PART 4 — THE WOMAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
I stared at the screen.
Elena Marsh.
The name sat beneath the words DEATH CERTIFICATE DISPUTED.
A payment had been made to her yesterday.
That meant one of two things.
Someone was laundering money through a dead woman's identity.
Or Elena Marsh wasn't dead.
I looked at Daniel.
“Call the number attached to the account.”
He shook his head.
“What if they know we're looking?”
“They already know.”
He was silent.
Then he reached for his phone.
The call didn't connect.
A recorded message said the number was no longer in service.
I opened the transaction history.
There were monthly payments.
Same amount.
Same date.
For almost six years.
But one detail made my stomach tighten.
The payments didn't come from Victor's company.
They came from an account belonging to Rachel Foster.
Daniel stared at the screen.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“Rachel told me she was barely surviving after the divorce.”
I looked at the amounts.
She had been sending nearly $18,000 every month.
For years.
“Your ex-wife wasn't broke.”
Daniel's face hardened.
“She wanted me to believe she was.”
We kept scrolling.
Then I noticed another account.
A second name.
Northlake Medical Holdings.
Daniel suddenly stood.
“That company owns the clinic.”
“The clinic that supposedly lost your records?”
He nodded.
“Exactly.”
My heart began pounding.
Everything was connected.
Rachel.
Victor.
The clinic.
The missing medical records.
The twins.
And a woman officially declared dead who might still be alive.
Then Caleb walked into the room.
“Grandpa?”
I quickly closed the laptop.
“Yes, buddy?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
He looked nervous.
“Why does Mommy say Dad isn't allowed to know where we were born?”
I froze.
Daniel stopped breathing.
“Did she say that?”
Caleb nodded.
“She said it once.”
“When?”
“A long time ago.”
Noah appeared behind him.
“She also said we're special.”
I exchanged a look with Daniel.
“What did she mean?”
Noah shrugged.
“She said somebody important wanted us.”
My blood ran cold.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
The boys wandered away.
Daniel sat down.
His hands were shaking.
“This is bigger than the divorce.”
“I know.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You don't understand.”
“Then tell me.”
He took a long breath.
“Six years ago, before Rachel told me she was pregnant, I received an anonymous email.”
“What did it say?”
“That someone was monitoring my company.”
“Did you save it?”
“I thought I deleted it.”
“Thought?”
Daniel looked toward the laptop.
“I might have backed it up.”
We searched his old cloud account.
After nearly twenty minutes, we found it.
One email.
No sender.
No subject.
Only a photograph.
A woman.
Elena.
And a message:
“If you marry Rachel, your children will belong to us.”
I felt sick.
Daniel looked at the date.
It had been sent three months before his wedding.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I thought it was a threat from a competitor.”
“And Rachel?”
“I showed it to her.”
“What did she say?”
“She laughed.”
I stared at him.
“She laughed?”
“She told me someone was trying to scare me.”
Then Daniel suddenly froze.
“I remember something else.”
“What?”
“The photograph.”
He zoomed in.
Behind Elena was a building.
A sign was visible.
St. Mary's Research Center.
I searched the name.
It had been closed for years.
But the property had recently been purchased.
By Victor Hale.
My hands went cold.
“We're going there.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Dad, we need the police.”
“We will.”
“But first we need proof.”
We drove there that afternoon.
The building looked abandoned.
Broken windows.
Overgrown weeds.
Rusting gates.
But there were fresh tire tracks in the mud.
Someone was using the place.
Daniel found a side entrance.
It was unlocked.
Inside, the air smelled of dust and chemicals.
We moved slowly through the hallway.
Then we heard voices.
A man's voice.
Victor.
“She's coming.”
A woman's voice answered.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
My heart stopped.
I recognized that voice.
Rachel.
Daniel looked at me.
She was here.
We stayed hidden.
Victor continued:
“Daniel has the drive.”
Rachel sounded frightened.
“Then get it back.”
“And the children?”
“They can't stay with him.”
“Why?”
“Because if the truth comes out, we're finished.”
I felt my pulse pounding.
Daniel's expression had changed.
He wasn't angry.
He looked devastated.
Rachel continued:
“You promised Elena would never be found.”
Victor was silent.
Then he said:
“She wasn't supposed to survive.”
My blood ran cold.
Daniel grabbed my arm.
We quietly moved toward the voices.
A door stood slightly open.
Inside, Rachel and Victor were standing over a table covered with files.
Then Rachel said something that made Daniel almost collapse.
“The boys aren't the only children.”
Victor looked at her.
“I know.”
“There were three.”
“Two survived.”
Rachel whispered:
“And the third?”
Victor's expression became cold.
“That's why Elena has to remain hidden.”
I felt my heart stop.
Daniel whispered:
“What third child?”
Before I could answer, a floorboard creaked beneath my foot.
Both voices stopped.
Victor turned.
“Who's there?”
We ran.
Daniel grabbed my hand.
We rushed through the hallway as footsteps thundered behind us.
A door slammed.
Then another.
We escaped through the rear entrance.
Outside, we didn't stop until we reached the car.
Daniel bent over, gasping.
“Dad…”
“What?”
“There were three children.”
“I heard.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I remember Rachel being pregnant with only one.”
My stomach dropped.
“What are you saying?”
“She told me she miscarried.”
I stared at him.
“When?”
“Seven months before the twins were born.”
Silence.
Then Daniel's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a woman's trembling voice whispered:
“Daniel…”
He froze.
“Who is this?”
“I don't have much time.”
His face turned white.
“Mom?”
I stared at him.
The voice continued:
“Your children are in danger.”
Daniel gripped the phone.
“Where are you?”
A pause.
Then:
“Ask your father what happened the night I disappeared.”
The call ended.
Daniel looked at me.
I couldn't speak.
Because the woman on the phone had called him by a name only one person had ever used.
Her son.
And if Daniel was right…
then Elena Marsh wasn't dead.
She had been hiding.
For six years.
And she had just contacted her son for the first time.
But before we could process it, another message arrived.
A photograph.
Elena was standing beside a little girl.
The girl looked about six years old.
Beneath the picture were seven words:
“This is the child they couldn't find.”
Daniel stared at the screen.
Then whispered:
“That girl…”
I looked at him.
“What?”
He swallowed.
“She looks exactly like Rachel.”
And suddenly, the mystery of the twins wasn't the only secret we needed to uncover.
Someone had been hiding a third child all along.
