Chapter 4 — The Twins Behind the Glass
Chapter 4 — The Twins Behind the Glass
The image on the security monitor lasted only six seconds.
Six seconds.
That was all it took to turn my blood cold.
Grant stood at the far end of the corridor.
A newborn was wrapped tightly against his chest.
He was walking toward the restricted maternity wing.
Toward the room Vanessa had just described.
The room where, according to her, another baby had once been kept.
I stared at the screen.
"That's Grant."
My grandfather was already moving.
"Security."
Two officers rushed toward the corridor.
"Stop him."
The screen flickered.
Grant disappeared around the corner.
Then the camera went black.
I turned toward Dr. Moore.
"Where are my children?"
"Still in the NICU."
"Are they safe?"
She hesitated.
That hesitation terrified me more than anything else.
"Dr. Moore."
"They're physically secure."
"Physically?"
"The NICU doors are locked."
"But?"
She looked toward the monitor.
"Someone has been attempting to access their records."
My grandfather's face hardened.
"Take Emma to the twins."
I didn't wait.
I ran.
The moment the NICU doors opened, the sound hit me.
Monitors.
Ventilators.
Footsteps.
Whispers.
Every machine seemed louder than before.
Noah's incubator stood on the left.
Elise's on the right.
Both were still there.
Both were breathing.
I pressed my hand against the glass.
"My babies."
The nurse approached.
"They've been stable for the last ten minutes."
I closed my eyes.
Ten minutes.
It sounded like a lifetime.
"Can I go inside?"
"Not yet."
"I need to see them."
"You can see them from here."
I looked through the glass.
Noah's tiny chest rose.
Elise's fingers moved.
Everything looked normal.
But after what I'd learned, normal no longer meant safe.
I turned toward Dr. Moore.
"Check their identification."
She nodded.
A nurse brought up their records.
Noah Whitmore.
Elise Whitmore.
Birth time.
Weight.
Blood type.
Genetic profile.
Everything matched.
I exhaled.
Then the nurse frowned.
"What's wrong?"
She zoomed in on the genetic report.
"There's a discrepancy."
My heart stopped.
"What kind?"
She pointed at Noah's profile.
"The original sample."
"What about it?"
"It was collected at birth."
"Yes."
"But the confirmation sample collected six hours later doesn't completely match."
I stared at her.
"Does that mean he's not my son?"
"No."
She shook her head quickly.
"Not necessarily."
"Then what does it mean?"
"It means someone may have mislabeled or contaminated a sample."
My grandfather entered the room.
"Who handled the samples?"
The nurse checked.
"Three people."
"Names."
She gave them.
One was the neonatal technician.
One was Dr. Vale.
The third was...
"Grant Carter."
I stared.
"My husband?"
"He signed the initial specimen transfer."
My grandfather's expression darkened.
"Of course he did."
Suddenly, a scream came from the hallway.
We turned.
Vanessa.
She was standing near the security station.
A nurse had found her trying to leave.
She was crying.
"Let me go!"
Security blocked the exit.
My grandfather walked toward her.
"Where were you going?"
"I need to leave."
"Why?"
"I can't stay here."
"You know something."
She shook her head.
"No."
"You're lying."
She looked at me.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize."
I stepped toward her.
"Tell me the truth."
Vanessa covered her face.
"I didn't know it would go this far."
"What did you think would happen?"
"Grant said nobody would get hurt."
I stared at her.
"Nobody?"
She nodded desperately.
"He said the baby would be safe."
"Which baby?"
She began crying harder.
"I don't know."
"You're going to tell me."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because they'll kill me."
The corridor went silent.
My grandfather's expression changed.
"Who?"
Vanessa looked toward the security cameras.
Then whispered:
"The people who made Grant do it."
We took her into a private conference room.
No hospital staff were allowed inside except Dr. Moore.
My grandfather sat across from Vanessa.
I stood beside the door.
"Start from the beginning."
Vanessa wiped her face.
"Grant met them almost two years ago."
"Who?"
"I never knew their names."
"Where?"
"At a private investment conference."
"What did they want?"
"Access."
"To what?"
"The hospital."
My grandfather's expression hardened.
"Why?"
"They wanted medical data."
Dr. Moore frowned.
"What kind of data?"
"Genetic data."
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
Vanessa looked at me.
"They were looking for children."
"What children?"
"Children carrying a specific genetic marker."
My grandfather became very still.
"What marker?"
Vanessa shook her head.
"I don't know."
"You've been lying for months," I said. "You know more than you think."
She looked down.
"Grant said your family had something they wanted."
"What?"
"A genetic archive."
My grandfather's face became pale.
"Impossible."
Vanessa looked at him.
"They called it the Whitmore Index."
The room went silent.
I turned toward my grandfather.
"What is the Whitmore Index?"
He didn't answer.
"Grandfather."
He finally spoke.
"An old research database."
"How old?"
"Nearly thirty years."
"Why would anyone want it?"
"Because it contains genetic records of hundreds of families."
I felt sick.
"Mine?"
"Yes."
"Mine too?"
"Possibly."
"Then Noah and Elise..."
He looked at me.
"They may have been born into something they never knew existed."
A loud alarm interrupted us.
Dr. Moore's phone rang.
She answered.
"What?"
Her face changed.
"Which incubator?"
She looked at me.
"Noah."
My heart stopped.
"What happened?"
"The ventilator alarm triggered."
I ran.
Noah's oxygen levels were dropping again.
Doctors surrounded his incubator.
I stood behind the glass, helpless.
"What's happening?"
Dr. Moore entered.
"His breathing has become unstable."
"Why?"
"We don't know."
"Fix it."
"We're trying."
I pressed both hands against the glass.
"Noah."
His tiny fingers moved.
"Mommy's here."
His oxygen dropped again.
The monitor alarm became louder.
My grandfather stood behind me.
"Emma."
"Don't."
"I know."
"Don't tell me to stay calm."
He fell silent.
I watched the doctors work.
Then I noticed something.
A nurse had entered Noah's incubator area.
She wasn't one of the nurses assigned to him.
"Who is she?"
Dr. Moore turned.
"What?"
"That nurse."
She looked through the glass.
Her face changed.
"She shouldn't be there."
She immediately entered.
"Stop!"
The nurse froze.
Dr. Moore reached her.
"What are you doing?"
"I was checking the line."
"You aren't assigned to this patient."
"I was asked to."
"By whom?"
The nurse hesitated.
"Dr. Vale."
Dr. Moore's eyes narrowed.
"Dr. Vale hasn't worked here in six years."
The nurse's face went white.
Then she ran.
Security caught her before she reached the elevator.
They searched her.
Inside her pocket was a small vial.
Dr. Moore examined it.
"What's this?"
The hospital pharmacist looked at it.
His face changed.
"This shouldn't be here."
"What is it?"
"A sedative."
My stomach turned.
"Was she trying to hurt Noah?"
Dr. Moore shook her head.
"I don't know."
"But she was near his ventilator."
"Yes."
My grandfather looked at the security chief.
"Find out who sent her."
The nurse refused to speak.
For nearly an hour, she said nothing.
Then my grandfather walked into the room.
He placed one photograph on the table.
A picture of her family.
Her husband.
Her two children.
The nurse stared.
My grandfather said quietly:
"You can protect the person who threatened you."
He paused.
"Or you can protect your children."
Her face crumbled.
"I didn't want to hurt the baby."
"Then tell us what you were ordered to do."
She began crying.
"Take a blood sample."
"Why?"
"Because they wanted his DNA."
My heart sank.
"Who?"
"I never met them."
"Who contacted you?"
"An anonymous number."
"What did they promise?"
"Money."
"How much?"
"Fifty thousand."
"And if you refused?"
She looked terrified.
"They sent me photographs of my children."
My grandfather closed his eyes.
"This is bigger than Grant."
The nurse nodded.
"Yes."
"What did they say about the baby?"
"They said he was the first match."
I stared at her.
"First match for what?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know."
Then she added:
"But they said the girl was not supposed to survive."
My body went cold.
"What?"
The nurse looked at me.
"They said Elise wasn't part of the original plan."
I couldn't hear anything for several seconds.
My daughter.
Not part of the plan.
My grandfather's face became stone.
"Who told you that?"
"The man who contacted me."
"Did he give a name?"
She shook her head.
"Only a code."
"What code?"
She whispered:
"Project Two."
Dr. Moore looked at my grandfather.
He understood something.
"Project Two."
"What?"
My grandfather didn't answer.
I grabbed his arm.
"Tell me."
He looked at me.
"Your grandmother had a research project."
"What project?"
"Project One."
"And Project Two?"
He swallowed.
"We never completed it."
"Why?"
"Because the first child died."
My heart stopped.
"What child?"
He looked toward Noah and Elise.
"The child was born twenty-nine years ago."
I felt dizzy.
"Vanessa said there was another baby."
My grandfather nodded.
"There was."
"Who was it?"
He didn't answer.
"Grandfather."
His eyes filled with something I had never seen before.
Regret.
"It was your mother."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"Your mother was the first child."
I couldn't breathe.
"You told me she died in a car accident."
"She did."
"But you said she was never involved in the research."
"Because I wanted you to believe she wasn't."
"Why?"
"Because the people who wanted the research never stopped looking."
I stepped back.
"So my mother..."
"Was part of Project One."
"And Project Two?"
He looked at Noah.
"Your children."
The words shattered me.
"No."
"Emma—"
"No."
I shook my head.
"My children are not experiments."
"They aren't."
"Then why are they being targeted?"
"Because someone believes their blood contains what your grandmother was searching for."
I looked through the glass.
Noah.
Elise.
Two innocent babies.
Born into a war they had never chosen.
Then my phone rang.
Grant.
I stared at the screen.
My grandfather said nothing.
I answered.
"What do you want?"
His voice was shaking.
"Emma."
"Where are you?"
"I need to see you."
"No."
"Please."
"Why?"
"Because I know where the baby went."
My heart stopped.
"What baby?"
"The one from the recording."
"Where?"
"He's alive."
I couldn't speak.
Grant continued.
"And he's not who you think."
"Tell me."
"I can't."
"Then why call?"
"Because they're coming for Noah."
I froze.
"What?"
"I made a mistake."
"Which mistake?"
"I thought they wanted one baby."
His voice cracked.
"They want both."
I looked through the glass.
Noah.
Elise.
My entire body went cold.
"Who are they?"
Grant whispered:
"The people who owned my company before your grandfather took control."
"That's impossible."
"I know."
"Grant—"
The call ended.
I immediately tried again.
No answer.
My grandfather took the phone from my hand.
"We need to move the twins."
Dr. Moore shook her head.
"They can't be transported safely."
"Then increase security."
"We already have."
My grandfather looked at the incubators.
"No."
He turned toward the security chief.
"I want armed protection on this floor."
I stared at him.
"Grandfather..."
He looked at me.
"This is no longer about your divorce."
"I know."
"It's no longer about Grant."
"I know."
He looked through the glass.
"It's about whether your children survive long enough to discover why everyone is afraid of them."
I turned back toward Noah and Elise.
For the first time, I didn't see two fragile babies behind the glass.
I saw two children standing at the center of a secret that had begun before I was even born.
And somewhere outside the hospital, someone was already making the next move.
Because at exactly 7:31 that morning, every elevator in Beacon Crest stopped.
Every security door locked.
And the hospital's emergency system announced one terrifying sentence:
"Unauthorized access detected in the neonatal archive."
My grandfather looked at me.
Then at the locked doors.
"Emma."
"Yes?"
"Whatever happens next..."
He paused.
"...do not let anyone take your children."
The lights flickered.
A distant alarm began screaming.
May you like
And behind the glass, both of my twins opened their eyes at exactly the same moment.
As if they had heard something none of us could hear.
