Chapter 8 - The First Missing ChildRyan moved Sarah and Noah into a hotel under another name.
Not one owned by the Whitaker family.
Not one Diane knew.
For the first time in eleven years, Sarah refused to sleep in the mansion.
Ryan stayed in a separate room.
He didn’t argue.
The slap sat between them.
So did every lie.
At 2:14 a.m., Noah woke crying.
Sarah held him.
He pointed toward the door.
“No one is coming in.”
He shook his head.
Then pointed at the pet-camera memory card on the table.
Sarah frowned.
“You want the video?”
He nodded.
She opened the laptop.
Not the frightening parts.
She clicked the second clip.
Charles holding him.
Noah leaned toward the screen.
“Mm.”
“You remember Grandpa?”
Noah nodded.
He pointed at Charles’s hand.
Sarah zoomed in.
A ring.
Large.
Silver.
With a black stone.
Noah touched the screen.
Then pointed toward his own pocket.
Sarah frowned.
“What?”
He reached inside.
Pulled out a tiny plastic toy.
Then shook his head in frustration.
Not that.
He pointed again at Charles’s hand.
Then toward the hotel safe.
A lock.
Sarah understood.
“Something Grandpa locked?”
Noah nodded excitedly.
Sarah’s heart jumped.
“Where?”
He pointed downward.
Floor.
Then made a digging motion.
Sarah stared.
“The mansion?”
Noah nodded.
Charles had hidden something.
And somehow a three-year-old Noah had seen it.
The next morning, Sarah told Ryan.
He looked exhausted.
“Where would Dad hide something underground?”
“The basement?”
“No. Noah hates the basement.”
“Garden?”
Ryan thought.
Then his face changed.
“The dog run.”
Sarah stared.
The mansion’s old dog-feeding area connected to a fenced exercise yard.
Charles had built it years earlier.
Noah often played there when he was a toddler.
They returned with a private security investigator Ryan trusted from outside the company.
Diane was gone.
Her bedroom empty.
Phone off.
Ryan looked worried.
Sarah did not.
“She ran.”
“Or Vale got to her.”
Sarah glanced at him.
“You’re still protecting her in your head.”
He looked away.
They searched the dog run.
Noah led them.
Not by words.
By memory.
He walked to the far corner.
Touched a decorative stone.
Then stepped back.
The investigator lifted it.
Underneath:
A metal lockbox.
Ryan stared.
“Dad.”
Inside were documents.
A flash drive.
And a photograph.
Two newborn babies.
Side by side.
Sarah dropped to her knees.
Both boys had tiny blue caps.
Both had her nose.
One wristband:
BABY A — WHITAKER.
The other:
BABY B — WHITAKER.
Sarah touched the image.
“My babies.”
Ryan knelt beside her.
On the back, Charles had written:
Both alive. Vale lied.
Sarah began crying.
Ryan covered his mouth.
The flash drive contained a video.
Charles appeared.
Alive.
Older.
The same gray hair as the pet-camera footage.
“If Sarah is watching this, then Diane failed to destroy everything.”
Ryan whispered, “Dad…”
Charles looked into the camera.
“You had two sons.”
Sarah gripped Ryan’s hand without realizing it.
“Baby B remained with you.”
“Noah,” Sarah whispered.
“Baby A was removed from St. Matthew’s six hours after birth.”
Her breath stopped.
“I spent three years trying to find him.”
Ryan stared.
Charles continued.
“Vale sold the placement.”
Sarah felt sick.
Sold.
Her child.
“The boy was transferred through a private adoption network connected to the fertility program.”
Ryan whispered, “Oh God.”
“I found six possible families.”
Charles held up a folder.
“One is almost certainly your son.”
Sarah leaned forward.
“Who?”
The video glitched.
Then resumed.
“The family changed his name.”
Charles looked exhausted.
“I could not approach them without alerting Vale.”
Ryan said, “Come on, Dad.”
Charles continued.
“But Sarah deserves the truth.”
He looked straight at the camera.
“So does Ryan.”
Pause.
“Noah is not Ryan’s biological son.”
Ryan closed his eyes.
“But Baby A is.”
Silence.
Sarah turned toward Ryan.
His face crumpled.
The second baby.
Their missing son.
Was genetically Ryan’s.
Charles continued:
“The embryos were not identical.”
Sarah frowned.
Of course not.
Fraternal twins.
But—
“How could they have different fathers?”
Ryan whispered.
Heteropaternal superfecundation.
Extremely rare naturally.
But with fertility procedures?
Different fertilization sources.
Different embryos transferred together.
One created with Ryan’s sperm.
One with someone else’s.
Charles continued.
“Vale replaced one embryo.”
Sarah stared.
“He claims he did it under orders.”
“Whose?” Ryan whispered.
Charles paused.
“I believed Diane ordered it.”
Ryan looked at the screen.
“No.”
“But I was wrong.”
Sarah felt cold.
Charles leaned closer.
“The person who ordered Noah’s embryo created…”
The file skipped.
Static.
Then his next words:
“…was Ethan Cole.”
Ryan stopped breathing.
His secret half-brother.
Sarah stared.
“Ethan chose Noah?”
Charles continued:
“And he did it because he believed Sarah was the only person who could keep the child alive.”
The video ended.
Sarah looked at Ryan.
“What did Ethan know?”
Ryan slowly shook his head.
Then the private investigator called from outside.
“Mr. Whitaker.”
Ryan answered.
“We found Diane.”
Sarah stood.
“Where?”
There was a pause.
“At a bus station.”
Ryan frowned.
“Going where?”
The investigator answered:
“She had a ticket to Portland.”
Sarah’s stomach tightened.
“Why Portland?”
May you like
Another pause.
“Because Martin Vale lives there.”
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