Chapter 23 - The Secret Inside Bunny

# Chapter 23 - The Secret Inside Bunny

The photograph showed my daughter's stuffed rabbit lying on a metal table, its stomach cut open.

Inside the torn fabric was a black memory card.

And beneath the photograph were six words that made my blood turn cold.

"We found what Claire was hiding."

For several seconds, I couldn't move.

Bunny wasn't just a toy.

Lily had slept with that rabbit every night since she was two years old. She carried it on family vacations, brought it to doctor's appointments, and refused to leave home without it.

It was the reason she had entered the east-wing storage room.

The reason she had heard Claire knocking.

The reason my wife was alive.

And now someone was telling me that the rabbit contained evidence powerful enough to threaten the people behind Project Meridian.

I called Margaret again.

She answered immediately.

"Mr. Daniel?"

"Margaret, I need you to look at Bunny."

"What?"

"The rabbit. Lily's rabbit. Is it still there?"

"Yes. It's beside her pillow."

My heart began pounding.

"Are you looking at it?"

"One moment."

I heard footsteps.

A door opened.

Then Margaret whispered, "I'm holding it."

"Check the stitching on its stomach."

There was a pause.

"It looks normal."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, sir."

I stared at the photograph on my phone.

The rabbit in the image looked exactly like Bunny.

Same faded brown fur.

Same crooked left ear.

Same little white tail.

But Margaret was holding Lily's rabbit.

Intact.

Untouched.

Someone had sent me a photograph of another rabbit.

Or someone had created a convincing imitation.

"Margaret, don't let anyone near Lily or her belongings. Tell the officers immediately."

"What's happening?"

"I'll explain when I can."

I ended the call and contacted Detective Harris.

"Someone is trying to make me believe they have Bunny."

Harris arrived at the hospital forty minutes later.

Detective Grant accompanied him.

I showed them the photograph and explained Margaret's confirmation.

Grant studied the image.

"Are you certain the rabbit in the photograph is identical to Lily's?"

"As far as I can tell."

"Does Lily own more than one?"

I hesitated.

"She has other stuffed animals. But Bunny is her favorite."

Harris enlarged the image.

"Look at the left ear."

I leaned closer.

"What about it?"

"There's a small repair near the seam."

I stared at the screen.

A line of white stitching crossed the base of the rabbit's ear.

I recognized it.

Claire had repaired Bunny after Lily accidentally tore it during a trip to the beach.

But the stitches in the photograph were different.

Claire had used pale pink thread.

The photographed rabbit had white thread.

"That's not Bunny," I whispered.

Harris nodded.

"Someone may have made a copy."

I felt a chill.

"Why?"

Grant answered.

"To convince you that the evidence has been recovered."

I stared at the memory card.

"Or to make me reveal where the real evidence is."

Harris looked at me.

"Exactly."

I closed my eyes.

Someone had been manipulating me through anonymous messages for days.

They had sent photographs.

Threats.

Partial truths.

They had pointed me toward Marcus, Richard, Eleanor, and Claire.

And now they wanted me to believe the secret inside Bunny had been exposed.

But perhaps the real memory card was still hidden.

Inside the rabbit sleeping beside my daughter.

At eight the following morning, I visited Claire.

She was sitting beside the window, reading a book.

When she saw my expression, she immediately put it down.

"Dan?"

I sat beside her.

"Did you hide a memory card inside Bunny?"

Her face went completely still.

For several seconds, she didn't speak.

Then she whispered, "Where is the rabbit?"

My stomach tightened.

"With Lily."

"Is she safe?"

"Yes."

Claire closed her eyes.

"Oh, thank God."

I leaned forward.

"Claire, answer me."

She looked at me.

"Yes."

My heart stopped.

"You hid something inside Bunny?"

She nodded.

"A memory card."

I stared at her.

"Before you disappeared?"

"Yes."

I felt my pulse accelerate.

"What was on it?"

Claire hesitated.

"Everything I could copy."

"From where?"

"The files Vanessa kept in the east wing. The financial records. The recordings."

I stared at her.

"Project Meridian?"

She nodded.

"Yes."

I felt sick.

For eighteen months, the evidence had been hidden inside a child's toy.

A toy Lily carried everywhere.

A toy Vanessa had searched for.

A toy that had accidentally led Lily to the concealed chamber.

"Why Bunny?" I asked.

Claire's eyes filled with tears.

"Because nobody ever took it away from Lily."

I stared at her.

"Vanessa controlled the house."

"I know."

"She searched rooms."

"I know."

"She had access to everything."

Claire nodded.

"But she never understood how much Lily loved that rabbit."

I looked away.

Then Claire whispered, "I thought if something happened to me, Lily would keep it."

My throat tightened.

"And eventually someone might find what was inside."

She nodded.

"Yes."

I took her hand.

"Claire, what exactly did you copy?"

She looked frightened.

"Documents proving who controlled Meridian."

My heart accelerated.

"Marcus?"

"Partly."

"Richard?"

"Yes."

"Eleanor?"

She hesitated.

"Yes."

I stared at her.

"And Thomas?"

Claire closed her eyes.

"Yes."

I felt the room grow colder.

Every person who had claimed to be protecting our family was connected to the program.

But the memory card might finally reveal who had been making the decisions.

At ten, Harris arranged for Bunny to be collected from Lily's secure location.

A child-protection specialist explained the situation to Lily in simple terms.

She was frightened.

"Is Bunny sick?" she asked.

Margaret later told me about the conversation.

The specialist reassured her that Bunny wasn't hurt.

They needed to check something inside the toy, and they would try to repair it afterward.

Lily agreed only after being promised that the rabbit would be returned.

I felt guilty.

Another piece of her childhood had been pulled into the investigation.

But the evidence might be the only way to protect her.

At noon, Harris called.

"We found it."

I stood.

"The memory card?"

"Yes."

My heart hammered.

"Was it inside Bunny?"

"Hidden beneath the stuffing, near the lower seam."

I closed my eyes.

Claire had told the truth.

"What does it contain?"

"We're examining it now."

"Is it readable?"

"Initial checks suggest so."

I felt a surge of hope.

For the first time, we might have evidence that didn't depend on someone's confession.

Not Vanessa's shifting explanations.

Not Marcus's half-truths.

Not Richard's carefully selected memories.

Not Eleanor's claims.

Actual records.

Preserved before Claire disappeared.

"Detective, please tell me when you know what's on it."

"I will."

Then Harris paused.

"Daniel, there's something else."

My pulse quickened.

"What?"

"The card contains several encrypted folders."

I frowned.

"Can you open them?"

"We're working on it."

I closed my eyes.

Of course.

Even the evidence had secrets.

At two thirty, Marcus called.

I almost ignored him.

Then I answered.

"Daniel."

"What?"

"I heard the police recovered something from Lily's belongings."

My blood ran cold.

"Who told you?"

A pause.

"Someone from the company mentioned a search."

I stared at the wall.

"The company has nothing to do with Lily's belongings."

"I know."

"Then why are you asking?"

Marcus sighed.

"Because I'm worried."

I laughed bitterly.

"About what?"

"That you're being manipulated."

I felt anger rise.

"By whom?"

"Your mother."

I closed my eyes.

"Marcus, stop blaming Eleanor for everything."

"I'm not."

"Then explain."

He hesitated.

"Eleanor knows how to create evidence."

I stared at him.

"What?"

"She helped build Ashcroft House. She controlled parts of Northbridge. She knew how to make people disappear."

"I know."

"Then you should understand that documents can be altered."

I felt a chill.

"Are you telling me the memory card is fake?"

"I don't know what you found."

"Then why mention it?"

Marcus was silent.

I leaned forward.

"Because you're afraid of what's on it."

He didn't answer.

"Marcus."

His voice became quiet.

"Daniel, there are things Claire copied that she didn't understand."

My heart stopped.

"You know about the card."

Silence.

Then Marcus said, "I know she took files."

I gripped the phone.

"How?"

"Vanessa told me."

I closed my eyes.

Of course.

The woman who imprisoned Claire had reported everything to Marcus.

"Did you order Vanessa to search for Bunny?"

Marcus hesitated.

"No."

"Did you send someone to Lily's hotel?"

"No."

"Did you send the photograph of the torn rabbit?"

Another pause.

"Daniel, listen—"

I ended the call.

At four, Harris called with the first results.

"We opened one of the folders."

I stood.

"What was inside?"

"Financial records."

My pulse accelerated.

"Northbridge?"

"Yes."

"Did they identify who controlled the transfers?"

"Some of them."

I felt my heart hammer.

"Who?"

Harris hesitated.

"Marcus Whitmore authorized several transactions."

I closed my eyes.

"And?"

"Richard Mercer approved others."

I stared at the wall.

"Eleanor?"

"Her name appears on several accounts."

I felt sick.

Everyone.

Again.

"Detective, that's what we already knew."

"There's more."

My pulse quickened.

"What?"

"The records include internal correspondence."

"Between whom?"

"Marcus and Evelyn Shaw."

I leaned forward.

"What did they say?"

Harris took a breath.

"One message discusses the neonatal placement plan."

My stomach tightened.

"Lily and Sophie?"

"Yes."

"What about them?"

"Marcus wrote that the original arrangement had become financially unsustainable."

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"According to the message, maintaining separate identities and facilities was costing more than expected."

I stared at the wall.

"Then what did he propose?"

Harris hesitated.

"Consolidation."

My pulse quickened.

"Of what?"

"The children's placements."

I felt sick.

"Meaning?"

"He wanted both girls moved under one legal guardian."

I closed my eyes.

"Marcus."

"Yes."

I stared at the wall.

"And Claire found out."

"Apparently."

My heart hammered.

"Then she tried to take them away."

Harris nodded.

"That fits her account."

For the first time, the pieces aligned.

Claire discovered the plan.

She contacted Evelyn.

She arranged emergency guardianship.

She tried to escape with Lily and Sophie.

Marcus learned about it.

Vanessa locked Claire inside the chamber.

And for eighteen months, Marcus continued moving money while my wife remained imprisoned.

But something still bothered me.

"Detective, why keep Claire alive?"

Harris hesitated.

"That's not fully explained by the financial records."

I looked toward her room.

"Then there must be something else on the card."

At six thirty, I visited Eleanor.

She looked weaker than before.

A nurse was checking her blood pressure when I arrived.

Eleanor smiled faintly.

"Daniel."

I sat beside her.

"Claire hid evidence inside Lily's rabbit."

Her expression changed.

"What?"

"A memory card."

She closed her eyes.

"Oh, Claire."

I studied her.

"Did you know?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

She looked at me.

"Daniel, I know you don't trust me."

I remained silent.

"And I understand why."

I leaned forward.

"Then tell me something true."

She nodded slowly.

"What do you want to know?"

"Who really controlled Meridian?"

Eleanor looked away.

For several seconds, she said nothing.

Then she whispered, "It changed over time."

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"Thomas began the medical research. Richard provided money. I helped establish the facilities."

"And Marcus?"

"He managed the finances."

"Then who made the decisions?"

Eleanor closed her eyes.

"At first, Thomas."

"And later?"

She looked at me.

"Marcus."

I felt a chill.

"Why did you let him?"

"Because he controlled the records."

"What records?"

"Financial evidence. Medical authorizations. Documents that could implicate all of us."

I stared at her.

"He blackmailed you."

Eleanor nodded.

"Yes."

"Richard too?"

"Yes."

"Thomas?"

She hesitated.

"Eventually."

I looked away.

Marcus had spent years positioning himself as the man everyone trusted.

The reliable executive.

The loyal friend.

The person who solved problems.

And all along, he had been collecting secrets.

Using them to control people.

Using them to control money.

Using them to control children.

"Mom," I whispered, "why didn't you tell me?"

Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.

"Because Marcus threatened you."

I closed my eyes.

Another person claiming silence was protection.

But this time, I wondered whether the threat had been real.

At eight fifteen, Harris called again.

His voice was urgent.

"Daniel, we opened another folder."

I stood.

"What was inside?"

"Video recordings."

My pulse accelerated.

"From the hidden chamber?"

"Some."

I felt my chest tighten.

"Claire?"

"Yes."

I closed my eyes.

For eighteen months, someone had recorded my wife inside her prison.

The thought made me sick.

"What do the videos show?"

Harris hesitated.

"Vanessa entering the room. Medical visits. Conversations."

I gripped the phone.

"Anything about Marcus?"

"Yes."

My heart hammered.

"What?"

"One recording shows him entering the chamber."

I froze.

"When?"

"Approximately six months after Claire disappeared."

I stared at the wall.

"Did he speak to her?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

Harris took a breath.

"He told her the children would remain safe if she cooperated."

I closed my eyes.

"And Claire?"

"She refused."

I felt tears fill my eyes.

My wife had resisted.

Even after months of confinement.

Even when Marcus threatened the children.

"What happened next?"

Harris hesitated.

"Marcus showed her a photograph."

My stomach tightened.

"Of whom?"

"Lily."

I closed my eyes.

"At school?"

"Yes."

I felt anger rise.

Then Harris said, "Daniel, there's something unusual about the recording."

"What?"

"Claire asked Marcus a question."

My pulse quickened.

"What question?"

"She asked why he needed Sophie."

I froze.

"And?"

"Marcus said Sophie was necessary for the final phase."

I stared at the wall.

"Financial control?"

Harris hesitated.

"Not entirely."

My stomach tightened.

"What else?"

"Marcus said the final phase required a legal identity."

I frowned.

"A legal identity?"

"Yes."

I felt a chill.

"Whose?"

Harris paused.

"That's what we're trying to understand."

At ten thirty, I returned to Claire.

She was awake.

I sat beside her.

"Claire, the police found the card."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Bunny?"

"Yes."

"Is Lily all right?"

"She's safe."

Claire closed her eyes.

"Thank God."

I took her hand.

"The recordings show Marcus visiting you."

She nodded.

"I know."

"He threatened Lily."

"Yes."

"He mentioned Sophie."

Claire looked frightened.

"Yes."

I leaned forward.

"Why did he need Sophie?"

She hesitated.

"Because of the trust."

"That's what I thought."

Claire shook her head.

"No, Dan. Not just the money."

My stomach tightened.

"What else?"

She looked at me.

"Marcus needed someone who could legally inherit."

I frowned.

"Lily could inherit."

"Yes."

"Then why Sophie?"

Claire closed her eyes.

"Because Lily's identity had been registered differently."

I stared at her.

"What?"

"The original birth records listed Sophie as the child connected to the trust."

My pulse accelerated.

"Then someone switched the names."

Claire nodded.

"Yes."

I felt sick.

"Who?"

She hesitated.

"I don't know."

I stared at her.

"Claire, you told me you held Sophie after the delivery."

"I did."

"And you tried to protect her."

"Yes."

"Then what happened?"

She began crying.

"I thought I was saving Lily."

I froze.

"What?"

Claire looked at me.

"Dan, I thought the baby I was holding was our daughter."

My stomach tightened.

"Then why did the bracelet say Sophie?"

"Because someone had already changed it."

I stared at her.

"Who?"

Claire shook her head.

"I don't know."

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then she whispered, "But Marcus knew."

At midnight, Harris called.

His voice was grave.

"Daniel, we found the final encrypted folder."

I stood.

"What was inside?"

"A legal agreement."

My pulse quickened.

"Between whom?"

"Northbridge Holdings and the Mercer Family Trust."

I stared at the wall.

"What did it concern?"

"The transfer of beneficial interests."

"To whom?"

Harris hesitated.

"A child."

My stomach tightened.

"Lily?"

"No."

"Sophie?"

"Not exactly."

I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

He took a breath.

"The agreement identifies the beneficiary by a legal name that doesn't match either child's current identity."

I felt a chill.

"What name?"

Harris paused.

"Emily Mercer."

I stopped breathing.

Emily.

The name Sophie had sometimes used.

The name connected to the woman who impersonated Claire.

The name that appeared repeatedly throughout the records.

"Detective, Emily Vale was an adult."

"Yes."

"And Sophie was registered as Emily Mercer."

"Yes."

I stared at the wall.

"Then which Emily is the beneficiary?"

Harris hesitated.

"That's the problem."

My pulse quickened.

"What?"

"The agreement contains a birth date."

I froze.

"Whose?"

Harris took a breath.

"Six years ago."

I closed my eyes.

Sophie.

The child whose identity had been changed.

The child who had been hidden at Ashcroft House.

The child someone wanted to control.

"Then Emily Mercer is Sophie."

"Possibly."

I stared at the wall.

"Detective, what does the agreement give her?"

Harris paused.

"Control of certain trust assets when she reaches a specified age."

My pulse accelerated.

"What age?"

"Seven."

I stopped breathing.

Lily's seventh birthday was six weeks away.

Sophie was born on the same day.

Someone had been waiting for that date.

"Detective," I whispered, "what happens when she turns seven?"

Harris took a breath.

"According to the agreement, a guardian can exercise certain rights on her behalf."

My stomach tightened.

"Marcus."

"He's named in one version."

I closed my eyes.

"And the other?"

Harris hesitated.

"Claire."

I stared at my wife.

She was sitting beside the window, watching me.

Then Harris said something that made my blood run cold.

"Daniel, there's one more document."

My pulse quickened.

"What?"

"A court petition."

I frowned.

"For what?"

"To establish that Lily Mercer and