Chapter 9: The Bloodline Secret
I didn't know what Daniel meant by the older one.
But the way he said it made my stomach turn.
He wasn't trying to bring us home.
He was negotiating.
Claire pressed her hand against her mouth to stop herself from crying.
I held my finger to my lips.
Outside, Daniel's footsteps moved toward the kitchen.
A cupboard opened.
Something fell.
Then he called my name.
“Nia, I know you're frightened.””
I closed my eyes.
“You don't have to be.””
Claire shook her head violently.
Daniel continued.
“Your mother made mistakes. Terrible mistakes. But I can explain everything.””
I looked at my sister.
She mouthed:
Don't listen.
Then something struck the laundry-room door.
Once.
Twice.
“Open up, sweetheart.””
I backed away.
Daniel laughed softly.
“You've always been stubborn.””
I grabbed a heavy iron from the shelf.
Claire found a bottle of detergent.
It wasn't much.
But it was something.
The door handle turned.
Then a phone rang outside.
Daniel stopped.
He answered.
“What?””
A man's voice came through.
Daniel listened.
Then his face appeared in the narrow gap beneath the door.
He was looking down the hallway.
“I'm busy.””
Another pause.
“What do you mean, the police are coming?””
My heart jumped.
Daniel swore.
“Fine. Five minutes.””
He ended the call.
Then he stepped away from the door.
I heard the front entrance open.
And close.
We waited.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Then Claire whispered:
“Don't move.””
A minute later, someone knocked on the back window.
Two knocks.
A pause.
One knock.
I looked at Claire.
She began crying.
“That's Marcus.””
I opened the laundry-room door and hurried toward the kitchen.
Marcus stood outside.
His hair was wet from the rain.
His face was thinner than I remembered, with a pale scar running from his temple toward his jaw.
But his eyes were the same.
For three years, I had imagined what it would feel like to see him again.
I had imagined anger.
Questions.
Maybe even a slap.
Instead, I ran into his arms.
He caught me.
And for several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I pulled away and hit his chest.
“Three years!””
He nodded.
“I know.””
“You let me think you were dead!””
“I know.””
“I buried you in my mind!””
His eyes filled.
“I'm sorry.””
I wanted to hit him again.
Instead, I held his face.
“Don't ever disappear on me again.””
He covered my hands with his.
“I won't.””
Claire stood behind me.
Marcus looked at her.
“Claire.””
She stared at him.
“You knew?””
“I knew your mother had found you. I didn't know where Daniel had moved you.””
“Why didn't you help?””
Marcus looked down.
“Because I was trying to stay alive long enough to get evidence.””
Claire's expression hardened.
“So you left us.””
Marcus didn't defend himself.
“Yes.””
The honesty seemed to surprise her.
Then he said:
“I was wrong.””
Claire looked away.
I touched her shoulder.
“We don't have time to fight.””
Marcus nodded.
“Daniel has gone to the wrong house. We need to leave.””
“Where?””
“Somewhere he can't reach us.””
He looked at the red folder in my hand.
“Did you find the documents?””
I nodded.
“Some of them.””
“Then we need to talk.””
An hour later, we were in a small motel room outside the city.
Peter had arranged it.
Marcus locked the door and placed a laptop on the table.
Claire sat on the bed.
I stood by the window.
I still couldn't believe any of it.
Daniel had been my father.
My sister had been hidden for decades.
My mother had died trying to protect us.
And Marcus had been alive the entire time.
I turned toward him.
“Tell me about the baby.””
Marcus looked at me.
“What baby?””
“Claire said Mom had another daughter before us. One who died shortly after birth.””
His expression changed.
“Where did you hear that?””
“From Claire.””
He glanced at my sister.
Claire nodded.
“Mom told me.””
Marcus slowly sat down.
“Your mother had three children.””
I felt my knees weaken.
“Three?””
“Yes.””
“Who was the third?””
He opened his laptop.
A document appeared.
It was a hospital admission record.
The patient's name was Margaret Bennett.
The date was thirty-two years earlier.
Below it was a section titled:
*DELIVERY INFORMATION.*
Three children were listed.
One female infant.
One male infant.
One female infant.
I stared.
“Triplets?””
Marcus nodded.
“Your mother gave birth to three babies.””
I looked at Claire.
Then back at him.
“Why did she tell me I was an only child?””
“Because one baby was declared stillborn. Another was taken into protective custody after the birth.””
I felt sick.
“Which one was I?””
Marcus turned the screen toward me.
The records showed three names.
Claire Bennett.
Nia Bennett.
And a third name.
*Ethan Bennett.*
A boy.
My brother.
I stared at the screen.
“Where is he?””
Marcus leaned back.
“We don't know.””
Claire shook her head.
“Mom never mentioned a brother.””
“She may not have known he survived,” Marcus replied.
I looked at the document again.
There was a note beneath Ethan's name.
*Transferred to private neonatal care. Authorization: Daniel Whitmore.*
My blood turned cold.
“Daniel took him?””
Marcus nodded.
“Your mother discovered the transfer years later. She believed Ethan had been adopted by another family.””
“Why would Daniel do that?””
Marcus opened another file.
It contained financial records.
Payments made by a company connected to Daniel's father.
Monthly transfers.
For twenty-seven years.
The recipient was a trust registered under a different name.
I read it twice.
Then I noticed the beneficiary.
*Ethan Whitmore.*
My brother had been raised under Daniel's surname.
I covered my mouth.
“Is he alive?””
Marcus hesitated.
“According to the most recent records, yes.””
“Where?””
He enlarged the final page.
A photograph appeared.
A man stood outside a modern office building.
He looked about thirty.
Dark hair.
Broad shoulders.
A familiar crease between his eyebrows.
I looked at Claire.
She whispered:
“He looks like Mom.””
I couldn't take my eyes off him.
“What's his name now?””
Marcus answered quietly.
“Ethan Whitmore.””
I looked at the photograph again.
Then something else caught my attention.
The man standing beside Ethan.
An older man in a grey suit.
Daniel.
My hands began to shake.
“That's impossible.””
Marcus leaned forward.
“What's wrong?””
I pointed at the image.
“Look at the date.””
It had been taken two weeks earlier.
Daniel hadn't just known where Ethan was.
He had been meeting him.
I stared at Marcus.
“Does Ethan know who Daniel really is?””
Marcus didn't answer.
Instead, he opened another document.
A scanned email.
The sender was Ethan Whitmore.
The recipient was Daniel.
There was one sentence in the message.
*I've found the woman you told me was responsible for my mother's death.*
I felt the room spin.
Below it was an attachment.
A photograph of me.
Taken outside my apartment.
And beneath the photograph, Ethan had written:
*I'll deal with Nia myself.*
Claire grabbed my hand.
“Who is he talking about?””
I couldn't answer.
Marcus closed the laptop.
His face had gone pale.
Then he whispered:
“Your brother thinks you're the reason your mother died.””
A new message appeared on my phone.
Unknown number.
*Hello, sister.*
Then another.
*We need to talk. Alone.*
I looked at the screen.
For the first time since Marcus returned from the dead, I understood something terrifying.
Daniel might have been the monster who destroyed our family.
May you like
But he had spent thirty years making sure the rest of us would destroy each other.
And my brother was already coming for me.
