Chapter 13 - THE GHOST IN THE WING
I stood outside Lily’s apartment for ten minutes before I found the strength to knock.
When she opened the door, she held a cup of tea, her face peaceful and unburdened.
I did not know how to tell her that her entire childhood had been a laboratory experiment.
I did not know how to tell her that her sister was alive in Switzerland.
“Mom?” Lily asked, frowning as she looked at my face.
“What happened?”
I walked inside, set the blue folder on her table, and sat down.
I told her everything.
I spoke without hiding behind soft language or protective lies.
I laid out the signatures, the prenatal records, the synthetic compound, and the photograph of Maya.
Lily did not cry.
She did not scream.
She sat motionless for a long time, staring at the photograph of the girl who carried her face.
She touched the paper with the tip of her finger, tracing the line of Maya’s jaw.
“They told you she died in the delivery room?” Lily asked softly.
“Yes,” I answered, tears slipping down my cheeks.
“They said her lungs failed thirty minutes after birth.”
“Daniel handled the paperwork and the cremation arrangements.”
“He brought me a small wooden urn.”
“It contained ash from a medical waste incinerator,” Grant had confirmed an hour earlier.
Lily closed the folder calmly.
“Maya is twenty-eight now.”
“Yes.”
“Is she sick?”
“The file says she receives monthly infusions at the Vance facility.”
“She is dependent on the same antidote.”
Lily stood up, walked to her closet, and pulled out her travel bag.
May you like
“Call Detective Grant,” Lily commanded, her voice ringing with an absolute, terrifying clarity.
“We are going to Switzerland.”
