Chapter 8 - THE ROOM WE LEFT BEHIND
The old house looked smaller.
Five years had changed it.
The garden was overgrown.
The porch sagged.
But the kitchen window was exactly where I remembered it.
Claire stood beside me.
“This is where we were happy.”
I nodded.
“Before everything changed.”
She touched the door.
“I used to think I'd never come back.”
“You don't have to.”
“I do.”
We entered.
Every room held a memory.
The kitchen.
The hallway.
Our bedroom.
The bathroom where Claire had cried after every failed pregnancy test.
I stopped outside that door.
She noticed.
“I remember.”
“So do I.”
“I hated this room.”
“Why?”
“Because every time I looked at myself in the mirror, I wondered what was wrong with me.”
I shook my head.
“There was never anything wrong with you.”
She looked at me.
“You didn't always believe that.”
“I did.”
“You didn't say it.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Of admitting how much I wanted a family.”
She lowered her eyes.
“I wanted one too.”
We stood in silence.
Then I remembered.
The basement.
Claire had once told me she hid important things there.
We went downstairs.
Behind an old shelf, we found a loose panel.
Inside was a metal container.
Claire gasped.
“The ledger.”
I opened it.
Names.
Accounts.
Payments.
Politicians.
Doctors.
Judges.
Private investigators.
And one page marked:
PROJECT BENNETT HEIRS.
My hands shook.
The page listed Noah and Eli.
Next to each name was a code.
One marked JULIAN.
The other marked VICTOR.
Claire covered her mouth.
“No.”
Victor looked at the document.
His face changed.
“That proves it.”
I stared at the codes.
“One of them is your biological son.”
“Yes.”
“And one is mine.”
Victor nodded.
I looked at Claire.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
She began crying.
“I swear.”
I believed her.
Then the door upstairs slammed.
Someone had entered.
Victor whispered,
“They found us.”
We killed the lights.
Footsteps moved through the house.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Then a man's voice echoed downstairs.
“Julian.”
I recognized it.
My father's voice.
Or the voice of the man pretending to be him.
“Come out.”
I held Claire's hand.
He continued.
“You have something that belongs to me.”
I whispered,
“No.”
A gunshot shattered the ceiling.
Claire screamed.
Victor pulled us behind the wall.
Another shot.
Then silence.
We waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Nothing.
Finally Victor moved toward the stairs.
“Don't,” I whispered.
He stopped.
A figure appeared.
Evelyn.
She raised her hands.
“I'm not here to hurt you.”
I didn't trust her.
“You kidnapped my sons.”
“No.”
“Then where are they?”
“With someone who wants them alive.”
“Who?”
She looked at Claire.
“Your wife knows.”
Claire shook her head.
“I don't.”
Evelyn sighed.
“You really don't remember?”
Claire's face changed.
“Remember what?”
“The fertility clinic.”
Claire froze.
Evelyn looked at me.
“Your father didn't steal embryos.”
She paused.
“He stole the records.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“The twins were conceived naturally.”
Claire stared at her.
“But…”
Evelyn smiled.
“Your wife was already pregnant before the procedure.”
I felt dizzy.
“What are you saying?”
Evelyn whispered,
“The twins are both Julian's.”
Victor stared at her.
“What?”
“Your father forged the DNA report.”
Victor stepped backward.
Evelyn continued.
“He wanted you to believe one child belonged to Victor.”
“Why?”
“To make the family fight.”
I looked at Claire.
She was crying.
“My babies…”
I took her hand.
“They're both mine?”
She nodded through tears.
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
For five years, I had believed I had no children.
Then I learned I had two.
Now I learned both were mine.
But before I could celebrate, Evelyn whispered:
“There's one thing you still don't know.”
“What?”
She looked toward the stairs.
“Your father didn't order the kidnapping.”
I frowned.
“Then who did?”
Evelyn's expression became terrified.
“The boys did.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
She whispered,
“They weren't kidnapped.”
“They were taken willingly.”
“Why?”
“Because someone taught them to run.”
I looked at Claire.
Her face went white.
And from somewhere upstairs came Noah's voice.
“Daddy?”
I ran toward the sound.
But there was nobody there.
Only a recording.
May you like
And beneath it, another message.
WE KNOW YOU'RE LISTENING.
