Chapter 10 - The Woman in Room 417
My mother remembered me.
Not immediately.
That was worse.
When Elena arrived at Luka’s estate, I stood at the bottom of the staircase holding Grace.
She entered slowly with my father beside her.
She looked around the room.
Then at Luka.
Recognition came first.
“Little Luca.”
Luka froze.
Nobody called him that.
Not anymore.
My mother smiled weakly.
“You finally got tattoos.”
He laughed.
Then cried.
I had never imagined a man like Luka Moretti crying.
He embraced her carefully.
Twenty-three years collapsed in one moment.
Then she saw me.
Her smile disappeared.
She stared at my face.
I waited.
Nothing.
My heart broke.
“Mom?”
She looked confused.
My father touched her arm.
“Elena.”
“This is Emma.”
Her breathing changed.
She took one step toward me.
Then another.
Her hand rose.
Touched my cheek.
“Two years old.”
she whispered.
“I’m twenty-five.”
She began trembling.
“I missed it.”
I could not answer.
“I missed all of it.”
Then she saw Grace.
“Is that…”
“Your granddaughter.”
My mother covered her mouth.
We cried together.
No dramatic speeches.
No explanations.
Just grief for twenty-three stolen years.
That night, Elena remembered something else.
Room 417.
She repeated the number three times.
Luka asked what it meant.
She could not say.
My father eventually remembered.
Moretti Biomedical’s old research wing had numbered laboratories.
417 was an embryo-storage control room.
The building still existed.
Abandoned.
Scheduled for demolition.
We went the next morning.
I insisted.
Luka stopped arguing after realizing I would go without him.
Room 417 was behind two locked doors.
Inside, dust covered everything.
Old computers.
Empty storage racks.
Metal cabinets.
Elena walked slowly.
Then stopped in front of a wall.
“There.”
Behind a loose panel was a plastic envelope.
Inside was a flash drive.
And a handwritten notebook.
My mother had hidden evidence before the crash.
Victor had never found it.
Luka opened the notebook.
Payment records.
Access logs.
Names.
Hundreds.
Then we reached one page.
PROJECT SUCCESSION
The entry described unauthorized attempts to use preserved reproductive samples connected to wealthy family trusts.
Not only Luka.
Other donors.
Other families.
Children created as financial instruments.
My stomach turned.
“This happened to other women?”
Luka said nothing.
My mother started crying.
“I tried.”
She remembered.
“I tried to stop them.”
The flash drive contained the rest.
Video.
Audio.
Internal memos.
Victor Holloway.
Dr. Mercer.
Senior Moretti executives.
The scheme had existed for decades.
Then one file appeared.
Created seven years ago.
EMMA REED CONTACT APPROVED.
A video opened.
Victor sat across from Derek.
My husband looked younger.
Nervous.
Victor slid a photograph of me across the table.
“Meet her.”
Derek frowned.
“Why?”
“Because Elena’s daughter is the cleanest path back to the trust.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
Victor smiled.
“Make her fall in love with you.”
The video continued.
I wanted to stop it.
I could not.
Derek asked,
“And if I fall in love with her?”
Victor laughed.
“Then you’ll have even more reason to make sure she never learns why you met.”
Seven years later, that sentence hurt worse than anything Derek had said in the hospital.
Then another voice came from off camera.
A woman.
Brittany.
“Once the child exists, the rest is paperwork.”
May you like
I stared at the screen.
Brittany had been part of my marriage before I had even met my husband.
