Chapter 6 - The Second ChildThe photograph trembled between my fingers.
I looked at the newborn baby first.
Tiny.
Wrapped in a pale yellow blanket.
One fist curled against a cheek.
Then I looked at my mother.
She was younger, but there was no mistaking her.
She was standing beside a hospital bed, smiling down at the baby.
And next to her stood Victor Hale.
His hand rested on my mother's shoulder.
They looked like a family.
My stomach turned.
“Who is the baby?” I asked.
Nobody answered.
“Daniel.”
He looked at the photograph.
“I don't know.”
I stared at him.
“You just told me my mother had two pregnancies.”
“I said she did.”
“And this is one of the children.”
“Yes.”
“Then whose baby is that?”
His eyes moved to Lily.
She stepped closer.
“Not yours.”
“Then whose?”
Lily's face had gone pale.
“I think you already know.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Something about the baby felt familiar.
Not the face.
The blanket.
There was a tiny embroidered flower in the corner.
Blue petals.
Three little leaves.
I had one just like it.
A blanket.
An old one my mother kept in a cedar chest.
She never let me throw it away.
When I was little, I'd asked her where it came from.
She always said, “Someone gave it to me.”
I whispered, “That blanket.”
Daniel looked at me.
“What?”
“The baby is wrapped in the same blanket my mother kept.”
Lily took the photograph from my hand.
“Then this isn't a photograph of your birth.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“This happened years later.”
“How much later?”
She turned the photograph over.
A date was stamped in the corner.
March 17, 1998.
I stared at it.
My birth records said I was born on June 4, 1998.
Three months later.
My heart began beating faster.
“That's impossible.”
Daniel's eyes narrowed.
“Your records say June.”
“Yes.”
“Then we need to find out what happened in March.”
Lily pointed at the baby.
“Because that's the second pregnancy.”
I looked at her.
“What happened to that child?”
“We need to go somewhere safe.”
“No.”
“Emma—”
“No.”
I grabbed the photograph back.
“I've spent my entire life being lied to. I'm not leaving until someone tells me the truth.”
Daniel stepped toward me.
“I'll tell you what I know.”
“Everything.”
“I will.”
“Start with the baby.”
He nodded.
“Your mother gave birth in March.”
I stared at him.
“To whom?”
“A girl.”
My breath caught.
“She survived?”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
Daniel hesitated.
“That's what we don't know.”
I looked at Lily.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“That's not an answer.”
“I found the records two years ago.”
“What records?”
“Hospital records. Payment records. A private adoption document.”
The words hit me one after another.
“Adoption?”
Lily nodded.
“Your mother didn't give the baby away.”
“Then who did?”
“Victor.”
Daniel interrupted.
“No. Victor arranged it, but he didn't take the child himself.”
“Who did?”
“A private medical group.”
“Northbridge?”
“Yes.”
I felt dizzy.
“What would an investment company want with a baby?”
Daniel looked at me.
“Northbridge wasn't just an investment company.”
Silence.
He continued.
“They owned laboratories.”
I stared at him.
“Genetics.”
“Yes.”
“Medical experiments.”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“On children?”
“On anyone they could control.”
Lily's voice was barely audible.
“And babies with rare genetic markers were especially valuable.”
I looked at my own hands.
“Mine.”
Daniel nodded.
“Yours.”
“But the baby came first.”
“Yes.”
“So she was the original target.”
“No.”
Daniel looked at the photograph.
“She was the original test.”
My blood ran cold.
Lily stepped forward.
“Your mother found out.”
“What did she do?”
“She took you.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
I couldn't follow.
“Why would she take me if the other baby was the one being tested?”
“Because she discovered both children shared the same marker.”
I stopped breathing.
“Both?”
“Yes.”
“Then the baby…”
“Was your biological sister.”
The room went silent.
I stared at Lily.
“But you said—”
“I said I wasn't your biological sister.”
“Then who am I looking at?”
Lily's eyes filled with tears.
“Your sister.”
I looked back at the photograph.
The baby.
My mother.
Victor.
And something in me shifted.
A memory surfaced.
A lullaby.
My mother singing softly.
Not to me.
To someone else.
I was standing outside a bedroom door.
Four years old.
My mother was inside holding a baby.
She kept whispering:
“Don't let them take her.”
I had pushed the door open.
She'd looked at me and screamed.
“Emma, go!”
I stumbled backward.
The memory disappeared.
I grabbed the table.
“I remember.”
Daniel moved toward me.
“What?”
“She had the baby.”
“Your mother?”
“Yes.”
“She was holding her.”
Lily's expression changed.
“What did she say?”
“Don't let them take her.”
Lily closed her eyes.
“I knew it.”
I looked at her.
“Knew what?”
“She didn't abandon the baby.”
“Then what happened?”
“The same night you disappeared from the records.”
I frowned.
“What?”
Lily spoke slowly.
“Your mother took both of you.”
I stared at her.
“Both?”
“Yes.”
“Then why am I the only one who grew up with her?”
“Because you were found.”
“And my sister?”
“Wasn't.”
I felt my throat tighten.
“What does that mean?”
“She was taken from the car.”
My eyes widened.
“By Victor?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Lily looked at Daniel.
Daniel looked away.
I stepped closer.
“Daniel.”
He swallowed.
“My father.”
Victor.
“Victor took her.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because he needed a reason for your mother to come back.”
My chest tightened.
“She gave him me instead?”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
“She refused.”
“Then?”
“Victor threatened her.”
“With my sister?”
“Yes.”
I felt tears burning my eyes.
“What did my mother do?”
“She disappeared.”
“And left my sister?”
“No.”
Daniel shook his head.
“She spent years looking for her.”
The answer made me stop.
“Then why did she tell me I was an only child?”
“Because every person who knew about your sister became a target.”
Lily spoke quietly.
“Your mother believed the safest way to protect you was to convince everyone the other child never existed.”
I looked at the photograph.
“That failed.”
“Yes.”
“Who knew?”
“Your mother.”
“Victor.”
“Robert.”
“Daniel.”
“And me.”
I stared at Lily.
“How?”
She looked away.
“Because I was there when they took her.”
The room went completely still.
“You were there?”
Lily nodded.
“I saw the car.”
“What did it look like?”
“Black.”
My stomach dropped.
The memory of the white car flickered in my mind.
“You said black.”
“It was.”
“But I remember white.”
Lily's face tightened.
“That isn't what you remember.”
I looked at Daniel.
He nodded slowly.
“Your mother altered the story you remembered.”
“How?”
“She made sure you remembered yourself being rescued.”
I shook my head.
“Why?”
“Because if you remembered the actual car, you'd remember the license plate.”
I stared at him.
“The license plate?”
Daniel nodded.
“You saw it.”
“What was on it?”
He looked at Lily.
She whispered the answer.
“Seven.”
I waited.
“Seven what?”
“Seven letters.”
She stared into my eyes.
“Your father's name.”
My breath caught.
“Victor Hale?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
Before she could answer, Daniel's phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed instantly.
“What?”
He answered.
“Hello?”
A man's voice came through.
This time, it wasn't distorted.
It was clear.
Cold.
Controlled.
Daniel went completely still.
“Who is this?”
The voice laughed softly.
“You know exactly who this is.”
Daniel's face lost all color.
I watched him.
“Put it on speaker.”
He didn't.
“Daniel.”
The voice on the phone said:
“Emma is finally asking the right questions.”
I stepped closer.
Daniel's hand tightened around the phone.
The voice continued.
“She wants to know about the second child.”
Daniel said nothing.
“She deserves to know.”
“Leave her alone.”
“You already failed to protect her once.”
Daniel's eyes closed.
“Don't.”
The voice laughed again.
“Tell her where the baby went.”
I heard a click.
The call ended.
For several seconds, Daniel remained frozen.
Then my phone vibrated.
A new message.
One sentence.
Your sister is alive.
My breath caught.
Another message arrived.
And she has been living under your name for twenty-eight years.
I looked at Daniel.
He had seen it.
His face told me the same thing my mother had spent twenty-eight years hiding.
This wasn't a missing child.
This wasn't an old family secret.
Someone had been living as me.
May you like
And whoever they were—
they were coming back.
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