someone had been inside my daughter’s room.
Daniel ran upstairs.
I followed with Sophie.
He searched beneath the crib.
The window was unlocked.
We always locked it.
Daniel looked outside.
A muddy shoe print marked the roof beneath the window.
“Claire.”
His voice was shaking.
“They’ve been inside.”
Then I noticed something on Sophie’s dresser.
A red envelope.
I hadn’t seen it before.
My name was written across it.
CLAIRE.
Rebecca entered behind us.
Her face changed.
“Don’t touch it.”
“Why?”
“Because I got one exactly like it.”
“When?”
“The night they broke into my apartment.”
I stared at the envelope.
“What was inside yours?”
Rebecca swallowed.
“A photograph of me as a newborn.”
“And?”
“One sentence.”
“What sentence?”
She looked at Sophie.
“‘One twin was a mistake. There will not be another.'”
My hands began shaking.
Daniel pulled on a pair of gloves from Sophie’s changing station and opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Sophie sleeping in her crib.
Taken from inside the room.
On the back:
MIDNIGHT.
I looked at the clock.
8:47 p.m.
Daniel whispered, “We’re leaving.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“The road may already be blocked.”
“Then we’ll go through the backyard.”
Grandma’s voice came from the doorway.
“No.”
We turned.
Somehow she had wheeled herself into the hallway with Richard behind her.
“There’s only one way to end this.”
I stared at her.
“How?”
Grandma reached beneath the blanket covering her legs.
She pulled out a second key.
Not the little brass key from the suitcase.
This one was larger.
Silver.
“There’s something I didn’t bring inside.”
Richard frowned.
“What?”
Grandma looked toward the medical transport van parked in our driveway.
“A second suitcase.”
Rebecca froze.
“You said there was only one.”
“I lied.”
“What’s in the second one?”
Grandma looked at Sophie.
“Proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“Every child they took.”
My heart stopped.
“Then let’s get it.”
Grandma grabbed my wrist.
“And proof of who ordered Sophie to be next.”
Daniel looked toward the driveway.
“I’ll get it.”
“No.”
Grandma’s grip tightened.
“Claire has to.”
“Why?”
“Because the case is locked to her.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Grandma held out the silver key.
Before I could take it, every light in the house went out.
Darkness swallowed us.
Sophie screamed.
“Daniel!”
“I’m here.”
Rebecca whispered, “Nobody move.”
Downstairs, glass shattered.
Then came the unmistakable sound of the front door opening.
Someone had entered the house.
Daniel grabbed a heavy lamp from the dresser.
Richard shouted from the hallway.
“Stay upstairs!”
Footsteps moved below us.
Slow.
Unhurried.
One step.
Then another.
Grandma Evelyn began trembling.
“That’s him.”
Rebecca turned toward her.
“Who?”
Grandma whispered a name.
“Jonathan.”
Rebecca stared at her.
“Jonathan Mercer would be over ninety years old.”
Grandma shook her head.
“I didn’t say Dr. Jonathan Mercer.”
The footsteps reached the staircase.
Grandma’s eyes filled with terror.
“I meant his son.”
A man’s voice floated up through the darkness.
“Evelyn?”
Grandma stopped breathing.
The voice continued.
“You’ve made this much harder than it needed to be.”
Daniel positioned himself at the top of the stairs.
“Who are you?”
The man laughed softly.
Then the emergency lights from the medical van outside flickered through the window.
For one second, his face became visible.
Richard gasped.
“No.”
Daniel turned toward his father.
“You know him?”
Richard’s face looked gray.
“That’s impossible.”
“WHO IS HE?”
Richard stared down the staircase.
“My brother.”
Daniel froze.
“You don’t have a brother.”
Richard whispered, “That’s what I was told.”
The man stepped onto the first stair.
Then the second.
Grandma Evelyn held out the silver key to me.
“Claire, listen carefully.”
Her voice was urgent.
“Go through Sophie’s bathroom. There’s a window onto the garage roof. Get to the van.”
“What about you?”
“Forget me.”
“I’m not leaving you!”
“CLAIRE.”
For the first time, Grandma shouted my name.
“You have eight minutes before that van automatically locks.”
She pushed the key into my palm.
“Open the compartment beneath the stretcher.”
“What’s inside?”
Grandma looked toward the approaching shadow.
“The truth about your mother.”
Rebecca grabbed my arm.
“I’ll go with you.”
Grandma shook her head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Claire isn’t the only person that second suitcase identifies.”
Rebecca’s face changed.
“What are you saying?”
Grandma stared at her.
“You need to stay here.”
“Why?”
“Because after Claire opens that suitcase…”
Grandma’s voice broke.
“…she’s going to learn that you are not her twin.”
Rebecca went completely still.
I felt as if the floor had vanished beneath me.
“What?”
Grandma looked at me.
“The baby named Rebecca died at St. Matthew’s Hospital.”
Rebecca shook her head violently.
“No.”
“I saw her body.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m sorry.”
“THEN WHO AM I?”
The footsteps stopped halfway up the stairs.
Grandma stared at Rebecca.
“I don’t know.”
The man below us laughed.
“I do.”
Rebecca slowly turned toward the staircase.
The stranger stepped into the dim light.
He looked directly at her.
And smiled.
“Hello, Rebecca.”
She backed away.
“Who are you?”
His smile disappeared.
“Your father.”
Nobody moved.
Then he looked at me.
“And Claire…”
He reached into his coat and pulled out a photograph.
“…if you open that second suitcase, you’re going to discover why Evelyn has spent thirty-three years making sure you never meet your real twin.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“My real twin?”
He nodded.
“She’s alive.”
“Where?”
The man looked past me.
Toward someone standing in the hallway.
Then he smiled.
“Closer than you think.”
TO BE CONTINUED…………………
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