Chapter 33 - The Lie We Trusted
I turned toward Daniel so quickly that the room seemed to spin.
“Did you?”
He stared at Thomas.
“You're lying.”
“Am I?”
Daniel looked at me.
“Claire.”
“Answer me.”
“I didn't take your son.”
Thomas laughed bitterly.
“Then where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect her to believe that?”
Daniel stepped closer.
“You were working with Eleanor.”
“I was working against her.”
“You held a gun on my people.”
“I was trying to stop a transfer.”
“You disappeared.”
“So did you.”
Bennett moved between them.
“Enough.”
Thomas looked at me.
“Claire, listen to me.”
“I am listening.”
“Daniel knew about the fourth heir.”
Daniel's jaw tightened.
“I knew there was a possibility.”
“You knew Adrian was alive.”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“You knew?”
“I found out six weeks ago.”
“And you didn't tell me.”
“I didn't know who I could trust.”
“You could trust me.”
Daniel's expression broke.
“I wasn't sure.”
The words hurt more than I expected.
“You weren't sure you could trust me?”
“Not after Eleanor got into the hospital records.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“I thought you were being watched.”
“So you lied to me?”
“I protected you.”
Thomas stepped forward.
“No.”
Daniel snapped.
“You don't get to lecture me about protection.”
“I do when you're hiding a child.”
Thomas pulled a phone from his pocket.
“Look.”
He pressed the screen.
Video.
A dark room.
A crib.
My son.
Alive.
My knees nearly gave out.
“Where is that?”
Thomas looked at Daniel.
“He knows.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
“Tell her.”
“No.”
Thomas's expression hardened.
“Then I'll tell her.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Don't.”
“Warehouse fourteen.”
My breath caught.
“Where?”
Daniel looked at me.
“Baltimore.”
“Baltimore?”
“It was supposed to be a temporary safehouse.”
I stared at him.
“You put my son in a safehouse without telling me?”
“I moved him before the hospital was compromised.”
“And who gave you permission?”
“Nobody.”
“Then what gives you the right?”
He looked broken.
“Being the only person who knew what they were really after.”
“Eleanor?”
“Not Eleanor.”
He looked at Thomas.
“Adrian.”
Silence.
Thomas nodded.
“Finally.”
I looked from one man to the other.
“What does Adrian want?”
Thomas answered.
“The child.”
“Why?”
“Because Adrian needs him.”
“For what?”
“The same thing Eleanor needed him for.”
“To access Blackwell?”
“No.”
Thomas looked at the baby in my arms.
“He needs your son to prove what Eleanor did to him.”
I felt confused.
“Explain.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“Adrian's identity was erased when he was seven.”
“By Eleanor?”
“By your father.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
I looked at him.
“Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Adrian witnessed something.”
“What?”
Arthur's voice dropped.
“The creation of the first Blackwell child protocol.”
I stared.
“The what?”
Arthur's hands shook.
“Eleanor and your father were trying to create a biological successor who could connect multiple branches of the trust.”
My stomach turned.
“My son.”
“Twenty years later.”
“Adrian was the first.”
I looked at Daniel.
“And he survived.”
“Barely.”
Thomas spoke.
“He wasn't a normal child after what they did.”
“Did they hurt him?”
“Yes.”
I looked toward the nursery.
The baby was sleeping again.
A tiny face.
A quiet breath.
I wanted to scream.
“You let this happen.”
Arthur said nothing.
I turned toward my mother.
“You knew too.”
She cried silently.
“Yes.”
I felt betrayed from every direction.
My entire family had spent years deciding which truths I was allowed to know.
They had called it protection.
It was control.
Thomas walked toward me.
“I can get your son back.”
I looked at him.
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn't.”
That answer stopped me.
“I lied to you.”
“Yes.”
“I stole records.”
“Yes.”
“I removed your son from the hospital.”
“Yes.”
“But I didn't hurt him.”
Thomas looked at Daniel.
“I did what he asked.”
I turned.
Daniel's face was pale.
“You asked him?”
Daniel nodded.
“I knew the hospital was compromised.”
“You knew before I did.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because the person inside the hospital wasn't Eleanor.”
“Who was it?”
Daniel opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Thomas answered for him.
“Your doctor.”
Silence.
A police officer suddenly rushed into the room.
“Sir!”
Bennett turned.
“What?”
“We have a situation.”
“What kind?”
“The public files.”
My heart dropped.
“They were supposed to stop at ninety-seven percent.”
“They did.”
“Then what's wrong?”
The officer handed Bennett a tablet.
He read the screen.
His face changed.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“The files didn't upload publicly.”
“Good.”
“No.”
He swallowed.
“They uploaded privately.”
“To whom?”
Bennett stared at the screen.
“One recipient.”
“Who?”
His answer was barely a whisper.
“Adrian Blackwell.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“He has everything now.”
I looked at Daniel.
“And my son?”
Thomas's phone rang.
He answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then I saw the blood drain from his face.
“What?”
He pulled the phone away.
“Put her on.”
He handed it to me.
A man's voice came through.
Calm.
Young.
Almost gentle.
“Claire.”
I gripped the phone.
“Where is my son?”
“You have something I need.”
“What?”
“A memory.”
I didn't understand.
“What memory?”
“The one your mother stole from you.”
My mother made a small sound.
The caller continued.
“Bring it to the church.”
“No.”
“Then you will never see your son again.”
“Adrian.”
“Yes?”
“I'll find you.”
He laughed softly.
“You already did.”
The call ended.
Daniel looked at my mother.
“What did you steal?”
She covered her face.
“Nothing.”
Thomas answered:
“The recording.”
“What recording?”
He looked at me.
“Your father's last conversation.”
May you like
My mother began to cry.
And for the first time, she looked terrified of me.
