Chapter 4 - The Baby Was Never The Real TargetArthur tore through the mansion.
“Search every room!”
Security officers rushed through the halls.
The gates were locked.
Cameras were being reviewed.
Eli was conscious again.
He grabbed Arthur's sleeve.
“They took her.”
“I know.”
“I'm sorry.”
Arthur knelt.
“This isn't your fault.”
Eli's eyes filled with tears.
“I should have protected her.”
“You did.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“I saw the man before.”
“What man?”
“The one who took Grace.”
Arthur froze.
“Who?”
Eli looked terrified.
“He was at the clinic.”
“Victor?”
Eli shook his head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
The boy whispered:
“Your son.”
Arthur's face went pale.
“My son is dead.”
Eli shook his head.
“He isn't.”
The original research was stored in a secure archive.
Arthur had forgotten about it.
But now he remembered.
Twenty-two years ago, Eleanor had begged him to stop funding the project.
He refused.
He thought the research could change medicine.
He didn't know someone had begun experimenting on pregnant women.
Lydia had discovered it.
She had tried to expose them.
Then she disappeared.
Arthur had believed she left town.
But she had been hiding.
And Grace had been born years later.
Arthur opened the research files.
There was a list of participants.
One name stood out.
Lydia Carter.
Underneath:
Pregnancy — experimental exposure confirmed.
Then:
Child — Grace Carter.
Arthur stared.
Another line:
Biological father — unidentified Hale male.
He stopped.
A Hale male.
Not necessarily him.
His son.
The son he had been told died.
Arthur's hands shook.
He called his private investigator.
“Find every child connected to my family.”
The investigator paused.
“Sir…”
“Now.”
Hours later, the investigator returned.
“We found someone.”
Arthur looked up.
“Who?”
A photograph appeared on the screen.
A man in his early thirties.
Dark hair.
Arthur's eyes.
The same jaw.
The same expression.
Arthur couldn't speak.
The investigator said:
“His name is Ethan Hale.”
Arthur stared.
“Where is he?”
“Living under another name.”
“Why?”
“He was adopted.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
His son had survived.
All these years…
he had been alive.
Then his phone rang.
A distorted voice spoke.
“You found him.”
Arthur stood.
“Where is Grace?”
“Safe.”
“Bring her back.”
“You'll get her.”
“When?”
“After you meet your son.”
Arthur froze.
“Where?”
“Tomorrow.”
The call ended.
Arthur looked at the photograph.
His son.
A child he had believed was dead.
And suddenly everything connected.
The mysterious woman.
Grace.
Lydia.
Eleanor.
The research.
The accident.
His paralysis.
His son.
Someone had been manipulating his life for decades.
And Arthur finally understood why.
It wasn't about healing his legs.
It wasn't about money.
It was about the Hale family bloodline.
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Grace wasn't the key.
She was the proof.
