Natalie’s silence answered the question before her mouth did.
Dominic stared at her.
“Is the baby mine?”
Natalie pressed both hands over her stomach.
“Dominic…”
“Yes or no.”
Audrey had never heard him speak that quietly.
She almost preferred his shouting.
Natalie looked toward the federal investigators, then Harrison, then Audrey.
There was nowhere left to hide.
“I thought she was yours.”
Dominic’s face emptied.
“That is not what I asked.”
“I know.”
“Is. The baby. Mine?”
“I don’t know.”
The words seemed to strike him physically.
He stepped backward.
For the first time that day, Audrey saw Dominic Mercer lose control without anger to protect him.
He simply looked hurt.
It should have satisfied her.
Hours earlier, Natalie had stood beside him wearing Audrey’s coat while Dominic demanded a divorce from a woman recovering from emergency surgery.
Audrey should have enjoyed watching their perfect new family fracture.
Instead, she felt nothing resembling pleasure.
Only exhaustion.
And suspicion.
Because the photograph in the hidden nursery had not accused Natalie of infidelity.
It had said something much more specific.
THE THIRD HEIR DOES NOT BELONG TO DOMINIC MERCER.
Not child.
Heir.
Audrey looked at Harrison.
He had noticed too.
“Why would someone call Natalie’s baby an heir?”
Harrison’s expression tightened.
“I don’t know.”
Audrey gave him a long look.
“Your ability to not know things has become remarkable today.”
He almost flinched.
Natalie lowered herself into a chair.
Maria remained near her.
“Who else could be the father?” the federal investigator asked.
Natalie shook her head.
“This isn't relevant.”
“A woman connected to this investigation apparently staged her kidnapping, entered a secret archive beneath this hospital, and left information concerning your unborn child. It is relevant.”
“I want a lawyer.”
“You are entitled to one.”
“Then I’m not answering.”
Dominic laughed bitterly.
“You don’t need a lawyer to tell me who you slept with.”
Natalie looked at him.
“That’s rich.”
His face darkened.
“Who?”
She said nothing.
“Natalie.”
“Don’t.”
“WHO?”
Several NICU staff members looked toward them.
Audrey glanced instinctively at the incubators.
“Lower your voice.”
Dominic ignored her.
Natalie stood.
“I slept with you.”
“And?”
She looked away.
Dominic understood.
“There was someone else.”
“It happened once.”
He stared at her.
Natalie’s eyes filled.
“We weren’t together then.”
“Eleven months.”
“What?”
“You told Audrey we had been together eleven months.”
“We had.”
“So when?”
Natalie closed her eyes.
“About seven months ago.”
Audrey calculated.
Natalie was twenty-six weeks pregnant.
Seven months ago was dangerously close to conception.
Dominic understood too.
“Who?”
Natalie whispered, “I don’t know his real name.”
Dominic laughed.
It was an ugly sound.
“You’re carrying a man’s child and don't know his name?”
“I met him at a medical technology conference.”
“What name did he give you?”
“Daniel.”
“Daniel what?”
“Reeves.”
The federal investigator began typing.
“Location?”
“Baltimore.”
“Conference?”
“North Atlantic Biomedical Systems Forum.”
Dominic stared at her.
“I was at that conference.”
“I know.”
“Were you sleeping with him while I was upstairs?”
Natalie snapped.
“You disappeared for six hours!”
“I was in meetings.”
“You turned off your phone.”
“So you slept with a stranger?”
“You were still married!”
Silence.
Audrey almost admired the absurdity.
Dominic seemed offended that his mistress had cheated on him while he was cheating on his wife.
Harrison apparently thought the same thing.
He rubbed his forehead.
“This would be almost amusing if children weren't in danger.”
Dominic turned away.
Natalie began crying.
Maria touched her shoulder.
“Sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you aren't.”
A contraction crossed Natalie’s face.
This time everyone saw it.
Maria checked her watch.
“How long since the last one?”
Natalie shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“You had one earlier.”
“Stress.”
“Maybe. But at twenty-six weeks, we don’t guess.”
Natalie looked toward the obstetric wing.
“I’m not leaving.”
“You may not have a choice.”
Audrey studied her.
“Did Evelyn know about Daniel?”
Natalie froze.
That was enough.
Dominic turned.
“What?”
Audrey repeated the question.
“Did Evelyn know?”
Natalie sat slowly.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She asked about him after the genetic test.”
“Why?”
“She said the dates didn’t fit.”
Dominic stepped forward.
“What dates?”
Natalie covered her face.
“The DNA report.”
“You said you never received the full report.”
“I didn't.”
“But you saw part of it.”
“Yes.”
Dominic stared at her with naked hatred.
“What did it say?”
“That the fetal DNA markers were inconsistent with the sample Evelyn had for you.”
The corridor went quiet.
Audrey frowned.
“How did Evelyn have Dominic’s DNA?”
Natalie looked at Harrison.
“I assumed from the old archive.”
Harrison shook his head.
“There should be no DNA samples in that archive.”
“Apparently there are.”
“Whose?”
“I don’t know.”
The federal investigator interrupted.
“Where did you send the prenatal sample?”
“A private laboratory Evelyn specified.”
“Name?”
Natalie hesitated.
“Eleanor Biomedical.”
Harrison’s chair scraped violently against the floor as he stood.
“No.”
Audrey turned.
“You know it.”
Harrison looked almost ill.
“It closed decades ago.”
Natalie shook her head.
“I went there.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
“Where?”
“Outside Philadelphia.”
“That laboratory does not exist.”
“I walked through the front door.”
Harrison stared at her.
Audrey felt the mystery expanding again.
“Grandfather, what was Eleanor Biomedical?”
He looked toward the twins.
“Your grandmother’s research laboratory.”
“Eleanor wasn’t my grandmother.”
“Biologically, no.”
“Then stop using family words as shortcuts.”
Harrison accepted the correction.
“She was Evelyn’s mother.”
“What did she research?”
He hesitated.
“Hereditary disease.”
Natalie laughed nervously.
“That’s not what Evelyn told me.”
Everyone looked at her.
“What did she tell you?” Audrey asked.
“Compatibility.”
Harrison closed his eyes.
Audrey’s pulse quickened.
“Compatibility for what?”
Natalie shook her head.
“She never explained.”
The federal investigator’s radio sounded.
He listened.
The team below had entered the hidden nursery.
They had found no Evelyn.
No intruder.
But they had recovered several boxes.
“What boxes?” Audrey asked.
“Medical files.”
“Whose?”
The investigator listened again.
His expression changed.
“Families connected to Vale Health.”
“How many?”
“Hundreds.”
Harrison whispered, “Eleanor.”
Audrey looked at him.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You suspected.”
“That is different.”
“Not today.”
Harrison lowered his voice.
“When Eleanor became ill, she became obsessed with succession.”
“You said that already.”
“No. Evelyn said experiment. I said succession.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Eleanor believed institutions die when families lose control of them.”
Audrey frowned.
“So?”
“She wanted to ensure Vale Health remained in the hands of descendants capable of protecting it.”
Dominic laughed.
“What, she bred executives?”
Harrison looked at him.
“In a way, that is exactly what I feared.”
Nobody spoke.
Audrey felt sick.
“Explain.”
“Eleanor collected medical histories.”
“Without consent?”
“Sometimes.”
“DNA?”
“I never proved it.”
“And she arranged relationships?”
“I knew she introduced people.”
“Like Dominic and me.”
Harrison looked down.
“I did not know about that.”
Audrey was no longer certain whether she believed him.
A federal agent approached from the elevator carrying a sealed plastic evidence box.
“We recovered this from the nursery.”
Inside were folders.
Old ones.
Each labeled with surnames.
The agent placed the box on a counter.
The investigator examined the first few.
CALDWELL.
PIERCE.
MERCER.
Audrey stared.
“Pierce?”
Natalie stood.
“That’s my family name.”
The investigator removed the folder.
Natalie looked terrified.
“Open it.”
“You just requested an attorney.”
“I don’t care. Open it.”
He did.
Inside were medical records dating back decades.
Birth certificates.
Family trees.
Laboratory reports.
Then a photograph.
A little girl standing beside a woman outside a school.
Natalie.
Age perhaps six.
“No,” she whispered.
Another photograph.
Natalie at twelve.
Then seventeen.
Then university.
Exactly like Audrey’s surveillance file.
Someone had been tracking Natalie too.
Dominic stared at her.
“You were part of this before you met me.”
“I didn’t know.”
Audrey believed her.
At least about that.
The investigator removed a family tree.
At the top was Natalie’s maternal grandfather.
A line connected him to Eleanor Biomedical.
Harrison leaned closer.
“I know that name.”
Natalie looked at him.
“Who?”
“Samuel Pierce.”
“My grandfather.”
“He worked for Eleanor.”
“Doing what?”
“Genetics.”
Natalie went pale.
The investigator opened the MERCER folder.
Dominic stepped forward.
“No.”
The investigator ignored him.
Richard Mercer’s photograph appeared first.
Then Dominic’s childhood records.
School.
Vaccinations.
Hospitalizations.
Blood type.
At the bottom was a sealed laboratory report.
Harrison stared at it.
“That seal.”
“What?” Audrey asked.
“It’s Eleanor’s.”
The investigator carefully opened the document.
The paper had yellowed.
A typed heading appeared:
PATERNAL LINEAGE VERIFICATION — RICHARD MERCER.
Dominic moved closer despite himself.
“Read it.”
The investigator scanned the page.
Then frowned.
“What?”
He looked at Harrison.
“Richard Mercer’s documented father was not his biological father.”
Natalie whispered, “I told you.”
“Who was?” Dominic demanded.
The investigator turned the page.
There was no name.
Only a subject code.
E-01.
Harrison grabbed the counter.
Audrey saw it.
“What does E-01 mean?”
He shook his head.
“Grandfather.”
“No.”
“You recognize it.”
Harrison’s face had become gray.
“Eleanor used E-series codes for members of her own family.”
Dominic stopped moving.
Audrey felt cold.
“So Richard’s biological father was related to Eleanor?”
Harrison said nothing.
The investigator looked deeper into the file.
“There’s a handwritten note.”
“Read it.”
He hesitated.
Dominic slammed his palm against the counter.
“Read it!”
The investigator complied.
“Mercer line confirmed compatible. Male descendant should be preserved for future Vale succession.”
Dominic’s face twisted.
“Preserved?”
Audrey felt nauseated.
People had been reduced to breeding lines.
Compatibility.
Succession.
Heirs.
The investigator turned another page.
A newer document had been inserted.
Unlike the others, it was printed recently.
Two months earlier.
Natalie’s prenatal genetic screening.
She stared.
“That’s it.”
The investigator read silently.
Then his expression changed.
“What?”
He looked at Natalie.
“The fetal sample was compared against Dominic Mercer.”
“Yes.”
“Dominic is excluded as the biological father.”
Dominic shut his eyes.
Audrey watched the blow land.
Natalie began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
Dominic did not look at her.
The investigator continued reading.
“There was also a database comparison.”
Natalie wiped her face.
“I never saw that part.”
“Apparently the fetal DNA produced a close familial match.”
Harrison stiffened.
“To whom?”
The investigator looked confused.
“The record uses another code.”
“What code?”
“V-03.”
Harrison stopped breathing.
Audrey saw terror spread across his face.
“What does V-03 mean?”
Harrison shook his head.
“Grandfather.”
He stepped backward.
Audrey followed him with her eyes.
“Who is V-03?”
His voice came out almost soundless.
“Your father.”
Audrey stared at him.
“My father is dead.”
“Yes.”
“Then how could Natalie’s unborn child have a close familial match to him?”
Nobody answered.
Dominic looked at Natalie.
The investigator reread the report.
Then he turned to the next page.
“There’s a handwritten interpretation.”
“What does it say?” Audrey asked.
The investigator hesitated.
Natalie whispered, “Please.”
He read it.
“Paternity candidate is a first-degree male descendant of Subject V-03.”
Audrey’s mind refused the sentence.
First-degree male descendant.
A son.
Her father had a son.
But Audrey had been an only child.
At least, that was what she had always been told.
She turned toward Harrison.
“No.”
He looked devastated.
“Grandfather.”
“Audrey…”
“Do I have a brother?”
Harrison did not answer.
That was answer enough.
Audrey felt the room disappear around her.
Dominic stared at Harrison.
Natalie stopped crying.
Even the investigators remained silent.
Audrey whispered:
“Do I have a brother?”
Harrison closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
The word shattered twenty-three years of family history.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don't know?”
“He disappeared after the crash.”
“How old was he?”
“Eleven.”
Audrey could barely breathe.
“I was seven.”
“Yes.”
“Why don't I remember him?”
Harrison looked at her with unbearable sadness.
“Because after the accident, you remembered almost nothing from the six months before it.”
Audrey shook her head.
“No.”
“The doctors called it trauma.”
“No.”
“You knew him.”
“No.”
“You loved him.”
“Stop.”
“He was your brother.”
“STOP.”
Chloe’s monitor alarm briefly sounded behind the glass.
Audrey spun around.
It normalized almost immediately.
She pressed a hand against her chest.
Harrison approached carefully.
“Audrey.”
“Don't touch me.”
He stopped.
Her entire childhood had become unreliable.
Her aunt.
Her parents’ crash.
The surveillance.
Dominic.
And now a brother erased from her memory.
The investigator looked again at Natalie’s report.
“If the interpretation is accurate, the biological father of Mrs. Pierce’s baby could be Audrey’s brother.”
Natalie stared at him.
“No.”
Audrey looked at her.
“You said the man called himself Daniel Reeves.”
“Yes.”
“Describe him.”
Natalie swallowed.
“Early thirties. Tall. Dark hair. Gray-green eyes.”
Audrey slowly turned toward Evelyn’s photograph.
Gray-green eyes.
Harrison saw the connection.
“What else?”
Natalie’s voice trembled.
“He had a scar.”
“Where?”
“Across his left palm.”
Harrison staggered backward.
Audrey stared at him.
“What?”
He looked as though he had seen a ghost.
“What does the scar mean?”
Harrison whispered:
“Thomas pulled Audrey’s brother through a broken window when he was five. The glass cut his left hand almost in half.”
Natalie covered her mouth.
Audrey felt tears running down her face without remembering when she had started crying.
“What was my brother’s name?”
Harrison looked at her.
“Alexander.”
The elevator chimed.
Everyone turned.
A man stepped out.
Tall.
Early thirties.
Dark hair.
Gray-green eyes.
He wore a physician’s coat over dark clothes.
Natalie screamed.
Dominic moved in front of her.
Harrison whispered, “Impossible.”
The stranger ignored all of them.
He looked only at Audrey.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then he slowly raised his left hand.
A pale scar crossed the palm.
Audrey forgot how to breathe.
The man’s eyes filled with tears.
“Hello, Addie.”
Audrey’s heart stopped.
Nobody had called her that since before her parents died.
The stranger took one step toward her.
“I've been waiting twenty-three years for you to remember me.”