PART 7 — THE FINAL PHASE
The words on the screen wouldn't leave my mind.
FINAL PHASE BEGINS AFTER CLAIRE'S DELIVERY.
My baby.
Everything came back to my baby.
I looked at Ryan.
“What happens after I give birth?”
He didn't answer.
“Ryan.”
His eyes dropped.
“I don't know.”
“You know something.”
“I know enough to be afraid.”
My attorney stepped between us.
“Start talking.”
Ryan looked at him.
“I can't.”
The detective grabbed his arm.
“You can.”
Ryan pulled away.
“You don't understand who we're dealing with.”
“Your mother-in-law?”
Ryan shook his head.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Your mother.”
The room went silent.
I stared at him.
“My mother wants my baby?”
Ryan closed his eyes.
“She wants something your baby has.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
“Then find out.”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
He sat down.
“I found out Evelyn was alive shortly after our engagement.”
My chest tightened.
“She contacted me.”
“What did she want?”
“To know whether I loved you.”
I almost laughed.
“And what did you tell her?”
“That I did.”
“Then why did you marry me?”
“Because she said marrying you was the only way to protect you.”
My attorney interrupted.
“From whom?”
Ryan looked at him.
“Your father.”
I shook my head.
“My father is supposedly hiding from everyone.”
“He isn't hiding.”
Ryan looked at me.
“He's hunting her.”
The detective frowned.
“Why?”
“Because Evelyn stole something from him.”
“What?”
Ryan hesitated.
“An account.”
My attorney leaned forward.
“What account?”
“The Black Account.”
The detective frowned.
“Explain.”
Ryan shook his head.
“I never saw it.”
“Then how do you know it exists?”
“Because Evelyn told me.”
“What is it?”
“Two hundred and eighty-seven million dollars.”
Silence.
I felt sick.
“Where did it come from?”
Ryan stared at me.
“People.”
“What does that mean?”
“People who disappeared.”
My blood ran cold.
My attorney immediately said:
“Are you saying the account contains money connected to criminal activity?”
Ryan nodded.
“Your father took money from companies, trusts, estates. Sometimes people died before they could recover it.”
I stared at him.
“And my mother found it?”
“Yes.”
“What does that have to do with my baby?”
Ryan looked at my stomach.
“Your mother believes the account can only be unlocked by a descendant.”
I froze.
“Me?”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“Your child.”
The room went silent.
I placed my hand over my stomach.
“You're telling me my unborn baby is a key?”
Ryan nodded.
“Apparently.”
My attorney stood.
“That's impossible.”
“Not if Evelyn planned it.”
“What does she need?”
“A biometric confirmation.”
My heart pounded.
“From my baby?”
“After birth.”
I stared at Ryan.
“And that's why everyone is waiting.”
“Yes.”
Grant hadn't attacked me because he hated me.
He had attacked me because he needed me weak.
Ryan hadn't stolen my money because he wanted to become rich.
He had been moving pieces around a much larger board.
But there was still one question.
“If you were protecting me…”
I looked at Ryan.
“Why did you hold me down?”
His face collapsed.
“I was afraid.”
“You watched him burn me.”
“I know.”
“You let him hurt my baby.”
“I know.”
“Then don't tell me you were protecting me.”
He lowered his head.
“I stopped being your protector a long time ago.”
The detective handcuffed him.
Ryan didn't resist.
Before they took him away, he looked at me.
“There is one thing you need to know.”
“What?”
“Your mother doesn't want to hurt you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“She forged documents.”
“Yes.”
“She took forty-three million dollars.”
“Yes.”
“She wants control of my estate.”
“Yes.”
“And you still think she doesn't want to hurt me?”
Ryan looked terrified.
“She thinks she's saving you.”
“From what?”
He whispered:
“From your father.”
The door closed behind him.
I turned toward my attorney.
“I want everything.”
“What?”
“Every file. Every transfer. Every recording. Every name.”
He nodded.
“You'll have it.”
“And I want to go home.”
He hesitated.
“Claire…”
“My house.”
“Your penthouse is being processed as a crime scene.”
I stared at him.
“Then I'll wait.”
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message.
Don't trust Ryan.
Another appeared immediately.
Don't trust your father either.
Then a third.
Trust the woman who raised you.
I stared at the screen.
My mother.
Except—
my mother had supposedly died when I was nineteen.
Who had raised me after that?
My aunt.
Eleanor.
I looked at my attorney.
“Call Eleanor.”
He did.
She answered on the first ring.
“Claire?”
My voice shook.
“Tell me the truth.”
Silence.
“About what?”
“About my mother.”
Nothing.
Then I heard her breathe.
“Claire…”
“Is she alive?”
Another silence.
Then Eleanor whispered:
“Yes.”
My heart stopped.
“And she isn't the woman you think she is.”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Then the hospital lights suddenly went out.
The hallway fell completely dark.
May you like
And somewhere outside my room—
a woman screamed.
