Chapter 9 - THE PRICE OF A DAUGHTER
I did not cry.
Not then.
The absence of tears frightened me.
I stood beside Ivy’s empty bassinet while every part of my body screamed one command.
Get her back.
Luka read the note twice.
Then examined the room.
No broken window.
No blood.
No obvious struggle.
Sloane checked the kitchen.
“Marianne’s medication is gone.”
“What does that mean?”
“She may have left under threat.”
“Or they took her.”
“Yes.”
I turned toward Luka.
“We go.”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
I stared.
“He has my baby.”
“Yes.”
“He said midnight.”
“I can read.”
“Then move.”
Luka stepped closer.
“Charles wants the archive.”
“I’ll give it to him.”
“No.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“You think I care about your archive?”
“No.”
“Your patents?”
“No.”
“Your brother’s shares?”
“No.”
“Then why are you saying no?”
“Because if you give Charles everything, you remove the only reason he has to keep Ivy alive.”
The words hit me so hard I stopped.
Luka continued.
“You do not hand a man leverage before you have the person he is leveraging.”
I hated him for saying it.
Because he was right.
Sloane closed her eyes.
“He will have her inside St. Anne’s.”
“How do you know?”
“The neonatal research wing.”
My stomach turned.
“What is that?”
“An old unit beneath the maternity floors.”
Luka looked at her.
“Vault C?”
“Yes.”
The missing sample location.
The same place Charles had stored M-17.
I held the edge of the bassinet.
“He took my daughter to the room where he stored Matteo’s stolen DNA.”
Sloane whispered.
“Yes.”
Rage became useful.
“What security?”
She described it.
Two entrances.
Badge access.
Old service corridor.
Backup power.
Private elevators.
Charles had converted part of the original laboratory into a restricted research archive.
Officially decommissioned.
Unofficially still active.
“We can get in through pathology.”
Sloane looked at Luka.
“One service passage remains.”
“You’re sure?”
“My mother used it.”
Luka nodded.
“Then we don’t walk through the front door.”
I grabbed the archive drive.
“We still bring this.”
“No.”
“Luka.”
“A copy.”
He took the original.
Placed it in a sealed evidence bag.
Then handed me a duplicate.
“If he destroys it, we lose nothing.”
“What if he checks?”
“He will.”
Sloane said.
“So the copy must be perfect.”
We created one.
Every file.
Every timestamp.
Every hidden folder.
But we inserted a tracker into the drive casing.
Not digital.
Physical.
A tiny locator.
At 10:47 p.m., we entered St. Anne’s through an underground loading dock.
I had left the hospital twenty-three hours earlier.
It felt like another lifetime.
I wore borrowed black pants and a loose sweatshirt.
My body still hurt.
I moved anyway.
Sloane led us through pathology.
Nobody stopped her.
Her access credentials still worked.
That frightened her.
“He wants me here.”
Luka nodded.
“Probably.”
We reached a steel door.
Sloane scanned her badge.
Red.
Again.
Red.
Then the lock clicked from the other side.
The door opened.
Evan stood there.
I froze.
He looked worse than before.
Bruising along his jaw.
One eye swollen.
Wrists marked.
But alive.
He stared at me.
“Grace.”
I almost hit him.
Instead I grabbed his shirt.
“Where is Ivy?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“With Marianne.”
“Where?”
“Level C.”
“Take me.”
He looked at Luka.
“Charles expects you.”
“Good.”
Evan shook his head.
“No.”
“He expects you dead.”
Luka smiled faintly.
“That’s more familiar.”
I pulled Evan closer.
“My daughter.”
“I know.”
“No.”
My voice shook.
“You do not know.”
He closed his eyes.
“You’re right.”
“Take me to her.”
He nodded.
We moved through the service corridor.
Evan explained in whispers.
Charles had brought him back to St. Anne’s.
Sloane’s escape had enraged him.
Then Charles received the cemetery alert.
He knew we had found Thomas’s archive.
“How did he get Mom?”
Evan’s face darkened.
“Rosa.”
I froze.
The nurse.
The woman who had helped us escape.
“No.”
“She was compromised years ago.”
My stomach turned.
“Did Mom know?”
“No.”
Luka’s face went cold.
“Where is Rosa?”
“Gone.”
“Meaning?”
“I don’t know.”
We reached another door.
Evan stopped.
“Listen.”
We did.
Voices.
Charles.
My mother.
Then Ivy crying.
My heart shattered.
I moved.
Evan caught me.
“Wait.”
I nearly screamed.
He pressed his finger to his lips.
Then pointed through a narrow glass panel.
The room beyond looked like a private laboratory.
Marianne sat in a chair.
Hands bound.
Ivy lay in a hospital bassinet beside her.
A nurse stood nearby.
Charles stood behind a desk.
Alive.
Calm.
Perfect suit.
As if kidnapping newborns were merely another board meeting.
A second man stood near the wall.
I recognized him from the hospital.
One of Charles’s security men.
Luka whispered.
“Two visible.”
Sloane said.
“More outside.”
Evan looked at me.
“Charles thinks you came alone.”
“How?”
“I told him Luka abandoned you.”
Luka looked at Evan.
“Finally, a lie I appreciate.”
Evan opened a maintenance panel.
“Alarm controls.”
Sloane smiled grimly.
“My mother taught you.”
“She taught both of us.”
The mention of Elaine cut through Sloane.
Then she focused.
“We need ninety seconds.”
Luka looked at me.
“You wait here.”
“No.”
“Grace.”
“No.”
He saw my face.
He stopped arguing.
“Stay behind me.”
Evan triggered a fire alarm.
Sirens exploded.
Lights flashed.
The nurse panicked.
Charles did not.
He turned toward the service door immediately.
“Open it.”
The guard moved.
Luka struck first.
The door flew inward.
Chaos.
Sloane killed the lights.
Evan tackled the guard.
My mother screamed my name.
I ran to Ivy.
Charles stepped in front of the bassinet.
“Stop.”
I froze.
He held a syringe.
My blood turned to ice.
Not pointed at Ivy.
Held near the IV port attached to a small monitoring line beside her bassinet.
“She does not need that.”
His voice was calm.
“Don’t make this dramatic.”
I stared at him.
“You kidnapped my child.”
“I protected my granddaughter.”
“She is not your granddaughter.”
“Legally, she will be.”
“Never.”
He smiled.
“You misunderstand how law works.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You misunderstand how mothers work.”
His eyes hardened.
“Give me the drive.”
I held it up.
“Give me Ivy.”
“Drive first.”
“No.”
“Grace.”
My mother’s voice was strained.
“Do not give it to him.”
Charles laughed.
“Marianne always preferred principles to people.”
My mother stared at him.
“And you always confused possession with love.”
His smile disappeared.
I looked at Ivy.
Her face was red from crying.
My entire body ached to touch her.
“Let me hold her.”
“Drive.”
“One arm.”
“No.”
I looked at the syringe.
“What is in that?”
“Sedative.”
“For who?”
His smile returned.
“You, if necessary.”
I believed him.
Behind me, I heard a struggle.
Luka.
Evan.
Another guard.
Sloane shouting.
But the room narrowed to Charles and Ivy.
He lowered the syringe.
“Your father made this difficult.”
“My father died because of you.”
“Thomas died because he could not understand scale.”
“What scale?”
“Millions of patients treated.”
He gestured toward the laboratory.
“Cancer therapies.”
“Research.”
“Jobs.”
“Entire hospitals.”
“All built on stolen work.”
He shrugged.
“History rewards outcomes.”
“You used people without consent.”
“History forgets process.”
“Not anymore.”
I held up the drive.
He stared at it.
“Put it on the desk.”
I did.
Slowly.
He reached.
I kicked it off the desk.
It slid beneath a cabinet.
Charles swore.
I lunged for Ivy.
He grabbed my arm.
Pain tore through me.
My mother screamed.
Then Charles jerked backward.
Evan had him.
My husband wrapped one arm around his father’s shoulders.
Charles drove an elbow into his ribs.
Evan held on.
“Get Ivy!”
I grabbed my daughter.
The second she touched my chest, everything inside me came back to life.
She screamed.
I cried.
I pressed my face into her hair.
“I’m here.”
“I’m here.”
“I’m here.”
Luka entered.
Blood at his lip.
He grabbed Charles.
Sloane freed my mother.
The nurse fled.
Evan collapsed against the desk.
I looked at him.
He nodded.
“Go.”
Charles laughed.
Even restrained, he looked confident.
“You think this changes anything?”
Luka tightened his grip.
Charles looked at me.
“You still need the truth.”
“I have enough.”
“No.”
His eyes glittered.
“You have the version Marianne wanted you to find.”
My mother froze.
I noticed.
Charles did too.
He smiled.
“Ask her.”
I looked at my mother.
“Ask her what?”
Charles’s voice softened.
“Ask who authorized your birth transfer.”
My stomach turned.
“Dad?”
“No.”
“Elaine?”
“No.”
He smiled.
“Marianne.”
Silence.
I stared at my mother.
She went pale.
“No.”
Charles laughed.
“Oh, yes.”
He looked directly at me.
“Your mother signed the first M-17 consent form.”
My throat closed.
Marianne shook her head.
“It wasn’t what you think.”
Charles’s smile widened.
“It never is.”
I looked at her.
“What did you sign?”
She began crying.
“Grace.”
“What did you sign?”
Charles answered.
“She signed away custody of her unborn child.”
My entire body went cold.
May you like
He continued.
“To me.”
