Chapter 1 — The Blood That Wasn't Mine
“His.”
Diane's final word hung in the atrium.
I couldn't move.
Michael couldn't move.
Even Lily had stopped crying for a moment.
The entire room seemed to shrink around us.
I stared at my husband.
Then at the document.
Then at Diane.
“Whose blood?” I whispered.
Diane said nothing.
I stepped toward her.
“Whose blood, Diane?”
Her eyes moved toward Michael.
And that was when I saw something I had never seen before.
Fear.
Real fear.
Not the calculated fear she used to manipulate people.
Not the cold fear she used to intimidate employees.
This was different.
She was terrified of Michael.
Michael looked at her.
“Mom.”
Diane flinched.
“Don't call me that.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
She looked away.
“I said don't call me that.”
Michael took another step.
“You've been calling yourself my mother for thirty-seven years.”
Diane's face went pale.
“Emma.”
I looked at her.
“Don't.”
“You need to leave.”
“No.”
“You don't understand what you're doing.”
“I understand that you pushed my daughter off a balcony.”
Diane's jaw tightened.
“I was trying to prevent something worse.”
“What could possibly be worse?”
She looked at Lily.
“Her discovering who she is.”
My stomach twisted.
“She is my daughter.”
“No.”
Diane shook her head.
“She is your daughter.”
Then she looked at Michael.
“But she isn't his.”
Michael stared at her.
“Stop.”
Diane laughed bitterly.
“You still think you're a Bennett.”
Silence.
Michael's face hardened.
“What did you just say?”
Diane looked at him.
“You've spent your entire life believing a lie.”
I looked between them.
“What lie?”
Diane didn't answer.
Michael grabbed the edge of the table.
“Tell me.”
She smiled.
“Ask your father.”
“My father is dead.”
“Exactly.”
The police finally forced Diane downstairs.
She fought them the entire way.
But before the elevator doors closed, she looked directly at me.
“Emma.”
I froze.
“Don't trust the DNA test.”
The doors closed.
I stood there holding Lily.
Michael stared at me.
“What DNA test?”
I looked at the papers.
Then at him.
“I don't know.”
He reached for the document.
I gave it to him.
He read it.
His face changed.
“Emma…”
“What?”
“This isn't a DNA report.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“This is a blood compatibility record.”
He turned the page.
“Look.”
I did.
There were three names.
LILY BENNETT.
EMMA BENNETT.
And a third name.
My hands began shaking.
The third name had been blacked out.
But beneath it was a hospital identification number.
Michael stared at the number.
“I know this.”
“How?”
He didn't answer.
“Michael?”
He looked at me.
“When I was a child, my father had an old medical file.”
“What did it say?”
“That number.”
My heart dropped.
“Why would your father's file have Lily's hospital identification number?”
Michael stared at the paper.
“I don't know.”
Then he noticed something else.
A date.
Thirty-seven years ago.
The same year he was born.
He looked at me.
“Emma…”
“What?”
“I think this isn't about Lily.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think it started with me.”
We went to the hospital that night.
Lily was examined immediately.
Thankfully, she had survived the fall with only minor injuries.
Michael wasn't so lucky.
His shoulder was badly damaged.
But he refused surgery until we understood what Diane had done.
The doctor finally forced him into an examination room.
I stayed with Lily.
At 2:17 a.m., a nurse entered.
“Mrs. Bennett?”
“Yes?”
“Someone requested Lily's records.”
“Who?”
The nurse hesitated.
“Your husband's father.”
I stared at her.
“My husband's father is dead.”
“I know.”
She handed me a printed request.
My blood froze.
The request had been submitted three days earlier.
Under a name I had never seen.
DAVID BENNETT JR.
I looked at Lily.
Then the document.
Then Michael.
“Who is David Bennett Jr.?”
Michael slowly sat up.
“I don't know.”
The nurse left.
Neither of us spoke.
Then Michael said something that made everything worse.
“My father didn't have a brother.”
I looked at him.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then who filed this?”
Michael stared at the door.
“I don't know.”
A moment later, his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
No one spoke.
Then a man's voice whispered:
“Stop looking for the child.”
Michael went completely still.
I grabbed his arm.
“Who is that?”
The voice continued.
“You've already lost one family.”
Michael's face turned white.
“Who are you?”
The man laughed.
“Ask your mother why she changed your name.”
The call ended.
I looked at Michael.
“Changed your name?”
He couldn't answer.
Then Lily began crying.
I picked her up.
As I held her against my chest, something fell from her blanket.
A tiny silver pendant.
I had never seen it before.
I picked it up.
There was a symbol engraved on it.
A small crown.
Inside the crown were three initials.
D.B.H.
Michael stared at it.
“That's my father's symbol.”
I looked at him.
“Then why was it hidden in Lily's blanket?”
He didn't answer.
Because neither of us could escape the same terrifying possibility.
May you like
Someone had known about Lily long before she was born.
And they had been waiting for us to discover the truth.
