Chapter 6 - What Derek Bought
Derek called me at sunrise.
I answered before Luka could stop me.
“Where are you?”
Derek demanded.
“With someone who didn’t leave me six hours after labor.”
“Emma, this is serious.”
“I know.”
“I need you to listen.”
“No.”
I had spent seven years listening.
Now he would.
“You stole my father’s credentials.”
Silence.
“You transferred M-17.”
Nothing.
“You knew the donor wasn’t you.”
“Emma—”
“You let me believe Grace was conceived with your genetic material.”
“I was ashamed.”
I laughed.
It sounded ugly.
“You committed fraud because you were ashamed?”
“I panicked.”
“For three years?”
“I wanted a family.”
“You wanted ownership.”
“No.”
“Then why is your father holding mine?”
Derek breathed heavily.
“You don’t understand what Victor is capable of.”
“I’m beginning to.”
“Then get away from Luka.”
I looked through the library window.
Luka stood outside on the terrace with Grace.
He was holding her like someone had handed him an unexploded device.
One hand supported her head.
The other supported almost her entire body.
Grace slept peacefully.
“I feel safer with him than I ever did with you.”
Derek’s voice broke.
“That’s my daughter.”
I closed my eyes.
“Is she?”
He went silent.
There it was.
The question destroying him.
“I raised this possibility with Mercer.”
“Raised what?”
“The donor issue.”
“How much did you know?”
“I knew Dad had an archived donor code.”
“I thought it belonged to someone anonymous.”
“Liar.”
“I swear.”
“You saw Luka and looked terrified.”
“Because I recognized his name from the file.”
“You knew enough to recognize him.”
“Yes.”
Finally.
Truth.
Small.
Late.
But truth.
“Why abandon us?”
Derek said nothing.
“Tell me.”
His voice became almost inaudible.
“Brittany found out.”
“About the infertility?”
“About everything.”
“And?”
“She said if the baby wasn’t mine, I needed to protect myself legally.”
I felt physically sick.
“So you walked away.”
“I was coming back.”
“With lawyers.”
“Yes.”
“And a custody claim.”
Silence.
“How much is Grace worth?”
“That isn’t fair.”
“How much?”
“Emma.”
“HOW MUCH?”
He whispered the number.
“Potentially eight hundred million.”
Everything went quiet.
Not because I cared about the number.
Because I suddenly understood everyone else.
Victor.
Brittany.
Derek.
The deleted records.
The duplicate hospital bracelet.
They were not fighting over a baby.
They were fighting over an asset.
My daughter.
I hung up.
Luka entered carrying Grace.
He placed her gently into my arms.
“She likes walking.”
“She’s one day old.”
“She has preferences.”
I looked at him.
“Eight hundred million?”
He stopped.
“Derek told you.”
“Yes.”
“Is it true?”
“Possibly.”
“How?”
“The Moretti trust owns controlling positions in private companies.”
“My father wrote a succession clause.”
“The first verified biological child in my direct line receives a protected beneficial interest.”
“Why would anyone structure a trust like that?”
“Because my father was insane.”
He sat across from me.
“I never intended to have children.”
The sentence hurt more than it should have.
He noticed.
“That came out wrong.”
“I’m not asking you to want her.”
“I didn’t say I don’t.”
“Then what are you saying?”
He rubbed his tattooed hands together.
“I’m saying I built my entire life assuming no child would ever inherit the damage attached to my name.”
I looked at Grace.
“And now?”
He looked at her too.
“Now someone created one without asking either of us.”
That was when I understood.
We were both victims of the same crime.
Different ways.
Same violation.
And somewhere, Victor Holloway was counting on us blaming each other.
My phone buzzed.
Another message.
This one was from my father.
Only three words.
DON’T TRADE M-17.
Then a second message arrived.
ELENA IS ALIVE.
I stared at the screen.
May you like
My mother’s name was Elena.
She had been dead for twenty-three years.
