CHAPTER 8 — THE CHILDREN BEHIND THE DOOR
The scream tore through the darkness.
“Mom!”
Noah.
I ran toward the sound.
“NOAH!”
Ryan caught my arm.
“Claire, wait!”
“Let go!”
“We can't see.”
“I don't care!”
I pulled free.
Then emergency lights flickered on.
The corridor glowed red.
Diane was gone.
So were the two men.
Daniel stood alone beside the elevator, trembling.
I rushed toward him.
“Where is Noah?”
He pointed toward the far end of the corridor.
“Down there.”
Ryan grabbed my hand.
We ran.
A steel door stood open.
Beyond it was another hallway.
I could hear Noah crying.
“Mom!”
“I'm coming!”
We reached the end.
Nothing.
No Noah.
Only an empty room.
A chair.
A table.
A small glass of water.
And a child's drawing taped to the wall.
I stepped closer.
It was a picture of a family.
A mother.
A father.
A little boy.
And behind them—
a tall woman with black eyes.
Underneath the drawing were four words.
SHE TAKES THE BOYS.
Ryan stared at it.
“Claire…”
I turned.
“What?”
“This isn't about Noah.”
“What do you mean?”
“It never was.”
I looked at him.
“Then what is it about?”
He didn't answer.
Daniel did.
“Blood.”
I looked at the boy.
“What?”
He swallowed.
“She needs their blood.”
My stomach turned.
“Whose blood?”
“Children.”
“Why?”
Daniel looked frightened.
“I don't know.”
Ryan crouched beside him.
“Who told you?”
“Evan.”
“Where is Evan?”
Daniel pointed toward another door.
“Behind there.”
Ryan stood.
“Let's go.”
We opened it.
A narrow staircase descended.
Again.
Always stairs.
Always locked rooms.
Always children hidden beneath ordinary places.
We went down.
At the bottom was a massive underground facility.
Not a basement.
A laboratory.
Metal doors.
Medical equipment.
Old monitors.
Refrigerated cabinets.
And walls covered with patient numbers.
I stopped.
“No.”
Ryan walked past me.
His face had gone pale.
“My father built this.”
“You knew?”
“I didn't know it was this large.”
Daniel stayed close to me.
I saw dozens of hospital beds.
Some empty.
Some covered.
A row of children's drawings hung along one wall.
Dinosaurs.
Flowers.
Houses.
Families.
The drawings were old.
Some looked decades old.
I walked toward them.
One drawing showed a little boy standing behind a door.
Beside him was another boy.
They were holding hands.
Underneath was a sentence:
RYAN PROMISED TO COME BACK.
I froze.
“Ryan.”
He came over.
He stared at the drawing.
His face collapsed.
“I remember this.”
“When?”
“When I was seventeen.”
“Who drew it?”
“Evan.”
I turned toward him.
“You came here.”
“Yes.”
“With Evan?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Ryan sat down.
“My father brought us here.”
“Why?”
“He wanted us to see something.”
“What?”
“The children.”
I looked around.
“How many?”
“I don't know.”
“You knew about this.”
“I knew there were children.”
“But not this.”
“No.”
“Why did Evan draw that?”
Ryan stared at the picture.
“Because I promised him I'd come back.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“My mother found out.”
“And?”
“She locked me in my room.”
I looked at him.
“For how long?”
“Three days.”
“And Evan?”
“He disappeared.”
I looked around the facility.
“You think this is where he was taken?”
“Yes.”
Daniel suddenly pointed toward a door.
“That's where he was.”
I looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“He told me.”
Ryan rushed to the door.
It was locked.
He tried the handle.
Nothing.
I saw a keypad.
A number.
17.
I entered it.
The door opened.
Inside was a small room.
One chair.
One camera.
One mattress.
And writing on the wall.
Hundreds of lines.
Children had counted days.
1
2
3
4
The numbers went on.
Some were scratched out.
Some repeated.
At the bottom was a name.
EVAN.
Ryan touched it.
His hand trembled.
“He was here.”
I looked at the wall.
“How long?”
A voice answered from behind us.
“Six years.”
We turned.
Evan stood in the doorway.
Alive.
Older.
Exhausted.
But unmistakably Ryan's brother.
I stepped toward him.
“Where is Noah?”
Evan looked at Daniel.
Then at me.
“He's safe.”
“Where?”
“Not here.”
“Then where?”
“I moved him before they could get him.”
I nearly collapsed.
“Take me to him.”
“I will.”
“Now.”
“Not yet.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because if we move too soon, Diane will know.”
“She already knows.”
Evan shook his head.
“She knows you came here.”
“What does she want?”
“Not Noah.”
“Then what?”
Evan looked at Ryan.
“You.”
Ryan froze.
“Me?”
“She needs your signature.”
“For what?”
“The inheritance.”
I frowned.
“What inheritance?”
Evan continued.
“Your father left everything to you.”
Ryan shook his head.
“No. My mother inherited the estate.”
“She made it look that way.”
“What are you saying?”
“Your father changed his will.”
Ryan stared at him.
“When?”
“Before he died.”
“Why didn't I know?”
“Because Diane destroyed the original.”
“Where is it?”
Evan pointed toward the laboratory.
“Here.”
We followed him.
He opened a locked cabinet.
Inside was a folder.
Ryan opened it.
The first page was a will.
Thomas Carter had left his estate to:
Ryan Michael Carter
and
Evan Thomas Carter.
Equal shares.
I stared.
“Then Diane had no legal right to control it.”
“No.”
“Why would she?”
“Because the estate included the medical network.”
“What network?”
Evan looked at me.
“The children.”
I felt sick.
“My father wasn't just treating children,” Ryan whispered.
Evan shook his head.
“He was selling identities.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
“And Diane?”
“Control.”
I looked at the papers.
“What does Noah have to do with the inheritance?”
Evan took another document.
“This.”
It was a DNA report.
I read it.
My name.
Ryan's name.
Noah's name.
And—
Evan's.
The report stated that Noah was biologically related to both Ryan and Evan.
I looked at Ryan.
“Of course he's related to you.”
Evan shook his head.
“That's not what it means.”
“What?”
“The DNA doesn't match Ryan as Noah's father.”
I froze.
“What?”
Ryan stared at the report.
“That can't be.”
Evan looked at me.
“Your husband isn't Noah's biological father.”
I felt the world stop.
I looked at Ryan.
He looked shattered.
“I didn't know.”
“You didn't?”
“No.”
I stepped backward.
“Then who is?”
Evan looked at me.
“Me.”
Silence.
I couldn't breathe.
“No.”
Evan nodded.
“Noah is my son.”
Ryan closed his eyes.
I stared at him.
“This isn't possible.”
“It is.”
“When?”
“Eight years ago.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Evan continued.
“You were already pregnant when you met Ryan.”
I looked at Ryan.
He whispered,
“I knew you were pregnant.”
My heart shattered.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“And you married me anyway?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I loved you.”
“But you knew Noah wasn't yours.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Ryan's voice broke.
“Because I was told Noah would be killed if I did.”
I turned toward Evan.
“Who told him?”
Evan looked toward the ceiling.
“My mother.”
Diane.
Again.
Always Diane.
I felt sick.
“She knew Noah was your child.”
“Yes.”
“Why did she want him?”
“Because of the bloodline.”
I shook my head.
“What bloodline?”
Evan showed me another document.
A genetic study.
The Carter family carried a rare genetic marker.
It had been used in an experimental medical program.
I stared at the page.
“Why would anyone care?”
“Because the marker makes certain children valuable.”
“Valuable?”
“Financially.”
I looked at the children’s drawings.
My stomach turned.
“You were experimenting on them.”
Evan didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Ryan stepped toward him.
“How many?”
“I don't know.”
“You were here.”
“I escaped.”
“How?”
“My father helped me.”
“Then why did he die?”
Evan looked at him.
“Because Mother found out.”
Ryan's face crumpled.
“She killed him.”
Evan nodded.
“And blamed it on the stairs.”
I closed my eyes.
Everything was becoming clear.
The father.
The basement.
The missing children.
The altered records.
The secret network.
The lies.
But one question remained.
“Where is Noah?”
Evan looked at me.
“There's one place Diane can't enter.”
“Where?”
“The old Carter estate.”
I frowned.
“The mansion?”
“Yes.”
“Why can't she enter?”
“Because your father transferred ownership.”
“To whom?”
Evan looked at Ryan.
“To Noah.”
Ryan stared.
“What?”
“He put the property in the child's name eight years ago.”
I looked at Evan.
“Before Noah was born?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because your father knew the child would exist.”
My blood ran cold.
“How could he know?”
Evan's expression darkened.
“Because he arranged the pregnancy.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“He knew you.”
I shook my head.
“You've never met me.”
Evan looked away.
“My father knew you before Ryan did.”
“No.”
“He selected you.”
“For what?”
“To carry the child.”
My heart stopped.
“You're saying my pregnancy was planned?”
“Yes.”
“By your father?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Evan hesitated.
“Because he needed a child with your blood and ours.”
I stepped backward.
“No.”
I looked at Ryan.
“You knew?”
He shook his head.
“I swear I didn't.”
I believed him.
For the first time in hours, I believed him.
Because he looked as horrified as I felt.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.
A photograph.
Noah.
He was sitting in a room.
Alive.
Behind him stood Diane.
She was smiling.
Under the picture:
COME TO THE CARTER ESTATE.
Another message appeared.
BRING RYAN.
Then another.
LEAVE EVAN.
I looked at Evan.
He stared at the phone.
“They found us.”
Ryan grabbed my hand.
“We need to go.”
Evan shook his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“They want you at the estate.”
“Then that's where we're going.”
“You don't understand.”
Evan stepped closer.
“The estate isn't a safe place.”
“Why?”
“Because that's where it all began.”
I stared at him.
“What began?”
He looked at Ryan.
“Your father's experiments.”
Then he looked at me.
“And Noah's real purpose.”
My heart stopped.
“What purpose?”
Evan whispered,
“Your son wasn't born to replace another child.”
“He was born to finish something.”
I felt sick.
“What?”
Evan looked toward the photograph.
May you like
Then he said the words that made my blood run cold.
“Your son was the only child who survived the experiment.”
