Chapter 2 - THE FATHER WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
Gabriel locked the office door.
I couldn't take my eyes off the hallway monitor.
The man was walking toward the elevators.
Slowly.
Calmly.
Like he owned the building.
Noah stood beside me.
“Is that Daddy?”
I didn't answer.
I couldn't.
Because Ethan Mercer was dead.
At least, that was what I had been told.
Seven years ago, I had received a phone call from an unknown number.
There had been a car accident outside Albany.
A burned vehicle.
No identification.
No body.
The police told me they had found Ethan's wallet inside.
His watch was missing.
I had never questioned it.
I had been twenty-four.
Pregnant.
Terrified.
And completely alone.
Then Noah was born.
I built a life without Ethan.
I learned how to work.
How to pay bills.
How to smile when I wanted to cry.
I stopped asking questions.
Until now.
Gabriel picked up his phone.
“Lock down the building.”
His head of security answered immediately.
“What level?”
“Maximum.”
I stared at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Keeping your son safe.”
“You're assuming that man is dangerous.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“I don't assume anything about Ethan Mercer.”
“Then tell me who he is.”
His expression darkened.
“My father's former protégé.”
“And?”
“And the last person my father trusted before he died.”
I frowned.
“Your father died?”
“Seven years ago.”
The timing hit me.
“That's when Ethan disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“Was Ethan responsible?”
Gabriel didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Noah tugged at my sleeve.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Why does Mr. Roth look scared?”
Gabriel's eyes moved toward him.
Then he crouched.
“Noah.”
“Yes?”
“I need you to do something very important.”
“What?”
“Stay with your mom.”
Noah nodded.
“Okay.”
“And don't open the door for anyone.”
“Even Daddy?”
Gabriel paused.
“Especially him.”
Noah's face fell.
I pulled him closer.
Then the office lights flickered.
Gabriel immediately stood.
“Stay here.”
He moved toward the security panel.
The monitor went black.
Every screen.
Every camera.
Gone.
I whispered:
“What's happening?”
Gabriel didn't answer.
Then the office door handle moved.
Once.
Twice.
Noah grabbed my hand.
“Mommy.”
“I'm here.”
The handle stopped.
A voice came through the door.
My voice nearly disappeared.
“Claire.”
Ethan.
Seven years.
And he still said my name exactly the same way.
Gabriel moved in front of us.
“Ethan.”
Silence.
Then:
“Gabriel.”
“Step away from the door.”
A quiet laugh.
“You still think you can order me around.”
“Try me.”
Ethan's voice changed.
“I don't want Claire.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“I want Noah.”
I stepped forward.
Gabriel blocked me.
“No.”
Ethan continued.
“You have no idea what your son is.”
I shouted:
“He's my child!”
“Exactly.”
Then something slid beneath the door.
A photograph.
Gabriel picked it up.
His face went pale.
I grabbed it.
It showed a hospital room.
Me.
Seven years ago.
Holding newborn Noah.
But there was another person in the photograph.
A man standing behind the glass.
Ethan.
Watching.
I turned the photograph over.
Written on the back were four words:
HE WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE.
I looked at Gabriel.
“What does that mean?”
He stared at Noah.
“I think we need to find out.”
---
We escaped through a private elevator.
Gabriel's security team moved around us.
Noah was carried by one of the guards.
I stayed beside Gabriel.
“Tell me everything.”
“I don't know everything.”
“Then tell me what you know.”
He sighed.
“My father owned a private investment group.”
“I know.”
“Not everything he did was legal.”
“I figured.”
“There was a medical research division.”
I looked at him.
“What kind?”
“Genetics.”
“Why?”
“Because my father believed certain genetic traits could predict intelligence, health, and leadership potential.”
My stomach tightened.
“And the children?”
“His program recruited families.”
“Recruited?”
“Paid them.”
“To do what?”
Gabriel hesitated.
“To participate in experimental genetic screening.”
I stared at him.
“Was Noah part of it?”
“I don't know.”
“You said his name was on the list.”
“Yes.”
“Then find out.”
“I will.”
The elevator stopped.
We entered the underground garage.
A black SUV waited.
Gabriel opened the rear door.
I put Noah inside.
Then a gunshot cracked through the garage.
Everyone ducked.
The windshield of the SUV shattered.
Security returned fire.
Gabriel grabbed me and pulled me behind a concrete pillar.
Noah screamed.
“Mommy!”
“I'm here!”
Another shot.
Then silence.
Gabriel looked toward his security team.
“Status?”
“Shooter escaped.”
I turned to him.
“This is my life now?”
“No.”
He looked at Noah.
“This is something much bigger.”
He pulled a phone from his pocket.
“There is one person who can tell us what happened.”
“Who?”
“My father's former physician.”
“Where is he?”
Gabriel looked at me.
“Dead.”
My stomach sank.
“Then how can he help?”
“Because before he died, he left a message.”
Gabriel played the recording.
An old man's voice filled the garage.
“If you're hearing this, Gabriel, the children were never the experiment.”
A pause.
“The parents were.”
The recording ended.
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Gabriel looked toward Noah.
“I don't know.”
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Ethan.
Ask Gabriel why his mother visited you seven years ago.
I looked up.
Gabriel's face had gone white.
“Your mother came to my apartment?”
He said nothing.
“Gabriel.”
His voice was barely audible.
“She came to see you the night before Ethan disappeared.”
I felt the world tilt.
“Why?”
Gabriel looked at Noah.
May you like
“Because she knew you were pregnant.”
---
