Chapter 8 - THE MAN WHO CALLED HIMSELF MICHAEL
We ran.
David pushed open a service door at the end of the hallway.
A narrow staircase led downward.
Margaret went first.
Emily followed.
I was behind her.
David came last.
Melissa was nowhere.
I turned.
“Where is Melissa?”
David stopped.
“She was behind me.”
“She isn't now.”
He looked back toward the hallway.
“Keep moving.”
“No.”
I stepped toward him.
“You're not leaving her.”
“I have to get you out.”
“You brought her into this.”
“She chose this.”
“She chose you.”
His face tightened.
“That's not what this was.”
I almost shouted.
“Then what was it?”
He didn't answer.
A noise came from above.
Someone was running down the stairs.
David grabbed my hand.
“Move.”
We reached the underground parking level.
Margaret led us toward a black sedan.
She opened the rear door.
“Get in.”
Emily climbed inside.
I followed.
David started the engine.
Margaret got into the passenger seat.
We drove.
No one spoke for several minutes.
Then I asked:
“Who is pretending to be Michael?”
Margaret looked at David.
He said nothing.
“David.”
His jaw tightened.
“The man I believed was Michael was named Michael.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“He had the same records.”
“Fake records?”
“Yes.”
“DNA?”
“Compromised.”
“How?”
“Your father's people had access to medical records.”
I stared out the window.
“Then how did you know?”
“I didn't.”
“Seven years.”
“I suspected.”
“You risked everything on a suspicion?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“Because your mother told me one thing before she died.”
“What?”
“Never trust the first person who claims to know where Claire is.”
I stared at him.
My real name.
Claire.
He had known it all along.
“And Michael?”
“He came to me claiming to be your brother.”
“What did he want?”
“The trust.”
I felt sick.
“Of course.”
“He said he wanted to protect you.”
“Did you believe him?”
“At first.”
“And then?”
“He tried to kill me.”
Emily turned around.
“What?”
David continued.
“He poisoned my drink.”
I stared at him.
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
“And you survived?”
“Barely.”
I looked at his face.
For the first time, some of the scars I had always assumed came from business accidents suddenly made sense.
“What happened next?”
“I investigated him.”
“And discovered?”
“He wasn't Michael.”
“Who was he?”
“A man named Robert Kane.”
Margaret spoke.
“Robert Kane worked for your father.”
I felt my stomach twist.
“So he knew my family.”
“Yes.”
“Why pretend to be Michael?”
“To get the trust.”
“Where is he now?”
David looked at Margaret.
She answered.
“Dead.”
I frowned.
“Then who is threatening us?”
Nobody answered.
The car stopped at a red light.
I noticed Melissa's pale blue scarf on the floor.
I picked it up.
There was blood on it.
“David.”
He turned.
“That's Melissa's.”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
“I don't know.”
“Go back.”
“No.”
“Go back!”
“We can't.”
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“Because the person who took her wants us to come back.”
My heart sank.
A phone began ringing.
Not David's.
Mine.
I looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then I heard a baby's cry.
I froze.
“Hello?”
A man's voice whispered:
“Your daughter isn't the only child your husband has.”
My blood turned cold.
“Who is this?”
“Ask David about the second baby.”
I looked at him.
He was already staring at me.
The caller continued.
“Then ask him why the first one disappeared.”
The line went dead.
Emily looked terrified.
“Mom?”
I handed her the phone.
“What did he mean?”
David pulled the car to the side of the road.
He looked broken.
“There were two babies.”
I stared at him.
“Two?”
“Yes.”
“Whose?”
“Melissa's.”
I couldn't breathe.
“She had twins?”
“Yes.”
“Where is the second child?”
David closed his eyes.
“We don't know.”
Emily whispered:
“You knew?”
“I found out later.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
David looked at me.
“I was trying to find both children.”
“Why?”
“Because one of them has the trust documents.”
I stared at him.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It will.”
He reached into the glove compartment.
He pulled out a small photograph.
Two newborn babies.
One wore a blue bracelet.
The other wore a red bracelet.
On the back were two names.
Noah Carter.
Lily Carter.
My breath caught.
Carter.
Our family name.
I looked at David.
“These aren't Melissa's children.”
“No.”
“Then whose are they?”
He whispered:
“Your brother's.”
I stared at the photograph.
One baby was alive.
One was missing.
And suddenly I understood why everyone had been so desperate to find them.
May you like
The trust hadn't been left to me.
It had been left to the children.
