PART 3 — THE TWINS' REAL MOTHER
I couldn't take my eyes off the document.
Biological mother: Unknown.
I read it again.
Then a third time.
“No.”
Daniel didn't move.
“Dad…”
“You're telling me Rachel may not be their mother?”
“I don't know.”
“You're their father.”
“I know.”
“Then how can you not know?”
His eyes filled with shame.
“Because Rachel controlled everything.”
I looked toward Caleb and Noah.
They were laughing over something on the table.
They had no idea their entire history might be a lie.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
Daniel took a long breath.
“Rachel told me she was pregnant after we had already been married for several months.”
“And you believed her.”
“Of course I did.”
“Did you go to the appointments?”
“Some.”
“Some?”
“She said the clinic had strict privacy rules.”
My stomach tightened.
“What clinic?”
“Northlake Family Center.”
I had never heard of it.
“Where was it?”
“Outside Chicago.”
“And the twins were born there?”
“Yes.”
“Why not a regular hospital?”
“Rachel said she wanted privacy because of my company.”
I stared at him.
“And you never questioned it?”
“I did.”
“What happened?”
“She accused me of not trusting her.”
He looked down.
“Then she started crying.”
I understood.
Rachel had learned exactly how to control him.
Make him feel guilty for asking questions.
Make him afraid that defending himself would make him look cruel.
And now I realized something else.
The same tactic had been used in court.
Daniel hadn't been weak.
He had been manipulated.
I took out my phone.
“What's the clinic's address?”
Daniel gave it to me.
I searched it.
The building had been demolished two years earlier.
A new medical center stood there now.
“That's convenient,” I said.
Daniel nodded.
“I tried to get the records.”
“And?”
“Nothing.”
“Why?”
“They said the records were destroyed during a system migration.”
My heart sank.
“That sounds deliberate.”
“It probably was.”
I looked at the birth certificates again.
There was a small code beside each child's name.
NF-7281.
The same code appeared on both.
“What does this mean?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I don't know.”
I took a photograph of the code.
Then I called a friend who worked in medical records.
She agreed to look into it.
While we waited, I asked Daniel another question.
“Where was Rachel during the divorce proceedings?”
“Usually with Victor.”
My stomach tightened.
“Always?”
“Almost.”
“Did she ever meet alone with him?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“His office. Hotels. Private clubs.”
I looked at him.
“You never confronted them?”
“I did once.”
“What happened?”
“She told me Victor was helping her.”
“With what?”
“Legal expenses.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
Then my phone rang.
It was my friend.
Her voice was tense.
“Daniel's clinic code isn't a normal medical record number.”
“What is it?”
“It belongs to a private reproductive database.”
My heart stopped.
“Reproductive?”
“Yes.”
“Why would twins have that code?”
“I don't know.”
She paused.
“But I found something else.”
“What?”
“The records weren't destroyed.”
I sat up.
“What?”
“They were transferred.”
“To where?”
She gave me an address.
My blood ran cold.
It was the same building where Victor's holding company was registered.
I looked at Daniel.
“Victor has the medical records.”
His face went pale.
“That can't be.”
“Apparently it can.”
I stood.
“We're going there.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Dad, it's dangerous.”
“I don't care.”
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
He looked at the twins.
“If Victor has those records, he knows something about them.”
“Something you don't know?”
Daniel nodded.
“And that's exactly why we're going.”
* * *
Victor's building stood in downtown Chicago.
A glass tower surrounded by expensive restaurants and private offices.
We entered through the lobby.
Daniel immediately recognized the receptionist.
“Laura.”
She looked at us.
Her face went white.
“Daniel?”
“What are you doing here?”
She glanced toward the elevators.
“I can't talk to you.”
“Why?”
“Because they told me not to.”
“Who?”
She shook her head.
Then whispered:
“You shouldn't have come.”
I stepped closer.
“Laura, my grandchildren are involved.”
Her expression changed.
She looked at Caleb and Noah.
Then tears appeared in her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
She looked around.
“Come with me.”
She led us into a private conference room.
Then locked the door.
“I never wanted to help them.”
Daniel stared at her.
“Then why did you?”
“They threatened me.”
“With what?”
“My daughter.”
Silence.
“Victor knew where she lived.”
Laura wiped her eyes.
“He told me that if I didn't cooperate, I'd never see her again.”
“What did you do?”
“I changed files.”
Daniel's jaw tightened.
“Which files?”
“Your financial records.”
“The custody documents?”
“Yes.”
“The psychiatric report?”
She nodded.
I felt sick.
“You forged everything?”
“I didn't write the reports.”
She looked at Daniel.
“I only made sure the right documents disappeared.”
“Why?”
“Because they needed you to look unstable.”
Daniel stared at her.
“Why?”
Laura whispered:
“Because they needed control of the twins.”
The room became silent.
I leaned forward.
“Why are those boys so important?”
Laura looked terrified.
“They aren't ordinary custody cases.”
“What does that mean?”
She hesitated.
Then pulled a flash drive from her purse.
“This is everything I know.”
Daniel took it.
“What is it?”
“Genetic records.”
My heart stopped.
“Whose?”
“The twins.”
She looked at me.
“And another woman.”
“Who?”
Laura's eyes filled with tears.
“Their biological mother.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Where is she?”
Laura shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Who is she?”
She opened her mouth.
Before she could answer, the lights suddenly went out.
The conference room fell into darkness.
A second later, the door handle began moving.
Someone was trying to get inside.
Laura whispered:
“Hide the drive.”
Daniel slipped it into his coat.
The handle stopped.
Then a voice came through the door.
Victor.
“I know you're in there.”
Daniel stood.
I grabbed his arm.
“Don't.”
Victor spoke again.
“You're looking for the twins' mother.”
Silence.
Then:
“You're going to regret finding her.”
His footsteps moved away.
We waited.
Finally, Laura opened a second exit.
We escaped through a service corridor.
Outside, Daniel looked at the flash drive.
“We need to know what's on this.”
We returned home.
I opened it on my laptop.
There were hundreds of files.
Medical reports.
DNA sequences.
Financial transactions.
Then I saw one folder.
PROJECT FAMILY.
Inside was a single photograph.
A young woman holding newborn twins.
Caleb.
Noah.
The woman looked directly at the camera.
I had never seen her before.
But Daniel had.
He stared at the photograph for several seconds.
Then he whispered:
“Dad…”
“What?”
“That woman…”
His face had gone completely pale.
“I know her.”
“Who is she?”
He swallowed.
“She was my wife’s best friend.”
I stared at the screen.
“Rachel's best friend?”
He nodded.
“She disappeared six years ago.”
Then another file opened automatically.
A document appeared.
BIOLOGICAL MOTHER: ELENA MARSH
STATUS: DECEASED
But underneath that line was a red warning:
DEATH CERTIFICATE DISPUTED.
I looked at Daniel.
“If she died…”
He whispered:
“Then why does someone keep paying her every month?”
And at that moment, a new transaction appeared on the screen.
The most recent payment had been made yesterday.
The recipient:
Elena Marsh.
