Chapter 9 - THE TRUTH ABOUT THE CHILDREN
The next morning, all three children were tested.
The results changed everything.
Emma had inherited a rare cardiac condition from Grace's family.
Sophie carried the same genetic risk.
But Ethan's results were different.
His blood contained a genetic marker associated with an inherited neurological disorder.
My father knew.
That was why he had collected medical records.
Not to control them.
To monitor them.
I didn't know whether that made him a villain or a desperate man.
Maybe both.
He survived the shooting.
Richard was arrested.
And the evidence from Michael's recordings triggered a massive corporate investigation.
But none of that mattered to me.
My children were alive.
I sat beside Emma's bed.
She opened her eyes.
"Daddy?"
"Yes."
"Did you stay?"
I smiled.
"Yes."
She reached for my hand.
"Good."
Sophie climbed onto the bed carefully.
Ethan stood behind her.
He looked at me.
"Are we going home?"
I looked at Grace.
She nodded.
"Yes."
"For real?"
"For real."
We left the hospital two weeks later.
The photographers were waiting outside.
News vans filled the street.
Everyone wanted to know who the three mysterious Brooks children were.
I refused to speak.
Grace refused too.
We took the children to a quiet house outside Chicago.
For the first time, we had breakfast together.
Three children.
Two parents.
One table.
It felt strange.
Beautiful.
Terrifying.
One morning, Sophie asked:
"Are you and Mommy married?"
Grace nearly choked on her coffee.
I laughed.
"Not anymore."
Sophie frowned.
"Why?"
"Because grown-ups sometimes make mistakes."
She thought about it.
"Can you fix it?"
Grace looked at me.
I didn't answer.
Not yet.
I wanted to earn their trust before I asked for anything else.
Then my phone rang.
My attorney.
"Ryan, you need to come to the office."
"Why?"
"We found another document."
"What document?"
"The original trust."
I drove there.
Daniel looked exhausted.
He placed an old leather book on the table.
"This was hidden by your grandfather."
I opened it.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
Addressed to me.
To Ryan, if you are reading this, your father failed to tell you the truth.
I read on.
My grandfather admitted everything.
Richard was indeed his son.
But there was more.
Michael wasn't his only secret child.
There was another.
A daughter.
And she had a child.
My grandfather's granddaughter.
I stared at the name.
Elena Kane.
The woman everyone believed was dead.
But she wasn't.
The photograph from three years earlier had been real.
She had survived.
And she was the person who had protected Grace.
I looked at Daniel.
"Where is she?"
"We don't know."
Then my phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.
You wanted the truth.
Another message appeared.
Come to the old train station tonight.
Then a photograph.
Elena.
Alive.
Standing beside a man.
I recognized the man immediately.
Michael.
My supposed dead uncle.
The final message appeared.
Your family has been lying to you for twenty-four years.
I stared at the screen.
Then another photograph arrived.
It showed my mother.
May you like
Standing beside Elena.
The timestamp was from yesterday.
