Chapter 11 — The Secret About the Twins
Chapter 11 — The Secret About the Twins
For several seconds, I couldn't understand what Vanessa had said.
The church seemed to shrink around me.
My grandfather stood motionless near the altar.
Grant looked as though someone had struck him.
Rachel had lowered her head.
And Vanessa...
Vanessa was crying.
Not the polished tears she had used in my hospital room.
Not the carefully measured expression she had worn whenever she wanted Grant to feel sorry for her.
These tears looked different.
They looked real.
"Say it again," I whispered.
Vanessa swallowed.
"Your mother's sister is alive."
I stared at her.
"That's impossible."
"I know."
"Her sister died."
"That's what everyone was told."
"Who told us?"
Vanessa looked at my grandfather.
"He did."
My chest tightened.
I turned toward him.
"Is that true?"
My grandfather didn't answer.
"Grandfather."
His eyes closed.
"Yes."
The word was barely audible.
I felt as though the floor had disappeared beneath me.
"You knew."
"I knew there was a possibility."
"You knew she was alive."
"I knew she might have survived."
"And you never told me."
"I was protecting you."
I laughed bitterly.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
I pointed toward Vanessa.
"She says you knew."
I pointed toward Rachel.
"She says you knew."
I looked at Grant.
"He knew."
Then I looked at myself.
"And apparently I knew nothing."
My grandfather's face crumpled.
"I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"Of the woman she became."
Silence.
I stared at him.
"What woman?"
He looked toward Vanessa.
Vanessa whispered:
"Your aunt."
Rachel slowly stood.
"There is something you need to understand."
I turned toward her.
"Then explain everything."
She nodded.
"The night Subject Seventeen and Subject Eighteen were born, the hospital was already under surveillance."
"By Julian Cross?"
"By several people."
"Who?"
"Your grandmother. Julian Cross. And the man who funded Project One."
I frowned.
"Who?"
Rachel looked at my grandfather.
He finally answered.
"My brother."
I froze.
"You had a brother?"
"Yes."
"Why have I never heard of him?"
"Because he died."
Rachel shook her head.
"No."
My grandfather looked at her.
"Rachel."
"He didn't die."
My grandfather's jaw tightened.
"He's dead."
"He disappeared."
"Twenty-nine years ago."
"And nobody ever found his body."
I stared at my grandfather.
"What was his name?"
He hesitated.
"Daniel."
Rachel corrected him.
"Daniel Whitmore."
The same family name.
My family.
Another secret.
Another ghost.
"Why does he matter?"
Rachel looked at the photograph.
"Because Daniel believed Project One should never have existed."
"And my grandmother?"
"She believed the opposite."
"What about Julian?"
"Julian believed it could make him powerful."
I understood.
Three people.
Three motives.
One project.
And two babies.
I took the photograph from Rachel.
The two newborns looked almost identical.
Except for the bracelets.
Yellow.
White.
"Why were there two babies?"
Rachel looked at me.
"Because the original embryo split."
My breath caught.
"They were twins?"
"Not ordinary twins."
"What does that mean?"
"Identical twins."
I stared at the photograph.
"Noah and Elise..."
Rachel nodded.
"Your children are also identical in the way Project One's scientists feared."
"But Noah and Elise are a boy and a girl."
"Yes."
"Then they aren't identical."
"Not genetically identical."
She paused.
"But they carry the same marker."
I felt cold.
"Both of them?"
"Yes."
"How?"
Rachel looked at my grandfather.
"Because the marker was designed to pass."
"Pass through what?"
"Maternal blood."
I touched my stomach.
"The pregnancy?"
"Yes."
"Then why didn't anyone know?"
Rachel smiled sadly.
"Because the doctors were looking for the wrong thing."
Dr. Moore's words came back to me.
There was a genetic test ordered.
Both twins carried the marker.
But now another possibility appeared.
"What if the test wasn't genetic?"
Rachel nodded.
"It wasn't."
"Then what was it?"
"A biological signature."
My grandfather stepped forward.
"Rachel."
"What?"
"Enough."
She turned toward him.
"No."
Her voice hardened.
"You've protected this family for almost thirty years."
"And what did it accomplish?"
He said nothing.
"You lost your daughter."
My grandfather's face tightened.
"You lost your brother."
His hands began to shake.
"And now your granddaughter's children are being hunted."
Rachel looked at me.
"Your grandfather thought silence would save you."
She pointed toward the photograph.
"It didn't."
I turned toward Vanessa.
"You said my aunt is alive."
"Yes."
"Who is she?"
Vanessa looked at Grant.
He looked away.
"Tell me."
Vanessa took a breath.
"Her name is Eleanor."
I frowned.
"Eleanor what?"
"Whitmore."
My heart stopped.
"Where is she?"
Vanessa hesitated.
"She's closer than you think."
"Where?"
"I can't tell you."
"Why?"
"Because she'll kill Elise."
My body went rigid.
"What?"
Vanessa stepped backward.
"She knows where your daughter is."
"Then take me to her."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because she doesn't want you to find her."
"Why?"
Vanessa looked at me.
"Because she believes you're the reason she lost everything."
The room fell silent.
I couldn't understand.
"I was a baby."
"I know."
"How could I have caused anything?"
"You didn't."
"Then why does she hate me?"
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
"Because your grandmother chose you."
My grandfather whispered:
"No."
Vanessa continued.
"She was supposed to be the heir."
I looked at my grandfather.
He didn't deny it.
"Your grandmother believed Subject Eighteen was more valuable."
"Then why was she taken?"
"Because she wasn't stable."
"What does that mean?"
"Her marker was unstable."
Rachel stepped in.
"Your aunt's body rejected the treatment."
I stared.
"And mine didn't?"
"Your mother survived."
"But my mother was Subject Seventeen."
"Yes."
"So why did my grandmother choose me?"
Rachel's expression became painful.
"Because your grandmother didn't know which child would carry the stable version."
She looked at the photograph.
"She chose both."
I swallowed.
"Both?"
"Your mother was raised as a shield."
"And my aunt?"
"A weapon."
The word hung in the church.
A weapon.
I looked at Vanessa.
"Why would my grandmother create a weapon?"
"Because she believed someone would eventually come for Project One."
"Julian?"
"Julian was only one of them."
"Who else?"
Vanessa shook her head.
"Your aunt knows."
"Then why did she take Elise?"
"She didn't."
I froze.
"What?"
Vanessa shook her head.
"Eleanor didn't take Elise."
"Then who did?"
"Julian."
"Where is my daughter?"
"I don't know."
"But you said—"
"I said Eleanor knows where she is."
"Then how?"
"Because Julian is working for her."
My grandfather's face changed.
"Impossible."
Vanessa looked at him.
"You've been wrong before."
Grant suddenly spoke.
"Vanessa."
She turned.
"You knew all of this?"
"Not everything."
"How much?"
"Enough."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you were already compromised."
Grant stared.
"By Cross?"
Vanessa nodded.
"You were never supposed to marry Emma."
I looked at him.
He lowered his head.
"I know."
"You were supposed to marry me."
Vanessa nodded.
I felt nothing.
Not jealousy.
Not anger.
Just exhaustion.
"Why?"
"Because my family had access to the Cross organization."
"What family?"
Vanessa hesitated.
"My father."
"Who is he?"
She looked toward my grandfather.
"Thomas Rossi."
My grandfather's face went pale.
"Thomas..."
"You know him."
"I thought he died."
"He didn't."
Another secret.
Another dead man who wasn't dead.
I almost laughed.
"Does anyone in this family actually die?"
Nobody answered.
Vanessa stepped closer.
"My father was Julian Cross's partner."
"Partner in what?"
"Project One."
My grandfather's face hardened.
"He betrayed us."
Vanessa shook her head.
"No. You betrayed him."
The words struck the room.
My grandfather looked stunned.
"You stole the research."
"We stopped the project."
"You destroyed the laboratory."
"To save the children."
"You took Subject Seventeen."
"Because she was dying."
"And left Subject Eighteen behind."
My grandfather said nothing.
Vanessa's voice broke.
"That is why Eleanor hates you."
I looked at my grandfather.
"Did you leave her?"
He finally spoke.
"We couldn't save both."
The words were devastating.
"What?"
"The laboratory was burning."
"Then why did you save my mother?"
"Because your grandmother ordered me to."
"And Eleanor?"
"I was told she was dead."
Rachel shook her head.
"She wasn't."
My grandfather looked at her.
"I know that now."
I stared at the photograph.
Two babies.
Two futures.
One chosen.
One abandoned.
And somehow, twenty-nine years later, that decision had reached my children.
"Why Elise?"
Rachel answered.
"Because she inherited the strongest expression."
I felt sick.
"Meaning?"
"Your daughter may carry the complete marker."
"And Noah?"
"He carries it too."
"Then why is Elise more important?"
"Because she inherited something Noah didn't."
"What?"
Rachel hesitated.
"Your aunt's mutation."
I couldn't breathe.
"So Elise is like her?"
"Yes."
"Then why is Noah safe?"
Rachel looked at me.
"He isn't."
A cold silence followed.
"Both children are targets."
"Then why did Julian take Elise?"
"Because he needs her first."
"For what?"
Rachel's face went pale.
"To find Eleanor."
The door behind us suddenly opened.
A security guard rushed inside.
"Emma!"
"What?"
"We found the vehicle."
"Elise?"
"No."
He handed my grandfather a tablet.
"There's footage."
My grandfather opened it.
A black SUV was parked outside the hospital.
The timestamp was only twenty minutes old.
A woman stepped from the vehicle.
She wore a dark coat.
Her face was hidden.
But when she turned...
I saw her profile.
I knew that face.
I had seen it before.
In photographs.
In old family portraits.
In the reflection of a framed picture hanging in my childhood home.
I whispered:
"Eleanor."
My grandfather stared at the screen.
"How?"
The footage continued.
Eleanor entered the hospital.
Then another figure appeared.
Julian Cross.
Then another.
Vanessa.
Then Grant.
I turned toward Grant.
"You were there."
He looked horrified.
"I didn't know."
"You were working with them."
"Not tonight."
"Then when?"
Grant looked at the footage.
"I've never seen this."
I zoomed in.
There was one more person.
A nurse.
She was carrying a small bag.
Rachel suddenly gasped.
"That's Dr. Evelyn Hart."
I froze.
"Evelyn?"
Rachel nodded.
"She was the one who took the first baby."
My grandfather whispered:
"Elise."
I grabbed the tablet.
"Where are they going?"
The security guard enlarged the location.
A private airfield.
My heart pounded.
"How far?"
"Twenty minutes."
"Get the car."
My grandfather grabbed my arm.
"No."
"I have to go."
"You don't know what you're walking into."
"My daughter is there."
"I'll send security."
"I'll go with them."
"No."
I looked at him.
"You don't get to tell me what risks to take anymore."
He stepped back.
For the first time, he didn't argue.
Grant moved toward me.
"I'm coming."
I turned.
"No."
"I know Cross."
"And you betrayed me."
"I know."
"You don't get to come."
He nodded.
"Then I'll follow."
I stared at him.
"Why?"
"Because if Cross has Elise, he won't stop with her."
"What do you mean?"
Grant looked at Noah's photograph on the screen.
"He'll come back for your son."
We reached the airfield.
The hangar doors were open.
Inside stood a private jet.
Its engines were running.
Security moved forward.
No one was there.
Then I saw the floor.
A tiny white blanket.
Beside it...
a yellow sock.
I picked it up.
My hands trembled.
"Elise."
A speaker crackled overhead.
A woman's voice filled the hangar.
"You're getting closer, Emma."
I looked around.
"Eleanor."
A laugh echoed.
"You finally know my name."
"Where is my daughter?"
"Safe."
"Give her back."
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because you need to understand what you inherited."
I looked toward the ceiling.
"What?"
"Not money."
Silence.
"Not the company."
Another pause.
"Not even Project One."
My heart pounded.
"Then what?"
Her voice became softer.
"You inherited me."
I froze.
"What does that mean?"
"You were never my enemy."
"Then why are you doing this?"
"Because I need to know whether you are like our grandmother."
I swallowed.
"Like her how?"
"Will you sacrifice your child to protect the family?"
"No."
"Will you sacrifice your grandfather?"
I looked at him.
"No."
"Will you sacrifice yourself?"
I answered immediately.
"Yes."
Silence.
Then Eleanor spoke again.
"Good."
The hangar doors suddenly began closing.
My grandfather shouted:
"Emma!"
I ran forward.
A final message appeared on the large screen.
BRING NOAH TO THE OLD MATERNITY WARD.
Beneath it:
COME ALONE.
Then another image appeared.
Elise.
Alive.
Sleeping peacefully.
I stared at her tiny face.
The screen went black.
We returned to Beacon Crest before dawn.
Nobody spoke.
I carried Noah's photograph in my hand.
My son was still inside the NICU.
My daughter was somewhere beyond my reach.
And my aunt had given me an impossible choice.
Bring Noah.
Go alone.
Trust no one.
But there was something Eleanor didn't know.
I had learned from my grandfather.
I had learned from Grant.
I had learned from Vanessa.
I had learned from every betrayal.
People who believed they controlled the board always made the same mistake.
They assumed everyone else was playing the same game.
I wasn't.
I wasn't going to bring Noah.
I wasn't going to go alone.
And I wasn't going to let Eleanor decide which child survived.
I walked into the NICU.
Noah slept beneath the soft blue light.
I placed my hand against the glass.
"My little boy."
His fingers moved.
I smiled through tears.
"You don't have to be a weapon."
I looked toward the door.
"You don't have to be an heir."
"You don't have to carry anyone's legacy."
"You only have to be my son."
Behind me, my grandfather spoke quietly.
"Emma."
I turned.
He was holding an old envelope.
"I found this in the original archive."
"What is it?"
"Your mother's final letter."
I took it.
The envelope had my name on it.
My mother's handwriting.
I opened it with trembling fingers.
Only one sentence had been written inside.
Emma, if they ever come for your children, do not trust the woman who tells you she is saving them.
I stared at the words.
Then another line appeared beneath the first.
Written in a different handwriting.
Because she will be telling the truth.
I looked at my grandfather.
"Who wrote that?"
He didn't answer.
I turned the paper over.
There was a final name.
Eleanor Whitmore.
My aunt had known my mother.
My mother had known Eleanor.
And both women had apparently expected this moment twenty-nine years ago.
The secret about the twins wasn't simply that they carried Project One's marker.
It was that their birth had completed something that began before I was born.
Something that had failed once.
Something Eleanor believed could finally succeed through Noah and Elise.
And as the first light of morning entered the NICU, the hospital doors opened.
A man in a gray suit walked inside.
He handed my grandfather a sealed legal document.
"Mr. Whitmore."
My grandfather opened it.
His expression changed.
"What is it?"
He looked at me.
"It's an emergency guardianship order."
"For whom?"
He couldn't speak.
I took the document.
At the top was the name:
NOAH WHITMORE.
Below it was the name of the petitioner.
I read it twice.
Then my blood ran cold.
ELEANOR WHITMORE.
My aunt wasn't simply trying to take Elise.
May you like
She was coming for both of my children.
And the legal battle had already begun.
