Chapter 8: The Girl Who Remembered Everything
We drove until the estate disappeared behind the trees.
Lauren sat beside me, clutching the evidence folder against her chest. Neither of us spoke about the recording. We were both too frightened of what it meant.
When we reached a gas station outside a small town, I pulled into the parking lot and called the police again.
I gave them the estate's address, reported the gunshot, and told them that armed men were holding people inside.
This time, the dispatcher said officers were on their way.
I didn't mention the hidden files.
I didn't mention the recorder.
And I certainly didn't mention that my dead father might be involved in a conspiracy stretching back to my birth.
I wanted proof before I trusted anyone with the truth.
After the call, Lauren stared at me.
“Ryan, there's something I need to tell you.””
I closed my eyes.
“Please don't tell me there's another secret.””
She looked down at her hands.
“There is.””
I let out a slow breath.
“Of course there is.””
“I didn't know Ethan was your brother when I met him. He told me his name was Evan. He was a patient at the clinic where I worked.””
“You slept with a stranger who happened to be my twin brother?””
“I didn't know!””
She raised her voice, then immediately lowered it.
“I know how it sounds. I know what I've done to you. But I wasn't trying to betray you.””
I stared at the steering wheel.
“Did you love him?””
Lauren didn't answer immediately.
That silence hurt more than any confession could have.
“I cared about him,” she finally said.
“He was frightened and alone. I thought I could help him. Then everything happened so quickly.””
“And when you found out Emma might be mine?””
“I wanted her to be yours.””
She reached for my hand.
“I wanted our family to be real.””
I pulled away.
“Our family was real, Lauren. That's what makes this so terrible. You could have told me. You could have trusted me.””
“I was afraid you'd leave.””
I looked at her.
“You made that decision for me.””
Tears slipped down her face.
“Yes.””
For a long moment, we sat in silence.
Then I started the engine.
“We're going to get the girls. After that, you and I are going to decide what happens to our marriage.””
Lauren nodded.
She didn't ask me to forgive her.
That was the first honest thing she'd done all day.
We returned to the house under police supervision. The officers had finished searching the rooms and found the opening behind the closet. They'd also discovered a second passage running behind the bedroom wall, leading toward the basement.
But Sophie and Emma were gone.
An officer met us in the driveway.
“Mr. Mitchell, we need to speak with you.””
I felt my stomach drop.
“Where are my daughters?””
“They were taken to the station for their protection.””
“By whom?””
“A woman claiming to be a relative.””
“Margaret?””
The officer hesitated.
“She's presented documentation establishing temporary guardianship.””
I stared at him.
“She's the woman who kidnapped my wife!””
“We're investigating that allegation.””
I stepped closer.
“Those children are in danger.””
The officer held up his hands.
“Sir, I understand you're upset.””
“Then stop talking to me like I'm a man complaining about a parking ticket!””
Lauren grabbed my arm.
“Ryan, please.””
I forced myself to breathe.
“Where did she take them?””
The officer gave me the address of a family services facility where the girls were supposed to be staying.
We drove there immediately.
At the front desk, a social worker named Ms. Bennett informed us that Sophie and Emma had already been transferred to a private medical center for evaluation.
“Who authorized that?”” I demanded.
She checked her computer.
“The request came from a physician associated with the Mitchell Family Foundation.””
“Did you verify his credentials?””
“Of course.””
“Did you verify his connection to the woman who kidnapped my wife?””
Her expression changed.
“Mr. Mitchell, I'm going to ask you to lower your voice.””
I placed both hands on the counter.
“My daughter was hidden inside a wall. Someone has spent six years trying to erase her identity. If you send her anywhere without verifying who's taking responsibility for her, you could be putting her life at risk.””
Ms. Bennett studied my face.
Then she quietly turned her monitor toward me.
A transfer authorization appeared on the screen.
It had been signed by a judge that morning.
The document named Emma Mitchell as a ward requiring specialized treatment.
At the bottom was the name of the physician responsible.
Dr. Daniel Mitchell.
My father.
I stared at the screen.
“That's impossible.””
Ms. Bennett frowned.
“Is he a relative?””
“He's my father.””
She immediately stood.
“Please wait here.””
She disappeared into a back office.
Lauren grabbed my arm.
“Ryan, we have to find them.””
I looked at the authorization again.
The signature was genuine.
My father was alive, and he had used his identity to move my daughter into a medical facility.
But why?
My phone rang.
An unfamiliar number.
I answered.
“Ryan Mitchell?””
A woman's voice.
“Yes.””
“My name is Dr. Evelyn Shaw. I'm calling from the medical center where your daughters have been brought.””
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“Are they safe?””
A pause.
“Sophie is safe.””
“And Emma?””
Another pause.
“Mr. Mitchell, I need you to come here immediately. There is something in Emma's medical file that you need to see.””
“What?””
“Her genetic profile doesn't match the records we've been given.””
I felt my stomach turn.
“What does that mean?””
“It means someone has been altering her identity for years.””
“Who?””
Dr. Shaw lowered her voice.
“I believe the person who brought her here intended to perform an unauthorized procedure. We've stopped it, but I need you to understand something.””
“What?””
“Emma's records identify two biological fathers.””
I stared at the wall.
“That's impossible.””
“Yes,” she said.
“Which is why I repeated the tests.””
She paused.
“Both results are genuine.””
I closed my eyes.
The genetic profiles had identified Ethan and me as biological fathers.
Twins.
The same genetic markers.
The same DNA patterns.
The science was complicated, but the implication was clear. The hospital's original tests couldn't distinguish between identical twin brothers with certainty using the methods they had employed.
Someone had exploited that ambiguity.
And the person who could prove the truth was the woman who had delivered Emma.
“Where is the doctor who performed the original test?”” I asked.
“Dr. Evelyn Shaw,” she replied.
“I inherited the records after the original physician disappeared.””
“When did he disappear?””
“Six years ago.””
I looked at Lauren.
She had gone completely still.
“What was his name?”” I asked.
Dr. Shaw hesitated.
“Dr. Samuel Carter.””
Lauren's face drained of color.
I turned toward her.
“You know him?””
She nodded slowly.
“He was the doctor who told me Emma had died.””
A cold silence settled between us.
Dr. Shaw continued.
“There's something else. Before he disappeared, Dr. Carter recorded a statement. He claimed that Emma's identity had been deliberately altered at the request of a member of your family.””
“Which member?””
“I don't know. The recording is locked in our archive.””
“Can you release it?””
“Not without a court order.””
I nearly laughed.
“Of course.””
“But I can tell you one thing,” she added.
“The doctor left a note with the file.””
“What did it say?””
Her voice became barely audible.
The child is not the experiment. The father is.
The call ended.
I stood in the hallway, holding my phone as if it had become something dangerous.
Lauren touched my shoulder.
“Ryan?””
I turned toward her.
“What did she mean?””
She shook her head.
“I don't know.””
But her eyes said otherwise.
Before I could question her, a young nurse rushed through the lobby.
“Mr. Mitchell?””
I stepped toward her.
“Yes?””
“Your daughter is asking for you.””
Relief surged through me.
“Where is she?””
The nurse glanced toward the emergency exit.
“She was here a moment ago.””
My relief vanished.
“What do you mean?””
The nurse swallowed.
“She said her father was coming to get her.””
“Which father?””
The nurse looked at Lauren.
Then she whispered, “The one who looks exactly like you.””
I ran toward the emergency exit.
Outside, a black SUV was pulling away from the curb.
A little hand pressed against the rear window.
Emma.
I sprinted after it, shouting her name.
The vehicle accelerated.
As it disappeared into traffic, my phone vibrated.
A message from Ethan.
You have the wrong story, brother.
A photograph followed.
It showed Emma sitting in the back seat beside him.
She was smiling.
May you like
And beneath the image, Ethan had written:
Ask Lauren what she did to our father.
