CHAPTER 3 — THE DIVORCE HE THOUGHT I SIGNED
CHAPTER 3 — THE DIVORCE HE THOUGHT I SIGNED
The emergency lights came on three seconds after the announcement.
Red.
Then white.
Then red again.
The corridor looked like a heartbeat.
I couldn't hear anything except the pounding inside my chest.
My grandfather's hand remained around my arm.
“Don't move.”
“My children are in there.”
“I know.”
“Then let me go.”
“Emma—”
“No.”
I pulled away.
“I am their mother.”
He looked at the sealed NICU doors.
Then at the security chief.
“Open them.”
“We're trying.”
“Try faster.”
The security chief spoke into his radio.
“Manual override.”
A technician ran toward the control panel.
Nothing happened.
The doors remained locked.
Inside, nurses moved between the incubators.
Noah's monitor flashed.
Elise's oxygen numbers fluctuated.
I pressed my palms against the glass.
“Please.”
A nurse saw me.
She mouthed:
They're okay.
I nodded.
But my heart refused to believe her.
Then the lights stabilized.
The doors unlocked.
The nurses rushed out.
One of them ran directly toward me.
“Both babies are stable.”
I nearly collapsed.
My grandfather caught me.
“Thank God.”
I closed my eyes.
For the first time in hours, I allowed myself to breathe.
Then someone behind us laughed.
I turned.
Dr. Martin Hale was standing at the end of the corridor.
He looked strangely calm.
Too calm.
“You're still here,” I said.
“Yes.”
“You knew the system would fail.”
“No.”
“You knew someone was inside the hospital.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
He looked at my grandfather.
“I told you.”
My grandfather stepped forward.
“Then start talking.”
Hale swallowed.
“There are records you don't know about.”
“What records?”
“Your family records.”
My grandfather's face hardened.
“That's impossible.”
“No.”
Hale looked at me.
“They've been altered for years.”
“By whom?”
He hesitated.
“Your grandfather.”
Silence.
I looked at my grandfather.
“Is that true?”
He didn't answer immediately.
That was enough.
My heart sank.
“You changed family records?”
“Not what you think.”
“Then explain.”
“Not here.”
“Where?”
He looked toward the elevators.
“The old archive.”
We went downstairs.
The old archive was beneath the hospital's original wing.
I had never seen it before.
The doors were steel.
The walls were concrete.
No windows.
My grandfather entered a code.
The door opened.
Inside were thousands of boxes.
Medical records.
Legal documents.
Birth certificates.
Death certificates.
Photographs.
Everything Beacon Crest had accumulated over decades.
Hale followed us.
I looked at him.
“You said my grandfather altered records.”
“Yes.”
“What did he alter?”
Hale looked at my grandfather.
“Tell her.”
My grandfather sighed.
“I changed your mother's medical history.”
My throat tightened.
“Why?”
“She was being followed.”
“By whom?”
“I didn't know.”
“Then why did you hide it?”
“Because I thought I could protect her.”
I stared at him.
“And did you?”
He looked down.
“No.”
The answer hurt.
“What happened to her?”
“She disappeared.”
“She died.”
“Yes.”
“Because of Beacon Crest?”
“Yes.”
I stepped backward.
“And you never told me.”
“You were five.”
“I was twenty-nine when I married Grant.”
“I was still protecting you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“From what?”
“From the same people who are after your children now.”
Silence.
Hale opened a box.
Inside was a file.
EMMA VANCE — CONFIDENTIAL.
My hands shook.
I opened it.
The first page was a birth certificate.
The second was a medical record.
The third was something I had never seen.
A genetic report.
My name.
My mother's name.
And another name.
ELISE VANCE.
I froze.
“That can't be.”
My daughter had just been born.
But the report was dated twenty-eight years earlier.
“What is this?”
My grandfather closed his eyes.
“That isn't your daughter's file.”
“Then whose is it?”
“Your mother's.”
I stared.
“Her name was Elise?”
“No.”
“Then why does it say Elise?”
He looked at me.
“Because Elise was the name of the child she was carrying before you.”
I couldn't breathe.
“My mother was pregnant before me?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“She lost the baby.”
I looked at the report.
“No.”
“She didn't lose her.”
I looked up.
“What?”
My grandfather's face was filled with regret.
“She was told the baby died.”
I stared at him.
“But she didn't.”
“No.”
“Where is she?”
He didn't answer.
“Grandfather.”
He whispered:
“We don't know.”
My entire body went cold.
Then Hale said:
“That child is the reason your twins are in danger.”
I turned.
“What?”
“The genetic line.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“Your mother's first child carried a rare mutation.”
“And I don't?”
“You do.”
I looked toward the door.
“And my twins?”
“They inherited it.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Why would anyone want it?”
“Because it can be used to develop a treatment for a disease affecting millions.”
I stared at him.
“Then why steal my babies' DNA?”
“Because the people behind this don't want to pay for it.”
My grandfather's voice became cold.
“They want ownership.”
My phone rang.
Grant.
I stared at the screen.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“What?”
His voice was tense.
“Emma.”
“What do you want?”
“Where are you?”
“Why?”
“Because something happened.”
“What?”
“The divorce papers.”
I frowned.
“What about them?”
“They aren't valid.”
I said nothing.
Grant continued.
“You didn't actually sign the final agreement.”
I looked at my grandfather.
He understood immediately.
“What do you mean?”
“The lawyer called me.”
“What lawyer?”
“Mine.”
“What did he say?”
“He said your signature appears on the preliminary pages.”
“Yes.”
“But not the final settlement.”
I froze.
“What?”
Grant swallowed.
“Someone removed the final page.”
My grandfather took the phone from me.
“Grant.”
There was silence.
“Mr. Vance.”
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Stay there.”
“Why?”
“Because someone may be coming for you.”
Grandfather ended the call.
I looked at him.
“Why did you do that?”
“Because Grant knows something.”
“What?”
“I don't know yet.”
We went upstairs.
The legal team was waiting in my room.
A document examiner had been called.
He spread the divorce papers across the table.
“Your signature is genuine.”
I nodded.
“But the document was altered.”
“How?”
“The pages were replaced.”
“Which pages?”
“The property division.”
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the version you signed isn't the version Grant received.”
My grandfather looked at the lawyer.
“Explain.”
The lawyer turned to me.
“Grant received a version giving him nearly everything.”
“And I signed another?”
“No.”
I looked at the pages.
“You signed only the basic agreement.”
“Then how did he get the other version?”
“Someone inserted replacement pages afterward.”
My heart started beating faster.
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
My grandfather's expression hardened.
“Find out.”
The lawyer nodded.
Then he pointed to one line.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“The signature page contains a hidden watermark.”
I frowned.
“What does it say?”
He held it beneath a special light.
Letters appeared.
VANCE FAMILY TRUST — BENEFICIARY TRANSFER
I stared.
“That wasn't there when I signed.”
“No.”
“What does it mean?”
The lawyer looked at my grandfather.
“It means someone tried to use the divorce agreement to transfer your inheritance.”
My grandfather stood.
“Impossible.”
“No.”
The lawyer looked at him.
“Someone tried to transfer Emma's trust rights to Grant.”
I felt sick.
“So the divorce wasn't about leaving me.”
“No.”
“It was about my inheritance.”
“Yes.”
I thought about Grant's face in the NICU.
His confidence.
His certainty.
He had believed he was taking everything.
Because someone had promised him everything.
I whispered:
“Who told him?”
My grandfather didn't answer.
Then the lawyer said:
“There's a name attached to the transfer request.”
I looked at him.
“Who?”
He slid a document toward me.
I read it.
My blood ran cold.
VANESSA COLE.
Vanessa was brought back to the hospital that evening.
She was no longer crying.
She looked angry.
I sat across from her.
My grandfather stood behind me.
“You tried to transfer my trust.”
She stared at me.
“I didn't.”
“The document says otherwise.”
“That's not my signature.”
I pushed it toward her.
“Look.”
She did.
Then her face changed.
“That isn't mine.”
“Then whose is it?”
“I don't know.”
“You were involved.”
“Yes.”
“But not in this?”
“No.”
“Then tell me what you were involved in.”
She looked at the floor.
“I was paid to seduce Grant.”
I already knew.
“I was paid to make him believe you were unstable.”
“Who paid you?”
She hesitated.
“An attorney.”
“Name.”
“Richard Cole.”
I froze.
“Cole?”
“My father.”
My grandfather stepped forward.
“Your father is dead.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
The same year the mysterious woman had supposedly died.
The same year my mother's records had been sealed.
The same year Dr. Victor Lang disappeared.
I looked at Vanessa.
“Your father worked for Beacon Crest.”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“He was legal counsel.”
“For whom?”
“The Vance family.”
My grandfather's face became unreadable.
“That's impossible.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“No.”
She reached into her purse.
Pulled out an old photograph.
Placed it on the table.
My grandfather.
My mother.
Richard Cole.
And another woman.
I stared at her.
I knew her face.
I had seen it in old family photographs.
But she was supposed to be dead.
My grandfather whispered:
“Evelyn.”
I looked at him.
“Who is Evelyn?”
He closed his eyes.
“My sister.”
That night, I couldn't stop looking at the photograph.
My grandfather's sister.
A woman no one had mentioned in my entire life.
A woman who had disappeared seven years ago.
A woman who had supposedly died.
I asked him everything.
He finally told me the truth.
Evelyn had been the most brilliant member of the family.
She had studied genetics.
She had helped establish Beacon Crest's research division.
Then she discovered something.
A treatment.
A genetic therapy based on the mutation carried by my mother's bloodline.
The treatment could save millions.
But it could also generate billions.
Evelyn wanted to release the research freely.
The board wanted to patent it.
She refused.
Then she disappeared.
“Was she killed?”
“We never found her body.”
“Then she's alive.”
“I don't know.”
I looked at the photograph.
The woman beside my mother.
The woman who knew the truth.
The woman who had vanished.
And suddenly I remembered the phone call.
The voice.
The warning.
Don't let them take the twins.
I looked at my grandfather.
“What if Evelyn is the one who called me?”
He didn't answer.
“What if she's alive?”
His face changed.
“Then she may be the only person who knows what happened to your mother.”
At 3:03 a.m., my phone rang again.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A woman's voice whispered:
“Emma.”
I froze.
“Who is this?”
“You found the papers.”
“Who are you?”
“You're closer than you think.”
“Are you Evelyn?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
My heart stopped.
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because they are listening.”
“Who?”
“Your grandfather.”
I looked at him.
He was asleep in the chair beside the window.
“You think my grandfather is involved?”
“I think he knows more than he has told you.”
“Did you access Noah's file?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“You need to understand something.”
“What?”
“Your babies aren't the target.”
I held my breath.
“Then what is?”
“You.”
My blood turned cold.
“Why me?”
“Because your mother left something inside Beacon Crest.”
“What?”
“A biological key.”
I didn't understand.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the treatment cannot be reproduced without your blood.”
I stared at Noah and Elise.
“Then why are they interested in the twins?”
“Because your blood is not enough anymore.”
“What changed?”
Her voice became softer.
“They need the next generation.”
I looked toward the incubators.
“My children.”
“Yes.”
“Evelyn, who is Mr. Gray?”
Silence.
Then she whispered:
“Don't ask that name again.”
“Why?”
“Because Mr. Gray isn't a person.”
I frowned.
“Then what is he?”
“A position.”
My blood ran cold.
“A position?”
“Yes.”
“Held by whom?”
“Whoever controls Beacon Crest.”
The line went silent.
“Evelyn?”
Nothing.
“Evelyn?”
The call had ended.
I lowered the phone.
My grandfather woke.
“What happened?”
I looked at him.
“Your sister called me.”
His face went white.
“What did she say?”
I stared at him.
“She said Mr. Gray isn't a person.”
He didn't move.
“It's a position.”
My grandfather looked toward the door.
Then whispered:
“God help us.”
“Why?”
He stood slowly.
“Because I know who holds it.”
I waited.
He looked directly at me.
“The person who controls Beacon Crest from inside…”
He paused.
“…is someone you trust.”
I felt a chill move through my body.
“Who?”
My grandfather opened his mouth.
Before he could answer, every light in the hospital went out.
Again.
The emergency system activated.
But this time, there was no announcement.
No alarm.
Only silence.
Then the NICU doors opened.
By themselves.
I ran.
My grandfather shouted my name.
But I was already moving.
I reached the glass.
Noah was still there.
Elise was still there.
Both alive.
Both breathing.
Then I saw the nurse standing beside their incubators.
She turned toward me.
Slowly.
She lifted her hand.
And waved.
I recognized her.
She had been the nurse who first told me my twins were stable.
The nurse who had checked my identification.
The nurse who had been standing beside Noah when his records were accessed.
The nurse who had worn a Beacon Crest badge.
But there was one problem.
I had seen her photograph earlier that night.
She wasn't a nurse.
May you like
She was a member of my grandfather's security team.
And she had been dead for six years.
