CHAPTER 6 — THE TWINS THEY WANTED
CHAPTER 6 — THE TWINS THEY WANTED
The moment Vanessa said those words, every sound around me seemed to disappear.
“I know who your real father is.”
I gripped the phone tighter.
For a second, I couldn't breathe.
The NICU lights glowed softly behind the glass.
Noah's monitor beeped steadily.
Elise slept beside him.
Everything looked normal.
But nothing was normal anymore.
“Say that again.”
Vanessa's voice trembled.
“I know who your real father is.”
“How?”
“I found a recording.”
“Whose recording?”
“Grant's.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does Grant know about my father?”
“More than you think.”
I looked through the glass at my children.
“Where are you?”
She hesitated.
“I don't know if you'll come.”
“Tell me.”
“A hotel on Westbridge Avenue.”
“Which one?”
She gave me the name.
I wrote it down.
“Stay there.”
“Emma—”
“Don't leave.”
“Why?”
“Because if you're lying…”
I stopped.
Vanessa understood.
“You'll never get another chance to tell me.”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
My grandfather was standing behind me.
“You heard.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
I turned.
“What?”
“You don't go anywhere near Vanessa.”
“She says she knows who my father is.”
“She wants something.”
“I know.”
“Then why give her what she wants?”
I looked at my children.
“Because she might be telling the truth.”
He sighed.
“Then we bring her here.”
I shook my head.
“She won't come.”
“Why?”
“Because she's afraid.”
My grandfather's expression hardened.
“Of Adrian?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
I looked at him.
“I think she's afraid of the person who hired Grant.”
The next morning, Dr. Hart gave me permission to leave the NICU for two hours.
Only two.
I wasn't supposed to be walking much after surgery.
My grandfather arranged a private car.
Two security vehicles followed.
Michael came with me.
We drove through the city in silence.
I kept thinking about the recording.
Grant's voice.
I'll marry her.
Then I leave.
After the children.
The words hurt more than I wanted to admit.
But one sentence had changed everything.
And if she refuses?
Then we destroy her reputation.
I looked at Michael.
“Did you hear the recording?”
“Yes.”
“Did Grant know about my father?”
“Apparently.”
“Then why didn't he tell me?”
“Because it was part of the arrangement.”
I looked out the window.
“Who made the arrangement?”
Michael didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
I already knew the name.
Adrian Vale.
But Vanessa had said the second voice wasn't Adrian.
That meant someone else had been giving orders.
Someone closer.
Someone I trusted.
The hotel was nearly empty.
Two security officers checked the hallway before I entered.
Vanessa was sitting beside the window.
She looked completely different.
No designer clothes.
No jewelry.
No makeup.
Her hair was tied back.
She looked exhausted.
She stood when she saw me.
“You came.”
“I told you I would.”
Her eyes moved toward my security team.
“You brought half the hospital.”
“They're not here for you.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
She gave a bitter smile.
“At least you're honest now.”
I sat across from her.
“Show me the recording.”
Vanessa pulled out her phone.
“I'll show you.”
She pressed play.
Grant's voice filled the room.
“I'll marry her.”
My chest tightened.
I listened to every word.
Then the second voice.
“Emma must never discover who her real father is.”
I looked at Vanessa.
“Who is that?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“You said you knew.”
“I know who your father is.”
“Then tell me.”
She looked at me.
“Your father is not the man you grew up calling Dad.”
I didn't move.
“Who is he?”
She swallowed.
“Adrian Vale.”
The room went silent.
I stared at her.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“My grandfather said Adrian wasn't my biological father.”
“Your grandfather lied.”
I stood.
“Why?”
“Because Adrian isn't the only person who knew.”
“Who else?”
“Your mother.”
I froze.
“She knew?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did she hide it?”
“Because Adrian wanted you.”
“What does that mean?”
Vanessa's voice dropped.
“He didn't just want your inheritance.”
She looked toward the door.
“He wanted you.”
I sat down again.
“What does that mean?”
Vanessa looked at the floor.
“Your mother was pregnant with you when Adrian discovered she was leaving him.”
I stared.
“Leaving him?”
“They had been together.”
“Romantically?”
“Yes.”
My heart pounded.
“My mother was married.”
“Not yet.”
I closed my eyes.
The story I'd been told all my life was wrong.
Vanessa continued.
“Your mother loved Adrian.”
“But married my father.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Adrian became dangerous.”
I looked at her.
“How?”
“He became obsessed with the idea that you belonged to him.”
My skin crawled.
“He believed you were his daughter.”
“I was.”
Vanessa nodded.
“But your mother refused to let him take you.”
“So she married my father.”
“Yes.”
“To protect me.”
“Yes.”
I thought about the photograph.
My mother smiling beside Adrian.
The warning on the back.
If he ever finds you, run.
It finally made sense.
She hadn't been warning me about a stranger.
She had been warning me about my biological father.
I looked at Vanessa.
“Why did Adrian send you?”
She hesitated.
“To get close to you.”
“And Grant?”
“To get close to the trust.”
“Why the twins?”
Her face changed.
“That wasn't supposed to happen.”
“What?”
“The twins weren't part of the original plan.”
I stared.
“Then what was?”
“You were supposed to inherit everything.”
“After what?”
“After your grandfather died.”
My blood ran cold.
“And if I had no children?”
“You would remain the sole beneficiary.”
“And if I had children?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“Then the inheritance would pass to them.”
I understood.
“The twins.”
“Yes.”
“They wanted my children.”
She nodded.
“Because the trust protects direct descendants.”
My hands began shaking.
“Who told Grant that?”
“I don't know.”
“Who told Adrian?”
“I don't know.”
“Then what do you know?”
Vanessa pulled out another file.
“This.”
She handed me a photograph.
I looked at it.
Grant.
Adrian.
And a third man.
I recognized him immediately.
My grandfather's attorney.
Michael.
I looked up.
“What is this?”
Vanessa whispered:
“He was there when the plan was created.”
My security team reacted instantly.
One officer stepped forward.
“Mrs. Whitmore?”
I held up my hand.
“Stay.”
I stared at the photograph.
Michael was younger.
But it was him.
Standing beside Grant and Adrian.
My stomach turned.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“I was afraid.”
“You should have been.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
I stood.
“Where did you get this?”
“Adrian gave it to me.”
“Why?”
“To prove that I wasn't the only one involved.”
I looked at the photograph again.
There was a date.
Nine years ago.
Three months before Grant proposed.
The plan had been created before my marriage.
And Michael had been there.
I returned to the hospital immediately.
My grandfather was waiting.
I placed the photograph on the table.
His face went pale.
“Where did you get this?”
“Vanessa.”
He stared at Michael's photograph.
“Is this real?”
“Yes.”
My grandfather closed his eyes.
“Grandfather.”
He didn't answer.
“Did Michael betray us?”
“No.”
“Then why was he there?”
“Because he was investigating.”
“Investigating what?”
“Your father.”
I stared.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“And you let me marry Grant?”
“I didn't know the full plan.”
“But you knew something.”
“Yes.”
I felt betrayed.
“You could have stopped him.”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Before the wedding.”
“What happened?”
My grandfather looked at me.
“Grant disappeared for three days.”
“What?”
“He was supposed to leave the city.”
“Why?”
“Because we discovered his connection to Adrian.”
“Then why did he come back?”
My grandfather's voice became quiet.
“Because someone threatened your mother.”
I froze.
“My mother was already dead.”
He shook his head.
“No.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Your mother was alive when Grant first entered your life.”
I couldn't breathe.
“My mother died when I was five.”
“I know.”
“Then how?”
My grandfather looked at me.
“Because the official date of her death was wrong.”
The room tilted.
I grabbed the table.
“What are you saying?”
“My daughter didn't die when you were five.”
“Then when?”
“Years later.”
“Why did you lie?”
“To protect you.”
“From whom?”
“Your father.”
I felt sick.
“Adrian?”
“Yes.”
“But I remember her funeral.”
“It wasn't her body.”
I stared.
“What?”
My grandfather's eyes filled with pain.
“We buried someone else.”
I couldn't speak.
“My mother is alive?”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
“She was killed.”
“By Adrian?”
“We don't know.”
“Then who?”
My grandfather looked at the photograph.
“That's what we've been trying to discover for twenty-nine years.”
I thought of the warning.
The photograph.
The hospital.
Grant.
Vanessa.
The twins.
Everything was connected.
But then I remembered something.
“What about Noah and Elise?”
My grandfather looked at me.
“What about them?”
“Why did Adrian care about them?”
He hesitated.
“He didn't.”
“Then who did?”
My grandfather's expression changed.
“That's the question.”
That afternoon, the NICU alarms sounded again.
I ran to the glass.
Noah was stable.
Elise was not.
Her oxygen levels had dropped.
Doctors rushed around her incubator.
My heart shattered.
“What's happening?”
Dr. Hart stepped out.
“She developed respiratory distress.”
“Is she going to be okay?”
“We're doing everything we can.”
I pressed my hand against the glass.
“Elise.”
My voice broke.
“Mommy's here.”
Her tiny body barely moved.
I felt helpless.
Then Dr. Hart looked at the monitor.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Her oxygen is improving.”
I stared.
The numbers climbed.
Slowly.
Then steadily.
Dr. Hart smiled.
“She responded.”
I cried.
My grandfather placed his hand on my shoulder.
“She knows you're here.”
That night, I refused to leave.
I sat between the two incubators.
Noah slept.
Elise slept.
I held both tiny hands through the openings.
For the first time, I realized something.
The twins weren't simply heirs.
They were the reason the entire plan had changed.
If I had remained childless, I would have been the target.
Now there were three Whitmore heirs.
Me.
Noah.
Elise.
And that made us more valuable.
More vulnerable.
More dangerous.
I looked at my children.
“No one is taking you.”
I whispered.
“No one.”
At midnight, the hospital received a security alert.
An unauthorized person had entered the private medical wing.
Security cameras captured a man walking through the corridor.
He wore a doctor's coat.
A surgical mask.
A cap.
He moved calmly.
He knew exactly where he was going.
Toward the NICU.
The security system recognized no employee matching his credentials.
Two guards intercepted him.
He ran.
They caught him near the elevator.
He carried a small black case.
Inside were syringes.
Sedatives.
A burner phone.
And a photograph.
The photograph showed Noah and Elise.
Taken from inside the hospital.
I stared at it when security brought it to me.
My hands went cold.
“Who is he?”
The guard shook his head.
“He won't talk.”
My grandfather looked at the photograph.
His expression hardened.
“Take him downstairs.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because someone sent him.”
“And?”
“We need to know who.”
An hour later, the man finally spoke.
Not to the police.
Not to security.
To me.
I entered the interrogation room.
He looked at me.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“Who sent you?”
Silence.
“Who?”
He smiled.
“You think your grandfather can protect you forever?”
I stared at him.
“Who sent you?”
He leaned forward.
“You're asking the wrong question.”
“What question should I ask?”
He smiled again.
“Why do they want the twins alive?”
My blood froze.
“What?”
He whispered:
“Because they're not just heirs.”
I stared.
“What are they?”
He looked toward the door.
Then back at me.
“Ask your grandfather.”
I walked back upstairs.
My grandfather was waiting.
“What did he say?”
I repeated the words.
His expression changed.
“What does he mean?”
My grandfather looked at the incubators.
Then at me.
“There is something you need to know.”
“What?”
“The twins were tested.”
“Tested for what?”
“Genetic markers.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because of the inheritance.”
“What did you find?”
He didn't answer.
“Grandfather.”
He sighed.
“The twins carry a genetic sequence that appears in your mother's family.”
“That sounds normal.”
“It shouldn't exist.”
I froze.
“Why?”
“Because the sequence disappeared from the family line generations ago.”
“What does that mean?”
He looked at me.
“It means someone altered the records.”
I felt cold.
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
Then he added:
“But the sequence is valuable.”
“How valuable?”
“Enough to make your children worth more than the entire hospital network.”
I stared at Noah and Elise.
Suddenly, the twins didn't look fragile.
They looked like the center of a war.
A war that had begun before I was born.
And one that Grant, Vanessa, Adrian, and countless others had been preparing for.
My phone vibrated.
A message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
There was a photograph.
My mother holding me as a newborn.
Behind her stood Adrian.
And behind Adrian—
my grandfather.
The message contained only one sentence:
You were never the only child they wanted.
I stared at the photograph.
Then another message arrived.
Ask your grandfather about the third baby.
My heart stopped.
Third baby?
I looked at my grandfather.
He saw the message.
His face turned completely white.
“Grandfather?”
He didn't answer.
“Was there another child?”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Where?”
He whispered:
“We thought she died.”
“Who?”
My grandfather looked toward the twins.
Then at me.
“Your sister.”
The world stopped.
May you like
And suddenly, the greatest secret wasn't why they wanted Noah and Elise.
It was why someone had spent twenty-nine years convincing my family that another Whitmore child was dead.
