Chapter 6 - THE OTHER BOY
Ethan looked at the photograph for less than five seconds.
Then he called the number.
Disconnected.
He called again.
Nothing.
The boy in the image appeared healthy.
Standing.
No wheelchair.
No braces.
No visible signs of weakness.
Richard's hand rested casually on his shoulder.
“What do we know about the Hart family?” I asked.
“Nothing yet.”
Ethan called Mateo.
“Find Sarah and James Hart.”
Mateo disappeared.
Dr. Reed kept staring at the DNA results.
“This doesn't make biological sense unless reproductive samples were mixed or intentionally substituted.”
I looked at him.
“English.”
“Amelia gave birth that night.”
“Yes.”
“Ethan is Noah's biological father.”
“Yes.”
“But Amelia isn't Noah's biological mother.”
“Yes.”
“Which means either there was a laboratory error before conception…”
“IVF?” I asked.
Ethan shook his head.
“We didn't use IVF.”
Reed stopped.
That eliminated one possibility.
Which left something worse.
“The maternity records might be false,” I whispered.
Ethan stared at me.
“What do you mean?”
“What if Amelia didn't give birth to Noah?”
“She delivered a boy.”
“I know.”
“But somebody could have switched the babies.”
Reed shook his head.
“That wouldn't explain Ethan's paternity.”
Unless—
I couldn't finish the thought.
Ethan did.
“Unless the other baby's mother had my child.”
Silence.
His face changed.
“No.”
I didn't ask.
He began pacing.
Seven years earlier.
Another woman.
Another pregnancy.
Another secret.
“Was there someone else?” I asked.
His eyes snapped toward me.
“Not while I was married.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
A long pause.
“Before Amelia.”
“Who?”
He looked away.
“Sarah Hart.”
The name struck me.
The mother of the other baby.
Of course.
Ethan's voice was low.
“We were together before Amelia and I married.”
“How long before?”
“Almost a year.”
“Did you know she was pregnant?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Did Amelia know about her?”
“Yes.”
That explained the deeper layer of fear.
Not simply switched babies.
Two women connected to the same man delivering sons in the same hospital on the same night.
The probability was absurd.
Unless someone had planned it.
“Richard knew about Sarah?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Everything led back to Richard.
By sunrise, Mateo had answers.
Sarah Hart was dead.
She had died five years earlier from an accidental overdose.
James Hart wasn't Michael's biological father.
He had filed for divorce shortly after the baby's birth.
And the boy Michael Hart had no current public record.
School records stopped three years earlier.
Medical records stopped.
No address.
Nothing.
“He vanished,” Mateo said.
Ethan pointed to the photograph.
“Not completely.”
Noah entered the study holding the railing.
I jumped up.
“What are you doing downstairs?”
“Walking.”
“You are absolutely not walking down a staircase alone.”
“I didn't.”
Behind him stood Dr. Reed, looking guilty.
“I supervised.”
“You're supposed to be the responsible one.”
“I've been accused of worse.”
Noah noticed the photograph.
“Who's that?”
Ethan moved too late.
Noah picked it up.
He studied the boy.
“He looks like Mom.”
Nobody answered.
Noah looked at Ethan.
“Who is he?”
Ethan crouched.
“We don't know yet.”
“He looks like Mom.”
“Yes.”
“Is he family?”
Ethan swallowed.
“Maybe.”
Noah stared at the picture.
Then said something none of us expected.
“I've seen him before.”
The room froze.
“Where?” I asked.
Noah pointed toward the estate grounds.
“In the trees.”
Ethan stood.
“What?”
“Last summer.”
“Why didn't you tell anyone?”
“I told Aunt Vicky.”
“What did she say?”
“That I was imagining it.”
Ethan looked at Mateo.
“Pull summer footage.”
They found it twenty minutes later.
A distant camera near the north woods.
A small figure beyond the fence.
A boy.
Watching the house.
Three separate days.
Then disappearing.
Richard hadn't simply been hiding him.
He'd brought him close.
Close enough to see Noah.
Close enough to see the life he might believe had been stolen from him.
At noon, a message arrived.
This time a video.
Richard sat inside what looked like a study.
The other boy sat across from him.
“His name is Lucas,” Richard said.
“He has been told the truth.”
Ethan stepped closer to the screen.
Richard continued.
“Amelia gave birth to Lucas.”
Noah's face went white.
I moved to stop the video.
Ethan caught my hand.
“No.”
Richard went on.
“Sarah gave birth to Noah.”
The boy in the video stared at the floor.
“Two mothers. Two sons. One mistake.”
Richard smiled faintly.
“Except it wasn't a mistake.”
My stomach turned.
“I arranged it.”
Ethan whispered, “Son of a—”
Richard continued before he could finish.
“Your father wanted Amelia's child to inherit.”
Ethan froze.
“Your father never considered Sarah good enough for the Caldwell name.”
The explanation unfolded.
Seven years earlier, Ethan's father discovered both women were pregnant.
Amelia, Ethan's wife.
Sarah, his former girlfriend.
Both carrying boys.
Both admitted to the same private hospital.
Richard, acting on orders from Ethan's father, arranged the switch.
Sarah's child—Ethan's biological son—was given to Amelia.
Amelia's biological child was recorded as Sarah's.
Why?
Because DNA testing would show Ethan as Noah's father.
The public heir would remain unquestionably Caldwell.
And Sarah could be pressured into silence.
But the plan had gone wrong.
Sarah discovered the switch.
Amelia eventually discovered irregularities.
Both women began asking questions.
Both women died years apart.
Richard's face filled the screen.
“You want Lucas?”
Ethan's voice cracked.
“He's a child, not a bargaining chip.”
“Then bring me the original ledger.”
“You don't have Noah anymore.”
“No.”
Richard smiled.
“But I have the one thing Noah will eventually need.”
Ethan looked confused.
Richard raised a folder.
“Proof of who his mother was.”
The video ended.
Noah was crying silently.
I knelt.
“Noah.”
“So Mom wasn't my mom?”
My heart broke.
“She was your mom.”
“But he said—”
“I don't care what Richard said.”
Noah looked at Ethan.
“Did Mom love me?”
Ethan was beside him instantly.
“More than anything in the world.”
“Even if she didn't have me in her tummy?”
“Especially because none of that mattered to her.”
Noah wiped his face.
“And the other boy?”
Ethan hesitated.
“He may be her biological son.”
“Then he's my brother?”
Another impossible question.
I answered gently.
“In a way, yes.”
Noah thought about that.
“Does he have a dad?”
Ethan couldn't speak.
I looked at him.
Because Lucas wasn't Ethan's biological child.
Yet he was Amelia's.
The woman Ethan had loved.
The woman who had raised his biological son.
Family had become something no blood test could explain.
Noah stood.
His knees trembled.
I reached for him.
He pushed my hands away.
“I can do it.”
“Noah—”
“I can.”
He took one step.
Then another.
Ethan watched.
So did I.
Noah walked across the study.
Five steps.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
Then he reached his father.
Ethan caught him.
Noah wrapped his arms around his neck.
“We have to get him.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
“Who?”
“My brother.”
Noah looked at the photograph again.
“He looks scared.”
That was the moment the problem changed.
Richard thought he had leverage.
A boy he could exchange for documents.
A secret he could use to divide Ethan and Noah.
Instead, he'd given Noah a reason to fight.
That evening, Margaret woke.
Her first words were not about Richard.
They were about Lucas.
“He knows too much,” she whispered.
I leaned closer.
“Lucas?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Margaret grabbed my wrist.
“Victor.”
My heart stopped.
“Richard knows Victor survived.”
“So?”
“He'll go after his family.”
“Victor doesn't have family.”
Margaret stared at me.
“Yes, he does.”
She swallowed.
“One son.”
I frowned.
“Who?”
May you like
Margaret's answer made the entire room tilt.
“Lucas.”
