Chapter 6 — The Twins’ First Fight
Chapter 6 — The Twins’ First Fight
The first time my twins fought for their lives, I wasn't allowed to touch them.
That was the cruelest part.
Noah's monitor began screaming at 2:17 in the morning.
One sharp alarm.
Then another.
Then every machine around his incubator seemed to wake at once.
I jumped out of the chair.
A nurse rushed toward him.
“What's happening?”
“His oxygen saturation is dropping.”
I froze.
Noah's tiny chest moved rapidly beneath the blanket.
His fingers curled.
His face changed color.
“What's wrong with him?”
“We're working on it.”
Then Elise's monitor began alarming too.
I turned.
Her numbers were falling.
“Her too.”
The nurse called for the neonatologist.
Within seconds, the quiet NICU became a storm of movement.
Doctors entered.
Respiratory therapists rushed to the incubators.
Someone pulled a curtain around Noah.
Another nurse moved me backward.
“Mrs. Grant, you need to step away.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“Those are my children.”
“I know.”
“Then let me stay.”
The nurse looked into my eyes.
“You need to trust us.”
I stepped back.
And for the first time since they were born, I couldn't see my babies.
My grandfather arrived five minutes later.
He had been sleeping in a private room upstairs.
He appeared in the doorway wearing a dark sweater, his face pale.
“What happened?”
I couldn't answer.
I pointed toward the curtains.
He immediately understood.
A doctor emerged.
“Mr. Grant?”
“Yes.”
“Your grandson is experiencing severe respiratory distress.”
“And my granddaughter?”
“She is also unstable.”
My grandfather looked at me.
I saw fear in his eyes.
Not the fear of losing money.
Not the fear of losing an empire.
The fear of losing the two children he had only just begun to love.
“Are they going to survive?”
The doctor hesitated.
“We're doing everything possible.”
That wasn't an answer.
I knew it.
My grandfather knew it.
The doctor returned behind the curtain.
I pressed both hands against my mouth.
“Please.”
My grandfather put an arm around me.
“They're fighters.”
I shook my head.
“They're too small.”
“No.”
His voice was firm.
“They're Grants.”
I almost smiled.
Then another alarm sounded.
At 2:43 a.m., Noah stabilized.
At 2:51, Elise followed.
The doctors finally came out.
“They've responded to treatment.”
My knees almost gave way.
“Both?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Thank God.”
The neonatologist looked serious.
“They're extremely premature. Their condition can change quickly.”
“I understand.”
“There may be setbacks.”
“I understand.”
He nodded.
“You're doing well.”
I almost laughed.
“I don't feel like I am.”
“No parent does.”
When I was finally allowed near them, I stood between their incubators.
Noah's tiny hand moved.
Elise's eyes opened briefly.
I touched the glass.
“I thought I was going to lose you.”
My voice broke.
“I can't do this again.”
My grandfather stood behind me.
“You won't have to do it alone.”
I turned.
“What do you mean?”
“I'm staying.”
“You have a company to run.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“I have great-grandchildren to protect.”
The next morning, the hospital security chief came to see us.
His name was Marcus Reed.
He was former federal security.
He had been assigned to my grandfather's family years earlier.
“We have a problem.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Someone accessed the NICU system again.”
My blood ran cold.
“Again?”
“Yes.”
“Did they get into the children's records?”
“We don't know.”
“Find out.”
“We're trying.”
My grandfather interrupted.
“Who had access?”
Marcus handed him a list.
“Doctors. Nurses. Administrators. IT personnel. Family representatives.”
My eyes moved down the list.
Then stopped.
One name.
Richard Vale.
I stared.
“Why does he have access?”
“He doesn't.”
“Then why is he listed?”
Marcus looked uncomfortable.
“That is the problem.”
The access record showed Richard's credentials had been used at 1:58 a.m.
Nineteen minutes before Noah's alarm.
I looked at my grandfather.
“He was here.”
“No.”
Marcus shook his head.
“His credentials were used.”
“Same thing.”
“Not necessarily.”
“What do you mean?”
“Someone may have cloned his credentials.”
My grandfather looked at him.
“Can that be done?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Someone with high-level system access.”
I felt a chill.
“So this isn't random.”
“No.”
Someone had entered the system.
Someone had searched for my children's medical records.
And someone had done it just before they became unstable.
I didn't want to believe the connection.
But I couldn't ignore it.
At noon, Samuel arrived.
He looked exhausted.
“We found another transfer.”
“Richard?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“An account in Zurich.”
“Beneficiary?”
He looked at me.
“Claire Mercer.”
My heart stopped.
“She's dead.”
“That's what we believed.”
“Did you find proof?”
“No.”
I looked at my grandfather.
He didn't speak.
Samuel continued.
“The account was opened eleven years ago.”
“By whom?”
“Richard.”
“Who has accessed it?”
“One person.”
“Who?”
Samuel swallowed.
“Vanessa.”
I sat down.
“She's been accessing her mother's account?”
“Apparently.”
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
I looked toward the NICU.
“Then ask her.”
Vanessa arrived an hour later.
She looked exhausted.
She hadn't slept.
She sat across from me.
“I know what you're going to ask.”
“Then answer.”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
“You accessed your mother's account.”
“Yes.”
“Is she alive?”
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
“I don't know.”
“What does that mean?”
“She disappeared when I was nine.”
“Where did she go?”
“She told me to wait.”
“For what?”
“For someone to come for me.”
“Who?”
“She said your father would.”
I stared.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
I leaned forward.
“Then why did Richard give you access to the account?”
“Because he found me.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
My stomach tightened.
“Six months ago?”
She nodded.
“Before I met Grant.”
“So Richard sent you to him.”
“No.”
She looked horrified.
“I went to Grant myself.”
“Why?”
“To find out what happened to my mother.”
I stared at her.
“And you thought Grant knew?”
“He knew your family.”
“So you seduced him.”
She looked away.
“Yes.”
The honesty shocked me.
“Did you love him?”
“No.”
“Then why stay?”
“Because I thought he could lead me to the truth.”
I felt a strange mixture of anger and pity.
“You used him.”
“Yes.”
“And he used you.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
Vanessa reached into her bag.
She pulled out a small photograph.
A little girl stood beside a woman.
The woman was Claire.
The girl was Vanessa.
Behind them was a hospital.
I recognized the entrance.
Beacon Crest.
My heart stopped.
“When was this taken?”
“Twenty years ago.”
“Why were you here?”
“My mother was sick.”
“With what?”
“She was injured.”
“How?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Who treated her?”
“Your grandfather's hospital.”
I stared at the photograph.
“Then why didn't anyone know?”
“Because she used another name.”
“What name?”
“Clara Mercer.”
My grandfather entered the room.
He saw the photograph.
His expression changed.
“Where did you get that?”
“My mother.”
He took it carefully.
“That's the old west entrance.”
“Yes.”
“Who took the photograph?”
“My father.”
I froze.
“Your father?”
Vanessa nodded.
“I never knew him.”
“Neither did I.”
She looked at me.
“Maybe we had the same father.”
Silence.
My grandfather sat down.
He looked older than he had that morning.
“Your father had an affair.”
I stared.
“With Claire?”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“Did my mother know?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“They separated.”
“And Claire?”
“She disappeared.”
Vanessa whispered:
“She didn't disappear.”
Everyone turned toward her.
“She was taken.”
My blood ran cold.
“By whom?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“She never told me.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because of the letters.”
“What letters?”
“The ones she sent me.”
“Where are they?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“I gave them to Richard.”
My grandfather stood abruptly.
“You what?”
“I was nine. I didn't understand.”
“What did he do with them?”
“I don't know.”
My grandfather's face darkened.
“He destroyed them.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“No.”
She looked at him.
“He kept them.”
That evening, Marcus discovered something.
The person who had accessed the NICU records had used Richard's credentials.
But the camera footage showed someone else.
A woman.
Dark hair.
Long coat.
She entered the administrative corridor at 1:55 a.m.
She remained there for eleven minutes.
Then left.
Marcus enlarged the image.
I stared at the screen.
I didn't know her.
But Vanessa did.
Her face turned white.
“That's her.”
“Who?”
Vanessa pointed at the screen.
“My mother.”
The room went silent.
I stared at the photograph.
The woman looked older.
But the eyes were unmistakable.
Claire.
Alive.
Walking inside Beacon Crest.
The same night my children's medical records were accessed.
My grandfather whispered:
“That can't be.”
Marcus looked at him.
“Apparently it can.”
At 10:12 p.m., my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A woman's voice spoke.
“Emma.”
I froze.
“Who is this?”
“You know.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Claire?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
My grandfather stood beside me.
“Where are you?”
“Not where you think.”
“What do you want?”
“To protect the children.”
I looked toward the incubators.
“How do you know about them?”
“Because they are the reason I came back.”
“Why?”
“They carry something your family has been protecting for generations.”
“What?”
“The inheritance.”
I frowned.
“What inheritance?”
“The original ownership.”
I looked at my grandfather.
He shook his head.
“Why would my children have it?”
“Because the trust changed.”
“When?”
“When you became pregnant.”
My heart stopped.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the trust no longer belongs to you.”
I felt the room tilt.
“Then who owns it?”
Claire whispered:
“Your children.”
The call ended.
I stood completely still.
My grandfather took the phone from my hand.
“Don't believe her.”
“Why?”
“Because Claire has been missing for twenty years.”
“She was in the hospital.”
“I know.”
“And she called me.”
“I know.”
“So she's alive.”
He didn't answer.
I looked at Noah and Elise.
“If the trust belongs to them…”
My grandfather's expression hardened.
“Then everyone who wants the trust will come for them.”
My stomach dropped.
“Grant?”
“Possibly.”
“Richard?”
“Definitely.”
“Vanessa?”
He looked at me.
“I don't know.”
“And Claire?”
He was silent.
I looked at the twins.
Two tiny children surrounded by machines.
Two lives that had already been pulled into a war they didn't understand.
I whispered:
“They're just babies.”
My grandfather placed his hand on the glass.
“I know.”
Then he looked at me.
“And that's why we have to stop this now.”
At midnight, another alarm sounded.
Not from the NICU.
From the security system.
Marcus ran into the room.
“Someone is trying to enter the neonatal floor.”
My heart stopped.
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
“Lock everything.”
“Already done.”
The hallway lights turned red.
Security doors slammed shut.
I could hear footsteps outside.
Fast.
Multiple people.
My grandfather stood in front of me.
Marcus drew his weapon.
“Stay behind me.”
I looked through the glass.
Noah was sleeping.
Elise was sleeping.
Neither knew what was happening.
Then the footsteps stopped.
A figure appeared at the end of the corridor.
A woman.
Long dark coat.
Gray hair.
She slowly walked toward us.
Marcus raised his weapon.
“Stop!”
The woman stopped.
She lifted both hands.
Then looked directly at me.
Even from thirty feet away, I recognized her eyes.
Claire.
She smiled sadly.
“Emma.”
My grandfather whispered:
“No.”
Claire looked at him.
“You should have told her the truth years ago.”
My grandfather's face went pale.
“What truth?”
Claire looked at me.
“That your children weren't born into this war.”
She paused.
“They were born as its prize.”
I stepped forward.
“What do you mean?”
Claire's expression changed.
“Because the people who want the trust don't want the hospitals.”
She looked through the glass at Noah and Elise.
“They want what the trust was created to protect.”
“What?”
Claire's eyes filled with tears.
“The evidence.”
I felt my heart pound.
“What evidence?”
She looked at my grandfather.
“Tell her.”
He didn't move.
Claire continued.
“Tell her what her great-grandfather discovered.”
My grandfather closed his eyes.
Claire's voice became colder.
“Tell her why the Aurelia Trust was built.”
Nobody spoke.
Finally, my grandfather whispered:
“Your great-grandfather discovered that the hospitals were being used to hide something.”
I stared at him.
“Hide what?”
He looked at the twins.
“People.”
The word echoed through the corridor.
I felt sick.
“What people?”
My grandfather couldn't answer.
Claire did.
“Children.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Children who were disappearing from the system.”
My blood ran cold.
“Why?”
“Because someone was selling identities.”
My grandfather looked broken.
“Your great-grandfather found out.”
“And he built the trust to expose them?”
Claire nodded.
“But before he could release the evidence…”
She looked at me.
“He died.”
Silence.
“Then your grandmother continued the investigation.”
“Then my father?”
“He got close.”
“And you?”
“I found the missing records.”
I looked toward my babies.
“What does that have to do with them?”
Claire's face softened.
“The records were never destroyed.”
“Where are they?”
She looked at Noah.
Then Elise.
“Inside the trust.”
My heart stopped.
“How?”
Claire whispered:
“Your children are the first heirs born after the final evidence was secured.”
I didn't understand.
But I knew one thing.
The divorce papers Grant had signed.
The company.
The hospital.
The trust.
Vanessa.
Richard.
Claire.
None of these were separate anymore.
They were pieces of one enormous secret.
And my twins had somehow become the center of it.
Claire lowered her hands.
“I came back to protect them.”
My grandfather stared at her.
“Or to claim the trust.”
Claire looked at him.
“If I wanted the trust, I wouldn't have warned you.”
Then she looked at me.
“Emma, you need to choose who you trust.”
I glanced at my grandfather.
Then at Claire.
Then through the glass at my children.
And for the first time, I realized something terrifying.
May you like
The person I had spent my entire life trusting might be the person who had hidden the most from me.
And the woman my family had called a ghost might be the only person telling me the truth.
