“So,” Mark whispered.
His face had completely changed.
“No more pretending, Hailey.”
For one terrible second, neither of us moved.
Martin slept beside me, completely unaware that the man standing only a few feet away had helped steal his twin brother.
I tightened one hand around the edge of the blanket.
Mark looked at my phone.
Then at his.
Then back at me.
“How much do you know?”
I forced myself to breathe.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He laughed.
It wasn’t the soft nervous laugh he’d been using all week.
This one was empty.
“Come on.”
He stepped closer.
“Rachel suddenly appears. That woman in the suit appears. Judy keeps finding reasons to stay in your room. Then Mom texts me that Belmont is compromised.”
My heart jumped.
Compromised.
That meant Evelyn’s agents had gotten close.
Maybe they were already at the estate.
I had to keep Mark here.
I had to buy them time.
“I saw the video,” I said.
His expression went still.
There was no point pretending anymore.
“Which video?”
“The one where you signed my son away.”
For several seconds, Mark said nothing.
Then he slowly sat down.
Strangely, he looked relieved.
Like carrying the lie had exhausted him.
“So Judy did send it.”
“You knew she had it?”
“No.”
“But you suspected.”
“Mom did.”
I stared at him.
“My baby is alive.”
Mark rubbed both hands over his face.
“Hailey—”
“Don’t say my name like you’re about to explain this.”
“You don’t understand what happened.”
“You handed my newborn son to another man while I was unconscious.”
“It wasn’t another man.”
“I watched you do it.”
“You saw twenty-seven seconds.”
“Twenty-seven seconds were enough.”
“No, they weren’t.”
He stood again.
“You nearly died.”
“So you sold my baby?”
“We didn’t sell him.”
“The video literally mentioned money.”
“That wasn’t payment for Matthew.”
I almost couldn’t stand hearing him use that name.
“His name isn’t Matthew.”
Mark looked at me.
“Mom chose it.”
“I don’t care.”
“Hailey—”
“His name isn’t Matthew.”
My voice cracked.
“We hadn’t even decided between Noah and Daniel yet.”
Mark lowered his eyes.
For the first time, I saw something that looked almost like shame.
Almost.
Then it vanished.
“Mom thought Matthew mattered.”
“To her.”
“Yes.”
“He is my son.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
I pointed toward Martin.
“If you knew what those words meant, you never would’ve separated them.”
Mark looked toward the door.
His phone vibrated again.
He ignored it.
That frightened me more than if he’d answered.
“What was the plan?” I asked.
Silence.
“Tell me.”
“You won’t understand.”
“Try.”
Mark paced toward the window.
For several seconds, he stared outside.
Then he spoke.
“Mom has been trying to protect the family for years.”
I almost laughed.
“Protect the family from what?”
“Everything falling apart.”
“What does that even mean?”
“The foundation.”
“Your mother’s charity?”
“It’s bigger than a charity.”
He turned toward me.
“The Vance Foundation funds half the pediatric programs in this hospital. Research labs. Scholarships. Housing projects. Bennett handles several donor networks.”
“And that has what to do with my baby?”
“Everything.”
My stomach tightened.
Mark continued.
“Charles Bennett and his wife, Lorraine, have been trying to have a child for almost fifteen years.”
I already knew where this was going.
“No.”
“Listen.”
“No.”
“They tried everything.”
“I don’t care.”
“Surrogacy failed twice. Adoption fell through three times.”
“So you gave them mine?”
Mark flinched.
“They weren’t strangers.”
“That’s supposed to make it better?”
“Mom has known Charles since childhood.”
“I don’t care if she knew him before kindergarten.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“You have no idea how much Bennett has done for our family.”
There it was.
Not love.
Not desperation.
Debt.
“What did he do?”
Mark didn’t answer.
“What did Charles Bennett do for Wendy?”
Another vibration.
Mark glanced at the phone.
This time I saw fear.
“Answer me.”
He whispered, “He saved her.”
“From what?”
Mark looked toward the hidden camera.
Then back at me.
And I suddenly understood why he had been careful with every word.
“Turn that thing off,” he said.
“What?”
“The camera.”
“I don’t control it.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You knew about it.”
“Only tonight.”
Mark looked toward the ceiling.
Then walked beneath the smoke detector.
He pulled a chair toward it.
“Don’t.”
He ignored me.
He climbed up and ripped the false cover down.
A tiny device dropped into his hand.
He stared at it.
Then placed it inside the water pitcher.
The little light disappeared beneath the surface.
My heart sank.
If Evelyn had been watching, she’d lost the feed.
But maybe she’d already heard enough.
Mark stepped down.
“What did Bennett save Wendy from?” I asked again.
He sat on the edge of the chair.
“When my father died, Mom inherited far less than everyone thought.”
I frowned.
“Wendy is worth millions.”
“Now.”
“Meaning?”
“The foundation was collapsing.”
He stared at the floor.
“There were loans. Bad investments. Lawsuits nobody knew about.”
“And Bennett?”
“Covered them.”
“Why?”
“Because he and Mom had an agreement.”
My skin went cold.
“What agreement?”
Mark shook his head.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters if my child was payment.”
“He wasn’t payment.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because he wasn’t.”
“Then explain the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
His eyes snapped toward mine.
I watched the realization spread across his face.
I knew about the amount.
That meant Judy had shown me more than the security video.
“Who told you that?”
“Answer me.”
Mark stood.
“Who told you?”
“Was it payment?”
“No.”
“Then what was it?”
His jaw tightened.
“An emergency transfer.”
I stared at him.
“For what?”
“The foundation.”
“You transferred two hundred and fifty thousand dollars into the foundation?”
“Yes.”
“From Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The morning after the birth.”
My stomach turned.
“And that’s supposed to make this sound less like you sold him?”
“It was a donation.”
“In exchange for my son.”
“No.”
“At the exact same time?”
Mark looked away.
“Coincidence?”
Silence.
“Mark.”
“It was already arranged.”
My entire body went cold.
“Before I went into labor?”
He didn’t answer.
“How long before?”
Nothing.
I suddenly remembered Wendy’s comment months earlier.
Raising twins will destroy your marriage.
I can take one.
I’d laughed.
Mark hadn’t.
“How long?”
“About four months.”
I stopped breathing.
“You planned to take one of my babies four months ago?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?”
“Mom came to me.”
“And?”
“She said Bennett needed a child.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“People don’t get children because they need them.”
“I know.”
“Apparently you don’t.”
Mark ran both hands through his hair.
“Mom said we would never manage two newborns.”
“So you believed her?”
“You were already overwhelmed.”
“I was pregnant with twins.”
“You were crying constantly.”
“My back hurt and I couldn’t sleep.”
“You stopped working.”
“You asked me to stop working.”
Mark froze.
Another memory suddenly made sense.
The way he had slowly taken over everything.
The bank account.
The appointments.
The insurance paperwork.
The hospital registration.
The birth plan.
He hadn’t been helping.
He had been creating control.
“You wanted me dependent on you,” I whispered.
“No.”
“You wanted me tired.”
“No.”
“You wanted everyone to believe I couldn’t handle two babies.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then why did Wendy keep telling people I was overwhelmed?”
Mark didn’t answer.
I remembered her at the baby shower.
Hailey is exhausted already.
I don’t know how she’ll manage two.
I’d smiled when she said it.
People had laughed.
Now I wondered how many of them had been hearing the beginning of a story Wendy planned to finish later.
“Did you plan the emergency too?”
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Mark’s face changed.
My heartbeat slowed.
Too slowly.
“What?”
“The pain.”
I stared at him.
“The ambulance.”
“Hailey.”
“The emergency C-section.”
“You had a placental complication.”
“Did you know it was going to happen?”
“That’s insane.”
His reaction was too strong.
Too quick.
I felt ice spread through me.
“Mark…”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
He stood.
“Absolutely not.”
For once, I believed him.
Not because he sounded sincere.
Because genuine fear had entered his face.
Like I had finally stepped near something even he didn’t understand.
“What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re afraid.”
“I’m angry.”
“No.”
I watched him carefully.
“You didn’t expect me to almost die.”
His face drained of color.
I knew.
“You didn’t.”
“Of course not.”
“You planned to take one twin after a normal delivery.”
Mark said nothing.
“But something went wrong.”
He looked toward the floor.
“And somebody used that.”
My thoughts raced.
Wendy.
Bennett.
Hospital access.
Forged documents.
A fake agency.
A hidden camera.
What if Mark knew only part of what happened?
“What happened before the ambulance?”
“Hailey, stop.”
“What did I eat?”
“What?”
“That afternoon.”
He stared at me.
“I don’t remember.”
“You made me tea.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“You made me tea.”
“I make you tea all the time.”
“No.”
I remembered.
Mark had been at work.
Wendy had come by.
She brought a small basket.
Tea.
Cookies.
A lavender sleep blend she claimed would help me rest.
Twenty minutes after drinking it, I’d felt sick.
But the terrible pain hadn’t started until later.
My pulse jumped.
“Wendy came to the house.”
Mark looked confused.
“When?”
“The afternoon I went into labor.”
“I didn’t know that.”
That answer felt genuine too.
“She brought me tea.”
“So?”
“Did you ask her to come?”
“No.”
His phone vibrated again.
This time he looked.
Whatever he read made his face go white.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Mark.”
He locked the screen.
“Who texted you?”
“Mom.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing.”
Then my own phone vibrated.
Mark immediately looked toward it.
Neither of us moved.
Slowly, I picked it up.
Evelyn.
DO NOT REACT.
My heart hammered.
I kept my face blank.
Another message appeared.
AGENTS ENTERED BELMONT.
Another.
THE BABY WAS NOT THERE.
My stomach dropped.
No.
No.
No.
Another message.
HOUSE WAS CLEARED OUT LESS THAN TEN MINUTES BEFORE ARRIVAL.
I looked at Mark.
He was watching me.
“What is it?”
“My sister.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing important.”
His eyes narrowed.
Then another message appeared.
Evelyn:
WE FOUND THE EMPTY BASSINET.
AND SOMETHING ELSE.
A PHOTO OF WENDY WITH CHARLES BENNETT DATED 1997.
I frowned.
1997?
Why would that matter?
Then:
THEY WERE ENGAGED.
I nearly dropped the phone.
Wendy and Bennett.
Engaged.
Not childhood friends.
Not family acquaintances.
Engaged.
Mark noticed my expression.
“What?”
I looked at him.
“Your mother was engaged to Charles Bennett.”
His face changed.
“Who told you that?”
“So it’s true.”
Mark stood.
“Hailey.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it doesn’t matter.”
“They were engaged.”
“Thirty years ago.”
“Why did it end?”
Mark didn’t answer.
“Why?”
“He married someone else.”
“Lorraine?”
“Eventually.”
“What happened between them?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I was a kid.”
Another message from Evelyn.
THERE’S A SECOND PHOTO.
WENDY IS HOLDING A NEWBORN.
DATE: APRIL 1999.
I stared at it.
Mark was born in 1999.
My eyes slowly lifted.
“What?”
Mark asked.
“When were you born?”
His face twisted.
“You know when I was born.”
“April eighteenth.”
“Yes.”
I looked at the message.
April 1999.
Wendy holding a newborn.
At Belmont Estate.
A property owned by Charles Bennett.
My heart began pounding.
“Was Charles Bennett there when you were born?”
Mark didn’t answer.
“Mark.”
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
“I said I don’t know.”
But he had stopped looking at me.
And suddenly another possibility appeared.
A possibility so strange I almost dismissed it.
But tonight nothing was too strange anymore.
“Who was your mother’s doctor?”
“What?”
“When she had you.”
“How would I know?”
“Was it Bennett?”
“He’s a plastic surgeon.”
“Now.”
Mark stared at me.
Neither of us spoke.
Then his phone rang.
WENDY.
Mark answered instantly.
“Mom?”
I could hear shouting from the other side.
Not words.
Just Wendy’s frantic voice.
Mark stood.
“Slow down.”
Pause.
“What?”
His face drained of color.
“How did they find Belmont?”
He looked at me.
That was enough.
He turned away.
“No. She hasn’t—”
Pause.
“What do you mean you moved him?”
My entire body became still.
Moved him.
My baby.
Mark listened.
“Where?”
Pause.
“Mom, where?”
Wendy’s voice continued.
Mark’s face changed from fear to disbelief.
“You took him there?”
My heart hammered.
Where?
Where was my son?
Mark whispered:
“That’s insane.”
Pause.
“No.”
Another pause.
“I said no.”
He looked at Martin.
Then at me.
Wendy was asking him to do something.
Something he didn’t want to do.
“No, Mom. I’m not bringing them.”
My blood went cold.
Them.
Me and Martin.
Wendy wanted us somewhere.
Mark’s voice rose.
“You said the deal was one baby.”
The room went silent.
One baby.
He had finally said it.
His eyes met mine.
Both of us knew I had heard.
Wendy kept talking.
Mark whispered:
“No.”
Then louder:
“No, Mom. Absolutely not.”
Pause.
“What do you mean it’s too late?”
Mark’s face turned completely white.
“Mom?”
The call ended.
He stared at the screen.
“What happened?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Where is my son?”
Nothing.
I raised my voice.
“WHERE IS MY SON?”
“Stop.”
“Tell me!”
“Stop yelling.”
“Tell me where she moved him!”
Mark looked toward Martin.
Then the hallway.
Then back at me.
“We have to leave.”
My heart skipped.
“What?”
“Right now.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Hailey, listen to me.”
He moved toward the bassinet.
I pulled Martin close.
“Don’t touch him.”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“You already helped enough.”
“No, you don’t understand.”
He looked frightened.
Truly frightened.
“Mom changed the plan.”
“What plan?”
“Everything was supposed to stop after Bennett got Matthew.”
“Stop calling him that.”
“Fine. The baby.”
“My son.”
“Your son.”
He lowered his voice.
“But the agents showing up changed everything.”
“Where did Wendy take him?”
Mark looked toward the door again.
“Somewhere Bennett keeps property under another name.”
“What name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Liar.”
“I really don’t.”
“Then why are you scared?”
“Because Mom said she needs leverage.”
My blood froze.
“Leverage against who?”
“Everyone.”
“What does that mean?”
“She thinks if she controls both babies, nobody can force her to talk.”
I stared at him.
“Both babies.”
“That’s why we need to leave.”
“You think I’m giving you Martin?”
“No.”
“I’m taking both of you somewhere safe.”
I almost laughed.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“The man who helped steal one?”
“I made a mistake.”
“A mistake?”
“I thought Bennett would give him a good life.”
“You don’t get to choose who gives my son a good life.”
“I know that now.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“No. You’re scared because your mother turned on you.”
Mark had no answer.
That was the truth.
He hadn’t developed a conscience.
He’d lost control of the plan.
I held Martin closer.
“If you want to help, tell Evelyn everything.”
His head snapped toward me.
“The federal prosecutor?”
“So you did recognize her.”
Mark went silent.
“Talk.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because it doesn’t end with Mom.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“This is bigger than Wendy.”
“Who else?”
Mark shook his head.
“Mark.”
“People at the hospital.”
“We know.”
“Not just Bennett.”
“Who?”
He paced.
“Doctors. Administrators. Attorneys.”
My stomach turned.
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“How many babies?”
That stopped him.
His face changed.
I felt something inside me collapse.
“Mark…”
He looked away.
“How many babies?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do know something.”
“There were rumors.”
“What rumors?”
He whispered, “That Northbridge never really closed.”
My blood ran cold.
“But it closed twelve years ago.”
“On paper.”
I thought of Evelyn’s old article.
International adoption irregularities.
Fake transfers.
Money.
“How long has Wendy known?”
“Years.”
“Has she done this before?”
Mark didn’t answer quickly enough.
“Has she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mark!”
“I DON’T KNOW.”
Martin stirred.
I immediately lowered my voice.
Mark looked ashamed.
But I couldn’t care anymore.
“One thing.”
“What?”
“Tell me one true thing.”
He stared at me.
“Just one.”
I swallowed.
“Did you ever love me?”
The question surprised him.
It surprised me too.
Because despite everything—the baby, the lies, Wendy, Bennett—some tiny broken part of me still needed to know.
Mark sat slowly.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“What?”
“When did you stop?”
“I didn’t.”
“You sold my son.”
“I thought—”
“Don’t.”
I shook my head.
“Don’t explain it again.”
Tears filled his eyes.
Maybe real.
Maybe not.
“I thought two babies would ruin us.”
“No.”
“You were overwhelmed.”
“No.”
“Mom kept saying—”
“There.”
I stared at him.
“That’s your answer.”
“What?”
“You loved your mother’s opinion more than you loved me.”
Mark said nothing.
“You trusted Wendy more than your wife.”
Nothing.
“You chose her plan over your children.”
He looked down.
And I realized I didn’t need another answer.
My phone vibrated.
Evelyn.
We both looked.
This time I opened it.
COME TO THE EAST SERVICE ELEVATOR IF SAFE.
AGENTS ARE INSIDE THE HOSPITAL.
DO NOT USE MAIN HALLWAY.
Relief flooded me.
I stood carefully.
Mark moved.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Hailey.”
“Don’t.”
I picked up Martin.
My legs were weak, but adrenaline kept me upright.
“I’ll call the nurse.”
“You can’t go into the hallway.”
“Why?”
“Because Mom has someone here.”
My heart stopped.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Then how do you know?”
“She said, ‘The hospital is handled.'”
My skin prickled.
The hospital is handled.
Judy.
Rachel.
Evelyn.
Whoever helped Wendy might still be nearby.
I texted Evelyn:
MARK SAYS WENDY HAS SOMEONE INSIDE HOSPITAL.
The response came:
WE KNOW.
STAY INSIDE.
I looked at Mark.
“Who do you trust in this hospital?”
“No one.”
“Not even Bennett?”
“Especially not Bennett.”
A knock came at the door.
Mark and I froze.
“Mrs. Vance?”
A man’s voice.
Not Judy.
“Doctor needs to see you.”
Mark slowly backed away from the door.
“Don’t answer.”
“Mrs. Vance?”
Another knock.
“Who is it?” I called.
“Dr. Harris.”
I frowned.
I’d never met a Dr. Harris.
Mark shook his head.
“No.”
The handle turned.
Locked.
Thank God Judy had shown me how to lock it.
“Mrs. Vance, please open the door.”
Mark grabbed a chair and pushed it against the handle.
I stared at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Buying time.”
The man outside stopped knocking.
Then silence.
Too much silence.
My phone vibrated.
Evelyn:
DO NOT OPEN.
WE DO NOT HAVE A DR. HARRIS ON YOUR FLOOR.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Mark whispered, “I told you.”
I looked toward the bathroom.
“Is there another exit?”
“No.”
“Window?”
“Six floors up.”
“Then what?”
Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out a keycard.
“What is that?”
“Staff access.”
“Why do you have staff access?”
“Mom gave it to me.”
“Of course she did.”
Mark moved toward the wall beside the supply cabinet.
He pushed something.
A narrow service panel clicked open.
I stared.
“What is that?”
“Maintenance corridor.”
“You knew that existed?”
“Mom showed me.”
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“I think you know why.”
This was how they moved my baby.
Not through the public hallway.
Not past cameras everyone could access.
Through service corridors.
My stomach turned.
The knocking started again.
Harder.
“Mrs. Vance!”
Mark opened the panel.
“Come on.”
I didn’t move.
“You expect me to follow you into a hidden corridor?”
“If that door opens, you’ll wish you had.”
I looked at my phone.
No message from Evelyn.
I made a decision.
“If you try anything—”
“I won’t.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“I know.”
I stepped toward the opening.
The corridor beyond was narrow and dim.
Pipes lined the ceiling.
Mark went first.
I followed with Martin.
He closed the panel behind us.
Instant darkness.
Then emergency lights flickered on.
“Where does this go?”
“East stairwell.”
“Evelyn told me to go to the east service elevator.”
Mark stopped.
“You told her where we are?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
That word surprised me.
“You want the agents?”
“I want this finished.”
We moved quickly.
My incision hurt with every step.
Martin began fussing.
“It’s okay,” I whispered.
“Mommy’s here.”
The words almost destroyed me.
Because somewhere, his brother didn’t have me whispering them.
Yet.
We reached an intersection.
Mark checked both directions.
“Left.”
We turned.
Then he stopped so suddenly I almost walked into him.
“What?”
He pointed.
On the concrete floor was a small blue hospital blanket.
Folded.
I recognized it immediately.
It was identical to the blanket Judy had placed around Martin.
Mark picked it up.
His hands shook.
“This wasn’t here earlier.”
“How do you know?”
“Because…”
He stopped.
“Because what?”
Mark stared at the blanket.
“Because this is the corridor they used.”
My chest tightened.
“For my son?”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
I felt sick.
“You walked them through here.”
“Yes.”
“While I was unconscious upstairs.”
“Yes.”
I wanted to hate him so completely that nothing else remained.
But seeing his face now, I saw something else too.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For the first time, maybe fear for the child he had abandoned.
Mark turned the blanket over.
Something was written on the corner in black marker.
B-17.
“What is B-17?” I asked.
Mark went pale.
“I don’t know.”
“Liar.”
“I don’t.”
He pulled out his phone.
Typed.
Waited.
“What are you doing?”
“Searching the foundation property list.”
“What?”
“Bennett labels properties with letters and numbers.”
My heart hammered.
“How do you know?”
“Board reports.”
His phone loaded.
He scrolled.
Then stopped.
“B-17.”
“What is it?”
His face went white.
“Mark.”
“It’s not in Chicago.”
“I know.”
“Where is it?”
He looked at me.
“An old retreat center outside Millbrook.”
“How far?”
“Maybe forty minutes.”
“Owned by Bennett?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Mark swallowed.
“The Vance Foundation.”
My blood froze.
Wendy.
My son’s destination belonged to Wendy.
I immediately texted Evelyn:
B-17. VANCE FOUNDATION PROPERTY. OLD RETREAT CENTER OUTSIDE MILLBROOK.
The reply came seconds later.
LOCATION CONFIRMED.
UNITS MOVING.
Mark stared at the blue blanket.
Then he noticed something tucked inside the fold.
A tiny hospital identification band.
My breath stopped.
He handed it to me.
The printed name had been crossed out.
But beneath the black ink, I could still make out the original letters.
BABY BOY VANCE B.
My son.
I pressed it against my chest.
For the first time, I had something that had actually touched him.
Not a fake bracelet.
Not a forged form.
His hospital band.
Tears streamed down my face.
Mark looked away.
“You held this,” I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
“You saw him wearing it.”
“Yes.”
“What did you feel?”
His voice broke.
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me.”
“I was terrified.”
“Of him?”
“Of everything.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He looked at me.
“I thought if I stopped the plan, Mom would destroy me.”
I stared at him.
“How?”
Mark swallowed.
“Financially. Publicly. Everything.”
“She controls your money.”
“More than you know.”
“So you traded your son for your inheritance.”
The words landed hard.
Mark closed his eyes.
When he opened them, he didn’t argue.
And somehow that was worse.
We continued down the corridor.
At the far end, a metal door opened.
Rachel appeared.
“Hailey!”
She ran toward me.
Behind her were Evelyn and two federal agents.
Relief nearly dropped me to my knees.
Rachel hugged me carefully.
Then looked at Mark.
Her face changed.
“Don’t.”
I grabbed her arm.
“Not now.”
Evelyn approached Mark.
“Mark Vance?”
He nodded.
“You need to come with us.”
“I’ll cooperate.”
“I hope so.”
I handed Evelyn the hospital band.
“B-17.”
She examined it.
“We have teams heading there now.”
“How long?”
“They’re moving as fast as they can.”
“Can we go?”
“No.”
“That’s my baby.”
“I know.”
“Then I’m going.”
Evelyn looked at my hospital gown.
My bare feet.
The IV tape still stuck to my arm.
“You just had emergency surgery.”
“I don’t care.”
“Hailey.”
“I am not waiting in another room while strangers decide what happens to my son.”
Rachel looked at Evelyn.
“She’s going.”
Evelyn exhaled.
Then nodded.
“Fine.”
Mark stepped forward.
“I’m going too.”
Rachel laughed bitterly.
“No.”
“I can help.”
“You’ve helped enough.”
Evelyn raised a hand.
“He may know the property.”
Mark nodded.
“I’ve been there.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“Layout?”
“Mostly.”
“Then you’re coming with agents.”
We took the service elevator down.
For the first time since this nightmare began, Mark and I stood beside each other without pretending to be husband and wife.
He was simply a witness.
Maybe a suspect.
Maybe both.
Outside, several dark vehicles waited near the service entrance.
I climbed into one beside Rachel.
Martin slept against my chest.
Evelyn sat across from me.
Mark was placed in another vehicle.
As we pulled away, I looked back at the hospital.
The building where I had entered as a mother expecting two babies.
The building where someone decided I would leave with one.
“How much evidence do you have?” I asked.
Evelyn looked at me.
“Enough to open several investigations.”
“Into Wendy?”
“Into everyone connected to the transfer.”
“How many people?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“How many children?”
Her silence answered me.
“More than mine?”
“Possibly.”
Rachel squeezed my hand.
I looked down at Martin.
“What happens after we find him?”
Evelyn’s voice softened.
“We verify his identity.”
“He’s my son.”
“I know.”
“Then he comes with me.”
“Assuming he’s medically stable, yes.”
That was the first hopeful sentence I’d heard all night.
The drive felt endless.
Every traffic light was an insult.
Every slow car felt unbearable.
I stared through the window.
At 1:14 a.m., Evelyn’s phone rang.
She answered.
“Carter.”
Pause.
Her expression sharpened.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Understood.”
She hung up.
“What?”
“Units reached B-17.”
My heart stopped.
“And?”
“They found Wendy’s vehicle.”
“Where’s my son?”
“They’re entering now.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Minutes passed.
Five.
Seven.
Nine.
Nobody spoke.
Then the phone rang again.
Evelyn answered.
I watched her face.
“Yes.”
Pause.
“Repeat that.”
Another pause.
Her eyes moved toward me.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
She hung up.
“Tell me.”
“They found an infant.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“Alive?”
“Alive.”
I broke.
A sound came out of me that I didn’t recognize.
Half sob.
Half laugh.
Rachel wrapped both arms around me.
“Is it him?”
I asked.
“They’re checking the band and medical information.”
“But is it him?”
“They believe so.”
I pressed my forehead against Martin’s.
“Your brother.”
I cried.
“We found your brother.”
But Evelyn wasn’t smiling.
I noticed immediately.
“What?”
She looked at me.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Hailey…”
“Tell me.”
“The baby wasn’t alone.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who was with him?”
“Another infant.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“They found two babies.”
Silence.
Rachel slowly released me.
“Two?”
Evelyn nodded.
“One appears to match your son’s age.”
“And the other?”
“Older. Maybe three months.”
My blood went cold.
Northbridge.
The agency that supposedly closed twelve years ago.
Rumors that it never really stopped.
“What does this mean?”
Evelyn looked out the window.
“It means your son may not be the first child moved through B-17.”
My stomach twisted.
Then her phone buzzed with a photograph from the scene.
She studied it.
Her face changed again.
“What now?”
She turned the screen toward me.
It showed a wall inside the retreat center.
Pinned across it were dozens of Polaroid photographs.
Babies.
Toddlers.
Young children.
Each photo had a date.
A number.
And initials.
Some dated back more than a decade.
Rachel whispered, “Oh my God.”
I couldn’t speak.
Then I noticed one photograph near the center.
A newborn.
The date beneath it:
APRIL 18, 1999.
The initials:
M.V.
My eyes slowly lifted to Evelyn.
“That’s Mark’s birthday.”
She stared at me.
“I know.”
Suddenly every strange piece fell into a different shape.
Wendy.
Charles Bennett.
The old agency.
The photograph of Wendy holding a newborn at Belmont Estate.
Mark born in April 1999.
The Vance Foundation.
The hidden transfer network.
I whispered:
“Mark wasn’t born into this family.”
Rachel looked at me.
“What?”
I stared at the photograph.
“Mark was one of the babies.”
The vehicle stopped.
Ahead of us, flashing emergency lights surrounded a large dark building behind iron fencing.
B-17.
My son was inside.
But before I could open the door, Evelyn received one more message.
She read it.
Then looked at me with an expression I will never forget.
“They confirmed the newborn’s hospital identification.”
My chest stopped moving.
“Is it him?”
Evelyn nodded.
“Yes.”
I started crying.
But she raised one hand.
“Hailey, there’s something you need to know before you go inside.”
“What?”
“They found Wendy.”
“Where?”
“Inside the property.”
“Then arrest her.”
Evelyn didn’t answer.
“What is it?”
“Wendy says she will cooperate.”
“Good.”
“But only if she speaks to you first.”
“I don’t care what she wants.”
“Hailey…”
“What?”
Evelyn looked at the photograph dated April 18, 1999.
Then back at me.
“She says Mark’s birth is the reason your twins were chosen.”
My blood went cold.
“And she says if you want to understand why she took your son…”
Evelyn paused.
“…you need to ask her who Mark’s real mother is.”….
