CHAPTER 4 — Claire’s Missing Eight Months
CHAPTER 4 — Claire’s Missing Eight Months
By the time I returned to the hospital, the sun was rising.
I had spent the entire night running from the people who had tried to silence Margaret.
I had heard my father's voice confess that he had been poisoned.
I had learned that Maria Hawthorne was alive.
I had learned that the mysterious child my family had erased was a girl.
And I had learned something that terrified me more than all of it.
My mother had known.
For years.
But there was one question I couldn't escape.
Why Claire?
Why had they waited until she was eight months pregnant?
Why drug her?
Why put her inside a coffin?
Why risk everything just to silence her?
The answer was waiting beside a hospital bed.
My wife.
Claire was awake.
And this time, when I entered the room, she didn't smile.
She looked at me with the expression of someone who had been carrying a terrible secret for too long.
"Where were you?"
"Finding answers."
Her eyes moved to the metal box in my hand.
"Did you find her?"
I stopped.
"Margaret told me."
Claire closed her eyes.
"Then it's begun."
"What began?"
"The part your father was trying to prevent."
I sat beside her.
"Claire, I need you to tell me everything."
She looked toward the door.
"Lock it."
I did.
Then I returned to her.
"Now."
Claire took a slow breath.
"My pregnancy wasn't normal from the beginning."
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I was being watched."
"By whom?"
"Your family."
I felt something inside me tighten.
"How do you know?"
"Because it started before I was pregnant."
Claire reached for a glass of water.
"I first noticed it after our engagement."
"What?"
"Small things."
She looked at me.
"A woman would appear at the coffee shop where I worked."
"Your office?"
"Sometimes."
"Did she ever speak to you?"
"Never."
Claire took another breath.
"Then there was the car."
"What car?"
"Black Mercedes."
She described the license plate.
I recognized it.
It belonged to one of my father's old security companies.
I stared at her.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought you knew."
"I didn't."
"That's what scared me."
Claire looked down.
"When I told you I was pregnant, things became worse."
"How?"
"My appointments were already arranged."
"What?"
"Your mother insisted I use a particular doctor."
I remembered.
My mother had called it a recommendation.
A family doctor.
Someone trustworthy.
Someone who had treated women in the family for decades.
Claire had accepted because she didn't want to cause an argument.
"But the doctor wasn't yours," I said.
"No."
"Who was he?"
"Dr. Adrian Blake."
I recognized the name.
He had signed one of Claire's prenatal reports.
"What did he do?"
"At first, nothing."
"Then?"
"He started asking strange questions."
"About the baby?"
"About you."
I frowned.
"Me?"
"He wanted to know whether you had any inherited diseases."
"That's normal."
"Not the way he asked."
She looked directly at me.
"He wanted to know your blood type."
I went still.
"Why?"
"I didn't know."
"What did you tell him?"
"My medical records."
"Mine?"
"Yes."
"Claire..."
"I know."
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"I thought he was preparing for the delivery."
"What happened after that?"
"He asked about your father."
I felt cold.
"Why?"
"He asked whether you had ever questioned the circumstances of his death."
I stared at her.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing."
"Good."
"But that wasn't the end."
Claire reached for the hospital blanket.
"The first time I realized something was seriously wrong was during my fourth month."
"What happened?"
"I was driving home."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"A car followed me."
"How long?"
"Twenty minutes."
"Did you call the police?"
"I tried."
She hesitated.
"The phone died."
I looked at her.
"Claire."
"I know."
She swallowed.
"When I got home, the car was gone."
"What happened next?"
"The next morning, your mother called."
"What did she say?"
"She asked whether I had been followed."
I stared at her.
"She knew?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"I asked her."
"What did she say?"
Claire gave a bitter smile.
"She said, 'I worry about you. That's all.'"
My hands curled into fists.
"Did she threaten you?"
"Not directly."
"What does that mean?"
"She told me something I didn't understand."
"What?"
"She said, 'Some families protect their blood at any cost.'"
I looked toward the window.
"What did you think she meant?"
"I thought she meant the baby."
Claire's voice became quieter.
"Now I think she meant me."
At five months, things became worse.
Claire started receiving anonymous messages.
No name.
No number.
Just photographs.
Her leaving work.
Her entering a grocery store.
Her standing outside the hospital.
Her sleeping in our bedroom.
I stared at her.
"Someone photographed you sleeping?"
She nodded.
"How?"
"I don't know."
"What did the message say?"
Claire pulled out her phone.
The old messages were still there.
The first one:
STOP ASKING QUESTIONS.
The second:
YOUR HUSBAND DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HIS FAMILY DID.
The third:
THE BABY BELONGS TO THE TRUST.
I felt my blood freeze.
"The trust."
Claire nodded.
"That's when I started investigating."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because every time I tried, something happened."
"What?"
"Your mother would call."
"Just like that?"
"Exactly."
Claire scrolled through the messages.
"Once she called me three minutes after I opened an old file from your father's company."
I stared at the screen.
"She was monitoring you."
"Yes."
"How?"
"I don't know."
"Did she have access to your phone?"
"No."
"Your computer?"
"No."
Claire hesitated.
"Maybe."
"What?"
"When I was six months pregnant, your mother gave me a new laptop."
I stared at her.
"She said it was a gift."
"I barely used it."
"Why?"
"Because I noticed something."
"What?"
"Every time I opened certain files, the screen froze."
I felt a chill.
"Spyware."
"That's what I thought."
"So you stopped using it."
"I bought another computer."
"Did they know?"
"I don't think so."
Claire reached for my hand.
"That's when I found the first document."
"What document?"
"Your father's trust."
She told me everything.
She had searched old corporate records.
Property transfers.
Medical records.
Bank statements.
Charitable donations.
And eventually, she found the Hawthorne name.
The same name I had found in my father's safe.
"The trust wasn't created for Nathan," she said.
"I know."
"It was created for a child."
"The girl."
Claire nodded.
"But that's not all."
"What?"
"The trust had one condition."
I leaned closer.
"What condition?"
"The child had to remain hidden until she turned twenty-five."
I stared.
"Why twenty-five?"
"I don't know."
"And what happens then?"
"The trust becomes permanent."
"Permanent?"
"Impossible to challenge."
I suddenly understood.
"That's why they wanted the child erased."
Claire nodded.
"Exactly."
"But why target our baby?"
Claire's expression changed.
"Because your baby triggered the second clause."
"What second clause?"
She took a breath.
"The trust had been dormant for years."
"Until?"
"Until you married me."
My stomach dropped.
"Why?"
"Because the trust required a bloodline connection."
I couldn't speak.
Claire continued.
"Your father created the trust to protect the child."
"Which child?"
"The missing girl."
"And how does our baby activate it?"
Claire looked directly into my eyes.
"Because the trust recognizes your bloodline."
I shook my head.
"That doesn't make sense."
"It does if the girl is related to you."
I stared at her.
"What are you saying?"
Claire's voice trembled.
"The missing girl is your sister."
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
My sister.
The word didn't fit inside my mind.
I had grown up with one sibling.
Nathan.
If there was another child, I had never known.
Claire saw the confusion on my face.
"Your father had another child."
"With whom?"
"I don't know."
"Maria?"
"No."
"Then who?"
"That's what I was trying to find."
I stood and walked toward the window.
My entire childhood was rearranging itself.
Family photographs.
Christmas dinners.
Birthday parties.
My mother's stories.
Nathan.
My father.
There had always been something missing.
Something I had never noticed because I had never thought to look.
"Why would my mother hide my sister?"
"Because she wasn't supposed to exist."
"What does that mean?"
"Your father had promised someone that the child would never be discovered."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Then why was the trust created?"
"To protect her."
"From whom?"
Claire looked down.
"Everyone."
The door suddenly opened.
A nurse walked in.
She stopped when she saw us.
"Mr. Marshall?"
"Yes?"
"There's a man downstairs asking for your wife."
"Who?"
"He says he's your mother's attorney."
I stood.
"What name?"
"Jonathan Pierce."
I knew the name.
My mother's personal attorney.
The man who had handled our family's estates for decades.
"Did you let him up?"
"No."
"Good."
The nurse left.
Claire grabbed my wrist.
"Don't go."
"I need to know why he's here."
"He knows."
"Knows what?"
"Everything."
I looked at her.
"How do you know?"
"Because he's the one who drafted the trust."
My stomach dropped.
The attorney had created the trust.
My mother had access to Claire.
Nathan was missing.
And someone had already entered Claire's hospital room.
I stepped toward the door.
Then stopped.
"Claire."
"Yes?"
"What happened during the eighth month?"
She went silent.
I waited.
Finally, she whispered:
"Your mother came to our house."
"When?"
"The night before you came home."
"What did she want?"
"She asked me to leave."
"Leave where?"
"Anywhere."
"Why?"
"She said she could protect me."
"From what?"
Claire's eyes filled with tears.
"From you."
I froze.
"What?"
"She told me that if I stayed with you, they would kill both of us."
"Who?"
"She wouldn't say."
"What happened?"
"I refused."
"And then?"
"She showed me something."
"What?"
"A photograph."
"Of what?"
Claire looked at me.
"Your sister."
My heart stopped.
"What did she look like?"
Claire whispered:
"She looked exactly like you."
The door burst open.
Two police officers rushed inside.
"Mr. Marshall, step away from the door."
I turned.
"What happened?"
"There's been an incident downstairs."
"What incident?"
"Your mother's attorney was found unconscious."
My blood went cold.
"Where?"
"In the parking garage."
"Is he alive?"
"Yes."
"Who attacked him?"
"We don't know."
One officer looked at Claire.
"Mrs. Marshall, we need to move you."
"Why?"
"Because someone has entered the hospital using false credentials."
I looked at Claire.
Then at the baby monitor.
The heartbeat was steady.
For now.
I grabbed my wife's hand.
"We're leaving."
"Where?"
"Somewhere they can't find us."
The officer shook his head.
"Mr. Marshall, you don't understand."
He looked toward the hallway.
"We already found someone inside."
"Who?"
The officer hesitated.
Then said:
"Your mother."
My entire body went rigid.
"Evelyn is here?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
The officer pointed toward the security room.
"She was caught watching your wife's medical records."
I looked at Claire.
Her face had gone white.
Then the officer added:
"She wasn't alone."
My heart sank.
"Who was with her?"
The officer lowered his voice.
"Your brother."
Nathan.
He had not fled the hospital.
He had been here the entire time.
Watching Claire.
Watching our baby.
Waiting.
And suddenly, Claire whispered something that made everything worse.
"He wasn't watching me."
I looked at her.
"Then who?"
She placed a trembling hand over her stomach.
"He was waiting for the baby."
The monitor behind us suddenly began screaming.
The baby's heartbeat dropped.
Doctors rushed into the room.
And as they pushed me aside, I saw Nathan through the glass at the end of the corridor.
He was standing beside my mother.
He looked directly at me.
Then smiled.
Not like a brother.
Like someone who had finally realized his plan was working.
I ran toward him.
But by the time I reached the corridor—
he was gone.
Only my mother's voice remained in my mind.
Some families protect their blood at any cost.
Now I finally understood.
The eight months of Claire's pregnancy hadn't been a period of surveillance.
It had been a countdown.
And somewhere inside my family's hidden records was the reason they needed our child alive—
May you like
but Claire dead.
To be continued.
