Chapter 3 — The Recording Under the Table
Chapter 3 — The Recording Under the Table
Daniel did not answer.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Not the shattered car window.
Not the men disappearing into the darkness.
Not even Victoria standing fifty feet away beneath the headlights as though she had just dropped a match into a room full of gasoline.
It was Daniel's silence.
The silence of a man who had just heard a secret he had spent years trying to bury.
I stared at him.
"What did she mean?"
He looked at me.
"Emily..."
"No."
My voice shook.
"Don't say my name. Answer me."
Marcus stepped between us.
"Now is not the time."
I turned toward him.
"When is it going to be time?"
A gunshot cracked somewhere in the distance.
Everyone ducked.
Marcus immediately grabbed the radio.
"All units, fall back."
Daniel pulled me toward the vehicle.
"Get inside."
"No."
"Emily."
"I want the truth."
"You'll get it."
"When?"
He looked at me.
"When we're safe."
I laughed bitterly.
"That's what you've been saying for weeks."
He flinched.
Then the forest went silent.
The gunmen were gone.
Victoria was gone too.
Only the black SUV remained.
Its rear lights disappeared between the trees.
Marcus approached it carefully.
He opened the driver's door.
Empty.
The engine was still running.
On the passenger seat sat a small black envelope.
Marcus picked it up.
There was one word written across the front.
EMILY.
He handed it to me.
My fingers felt numb as I opened it.
Inside was a memory card.
Nothing else.
Daniel stared at it.
"What is that?"
I looked at him.
"You tell me."
We returned to the city before sunrise.
Nobody spoke during the drive.
The memory card sat in my hand.
It was tiny.
Almost weightless.
Yet it felt heavier than everything else in the car.
At 5:18 a.m., Marcus brought us into a secure office.
"No phones."
Daniel frowned.
"Why?"
"Because whoever gave us this knows we're looking."
Marcus placed a laptop on the table.
He inserted the card.
One folder appeared.
BALLROOM_11:47PM.
I felt my stomach tighten.
Marcus clicked it.
The video began.
The angle was low.
The table blocked part of the ballroom.
But the staircase was visible.
So was Victoria.
And so was me.
Alive.
Standing.
Talking.
Then the audio began.
Clearer than the first recording.
Victoria's voice came through.
"You should have listened to me."
My voice answered:
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You were never supposed to marry Daniel."
"I love him."
Victoria laughed.
"Love has nothing to do with this."
"Then what does?"
"The child."
I looked at the screen.
My own face appeared.
Confused.
Frightened.
Then Victoria said something that made Daniel stand.
"That child doesn't belong to your marriage."
The video stopped.
Daniel stared at the screen.
Marcus looked at him.
I slowly turned.
"What does that mean?"
Daniel's face was pale.
"I don't know."
I stood.
"You've said that too many times."
"Emily—"
"Play it."
Marcus restarted the video.
Victoria's voice:
"Your husband knows."
My voice:
"Knows what?"
Victoria:
"Who the father is."
Daniel closed his eyes.
I stopped breathing.
Then my own voice screamed:
"You're lying."
Victoria answered:
"Ask him."
The recording ended.
I turned toward Daniel.
"Who is my daughter's father?"
He didn't answer.
"Daniel."
Nothing.
"Look at me."
He did.
Tears were forming in his eyes.
"I am."
I stared.
"What?"
"I am her father."
"Then why did she say—"
"Because she wanted you to doubt me."
I shook my head.
"No."
He stepped closer.
"I swear to you."
"Then explain the recording."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because I don't know what Victoria believes."
"She believes you're not the father."
"I know."
"Why?"
Daniel's voice broke.
"Because the hospital changed your records."
The room went silent.
"What?"
"Your pregnancy records."
He swallowed.
"Someone altered them."
Marcus immediately stood.
"When did you discover this?"
"Three weeks ago."
"You knew?"
Daniel nodded.
"How?"
"My father's attorney contacted me."
"Why?"
"Because someone had requested a paternity review."
I stared at him.
"Who?"
"Victoria."
"Why?"
"She claimed the baby wasn't mine."
I felt sick.
"Did you believe her?"
"No."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
"Because the test results were manipulated."
"What do you mean?"
Daniel looked at Marcus.
"We did a private DNA test."
I froze.
"You tested my baby?"
"Without telling you."
I slapped him.
The sound echoed through the room.
Daniel didn't move.
"You had no right."
"I know."
"You took my baby's DNA without telling me."
"I was trying to protect you."
"You don't get to use that excuse anymore."
He lowered his head.
"I'm sorry."
I turned away.
Marcus remained silent.
Then he said:
"There is one problem."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"The DNA test doesn't prove Daniel isn't the father."
"Then what does it prove?"
Marcus opened a file.
"It proves the sample submitted to the laboratory was not the baby's."
I stared at him.
"Someone switched it."
"Yes."
"When?"
"We don't know."
"Then find out."
"We will."
"No."
My voice hardened.
"You will find out today."
The ballroom recording continued to reveal things.
At 11:52 p.m., Victoria walked away from me.
A man appeared behind the curtain.
He was wearing a hotel staff uniform.
He approached Victoria.
They spoke for less than thirty seconds.
Then he handed her something.
A small envelope.
Victoria opened it.
Her face changed.
She looked toward me.
Then toward the staircase.
The recording ended.
Marcus enlarged the image.
"Can you identify him?"
Daniel shook his head.
"No."
I stared.
"I've seen him."
Both men looked at me.
"Where?"
"At the hospital."
Marcus froze.
"When?"
"Yesterday."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"What was he doing?"
"He was outside my room."
Marcus immediately grabbed his phone.
"Security."
He made a call.
"Send me every camera angle from the maternity floor."
A few minutes later, footage appeared.
The man in the hotel uniform entered the hospital at 3:06 a.m.
But he wasn't wearing the uniform anymore.
He was dressed as a doctor.
He walked directly toward my room.
Stopped.
Looked through the glass.
Then walked away.
Daniel whispered:
"He was watching you."
I nodded.
"Yes."
Marcus zoomed in on his face.
The image sharpened.
We all became silent.
Because the man wasn't a stranger.
He was someone we had met before.
Someone who had been standing beside us after my fall.
Someone who had asked whether my baby was safe.
Someone I had trusted.
The hospital's head of obstetrics.
Dr. Nathan Cole.
I couldn't speak.
Dr. Cole had been my doctor for six months.
He had performed every ultrasound.
He had reassured me after every scare.
He had told me my baby was healthy.
And now we were looking at him sneaking through the hospital at three in the morning.
Daniel whispered:
"He treated you."
"Yes."
Marcus stared at the screen.
"Then he had access to every medical record."
I suddenly remembered the ultrasound technician.
The unusual vascular connection.
The altered records.
The missing DNA sample.
Everything pointed in the same direction.
I felt sick.
"What did he do to my baby?"
Marcus looked at me.
"We don't know."
I grabbed the edge of the table.
"Then find him."
Dr. Cole's office was empty.
His desk had been cleared.
His computer was gone.
His assistant said he had taken emergency leave.
His car was missing.
Marcus checked his apartment.
Empty.
No clothes.
No passport.
No personal photographs.
But underneath the kitchen sink, Marcus found something.
A metal box.
Inside were hospital records.
Not mine.
Hundreds of them.
Pregnant women.
Private patients.
Children.
All connected to wealthy families.
Each file contained the same notation:
LINEAGE VERIFICATION.
Marcus looked horrified.
"This is bigger than your family."
I stared at the files.
"How many?"
"At least forty."
Daniel picked up one.
"This patient gave birth three years ago."
Marcus nodded.
"Her child disappeared from the hospital record."
I looked at him.
"Disappeared?"
"Officially transferred."
"To where?"
"There's no destination."
My stomach twisted.
"This isn't about my baby."
"No."
Marcus closed the box.
"It's about a system."
That afternoon, the police arrived.
The evidence was handed over.
The memory card was copied.
The original was sealed.
But before Marcus could leave, a detective pulled him aside.
I saw their faces change.
"What happened?" I asked.
Marcus hesitated.
"The black phone from the ballroom has been remotely wiped."
My heart sank.
"What?"
"Someone accessed it."
"Can the video be recovered?"
"Maybe."
"Then recover it."
"We're trying."
"How?"
"We found a backup."
I stared.
"Where?"
Marcus smiled faintly.
"The phone was connected to a cloud account."
"Whose?"
He looked at me.
"Yours."
I froze.
"My account?"
"Yes."
"Why would a stranger's phone be connected to my account?"
Marcus didn't answer.
Then I understood.
It wasn't a stranger's phone.
It had been placed there deliberately.
Someone wanted me to have the recording.
Someone wanted me to discover the truth.
The question was:
Who?
At 9:00 p.m., the recovered cloud file opened.
The recording continued beyond what we had seen.
This time, Victoria wasn't speaking to me.
She was speaking to someone else.
A man stood in the shadows.
Only his voice could be heard.
"You have failed."
Victoria answered:
"She survived."
"You were supposed to make it look accidental."
"It was supposed to."
"Then why did she survive?"
"I don't know."
The man stepped closer.
"You were given one job."
Victoria's voice trembled.
"I need more time."
"You don't have time."
"Please."
"No."
A pause.
Then the man said:
"If that child is born, everything belongs to her."
Victoria whispered:
"I know."
"Then stop her."
The screen went black.
Daniel stared.
I stared too.
Marcus rewound the video.
The voice.
I knew it.
I had heard it before.
Not recently.
Years ago.
At my father's funeral.
A man had stood beside my mother.
He had whispered something to her.
I had never seen his face.
But I remembered his voice.
I stood slowly.
"I know who that is."
Daniel looked at me.
"Who?"
I swallowed.
"My father."
Daniel's face went blank.
"Your father is dead."
"I know."
"Emily—"
"I know what I heard."
Marcus stared at the screen.
"The voice could be similar."
"No."
I shook my head.
"It was him."
Daniel stepped closer.
"Your father died eleven years ago."
"I watched them bury him."
"Then how?"
I didn't know.
But the recording had given us something more important than an answer.
It had given us a possibility.
Maybe my father hadn't died.
Maybe the funeral had been a lie.
Maybe the person who had been controlling Victoria had been alive all along.
At midnight, my mother called.
I answered immediately.
"Mom."
Her voice was shaking.
"Emily, where are you?"
"Safe."
"Did you find the recording?"
I froze.
"How do you know about the recording?"
Silence.
"Mom?"
"I need you to listen to me."
"Who is the man in the recording?"
Another silence.
Then she whispered:
"Your father."
My heart stopped.
"You knew?"
"Yes."
"He's alive?"
"Yes."
I couldn't breathe.
"Where is he?"
"I don't know."
"Mom."
"He disappeared after your father's funeral."
"But you said he died."
"I was told to say that."
"By whom?"
She began crying.
"By Victoria."
I closed my eyes.
"Why?"
"Because your father wasn't your father's real identity."
I stared at the wall.
"What?"
My mother's voice broke.
"Your father was part of the Thorne family."
The room spun.
"What are you saying?"
"He was the original heir."
I looked toward Daniel.
He was listening.
His face had gone pale.
My mother continued:
"Before Daniel's father took control of the family, your father was supposed to inherit everything."
Daniel whispered:
"That's impossible."
My mother heard him.
"No."
She said.
"It's the truth."
Then she added something that made my blood turn cold.
"Emily, your baby isn't just the next heir."
"What is she?"
"She's the proof that your father's bloodline survived."
The call ended.
I stood frozen.
Daniel stared at me.
Neither of us spoke.
Then Marcus's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
"What?"
He listened.
"You're sure?"
Another pause.
"Send me the photograph."
A moment later, an image arrived.
Marcus showed us.
It was a recent photograph.
A man walking out of a private clinic.
Older.
Gray-haired.
But unmistakable.
My father.
Alive.
And standing beside him...
was Dr. Nathan Cole.
I stared at the photograph.
Then at Daniel.
Then at the recording.
The truth was no longer hiding.
It was coming toward us.
And somewhere in the city, the man I had buried eleven years ago was still alive.
Watching.
May you like
Waiting.
And apparently, waiting for my daughter to be born.
