Chapter 8: The Child Everyone Was Trying To Claim
The document lay on the hospital floor between us.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
It was strange how one piece of paper could make a room full of people forget how to breathe.
I stared at the name.
*Emily Morgan.*
My mother.
Dead for six years before Noah was born.
My hands shook as I picked up the phone.
“No.””
The word came out quietly.
Then louder.
“No.””
Ethan watched me carefully.
“Alexa…”
“This is fake.””
My voice cracked.
“It has to be fake.””
Ethan didn’t answer.
That hurt more than anything.
Because Ethan always argued.
Even when he was wrong.
Even when he was scared.
But now he looked like someone who had been carrying a secret too heavy for too long.
“You knew.””
His eyes dropped.
“I suspected.””
“You suspected my mother was involved?””
“No.””
“Then what?””
He swallowed.
“I suspected your father changed your memories.””
I stared at him.
“My memories?””
“Yes.””
I laughed.
A cold, empty sound.
“Everyone keeps saying that.””
Because it was true.
Everyone kept telling me I didn’t remember.
But nobody told me why.
Nobody trusted me enough to let me know my own life.
I looked at the document again.
The hospital stamp.
The date.
The signatures.
Everything looked real.
Too real.
“Explain this.””
Ethan looked at the paper.
“After Noah was born, your father took control of the records.””
“Why?””
“Because something happened during the delivery.””
“What?””
He hesitated.
Then said:
“The baby they handed you wasn’t supposed to be yours.””
My heart stopped.
I stared at him.
“What?””
“Alexa…”
“No.””
I shook my head.
“No, don’t do this.””
“I’m telling you what I found.””
“You’re telling me my entire life is a mistake?””
“No.””
“Then explain!””
My voice echoed through the hospital room.
Ethan closed his eyes.
“The hospital had two emergency deliveries that night.””
I froze.
“Two?””
“Yes.””
“Where?””
“Same floor.””
My breathing became shallow.
“One was yours.””
He looked at the document.
“And one was your mother’s.””
I felt sick.
“That’s impossible.””
“My mother was dead.””
“I know.””
“Then stop talking like she was there.””
Ethan looked at me.
“She wasn’t.””
Silence.
Then:
“But someone used her name.””
The room felt colder.
I looked at the document again.
The impossible suddenly felt possible.
“What happened?””
Ethan took a deep breath.
“Your father believed Noah was connected to your mother’s family.””
“What does that mean?””
“I don’t know everything.””
“You’re lying.””
“I’m not.””
“You always say that.””
Pain crossed his face.
“You’re right.””
That admission stopped me.
Ethan looked down.
“I lied before.””
The honesty was worse.
“But this time, I’m telling you the truth.””
I looked away.
“Continue.””
He nodded.
“Your father had been investigating your mother’s death.””
I frowned.
“What?””
“He believed her death wasn’t an accident.””
My heart tightened.
“My mother died in a car crash.””
“That’s what everyone believed.””
I felt a chill.
“What did my father think?””
“That someone wanted her gone.””
I stared at him.
“And Noah?””
“Your father believed Noah was proof of something.””
“What?””
Ethan looked at me.
“That’s what he was trying to find out.””
My phone buzzed.
Another message.
From my father.
*You’re finally learning.*
My blood ran cold.
Ethan saw the message.
“He’s watching you.””
“How?””
“I don’t know.””
I looked at the hospital window.
For the first time, I wondered if I had ever really been alone.
Or if someone had always been standing nearby.
Watching.
Waiting.
When I returned home, the police had cleared the house.
But it didn’t feel like home anymore.
Every room felt like a place where secrets had been stored.
The family photos on the wall looked different.
Me.
Pascal.
Noah.
A perfect picture.
A perfect lie.
Pascal was standing in the living room.
He looked exhausted.
“Where is Ethan?””
“At the hospital.””
“Did he tell you?””
I stopped.
That question was too calm.
“What?””
Pascal looked at me.
“Did he tell you about your mother?””
My stomach dropped.
“You knew.””
His face changed.
Just slightly.
But enough.
“Pascal.””
“I was trying to find the right time.””
I laughed.
“You all love that excuse.””
He looked hurt.
But I didn’t care anymore.
“The right time?””
I stepped closer.
“Was there ever a right time to tell me my dead mother’s name was on my son’s birth records?””
“No.””
“Was there a right time to tell me you knew Ethan before me?””
“No.””
“Was there a right time to tell me you knew about the DNA test?””
His silence was the answer.
I turned away.
“Why?””
Pascal’s voice softened.
“Because I loved you.””
I stopped.
He continued.
“I know you don’t believe that right now.””
“No.””
“Fair.””
He took a breath.
“But it was true.””
I looked at him.
“Love doesn’t look like this.””
His eyes filled.
“I know.””
For the first time, Pascal didn’t defend himself.
That made it worse.
“Tell me the truth.””
He nodded.
“I met your father before I met you.””
I closed my eyes.
“Why?””
“He wanted me to investigate Ethan.””
“Investigate him?””
“Yes.””
“Why you?””
“Because your father knew I had experience with financial crimes.””
I stared.
“You never told me that.””
“I was ashamed.””
“Of what?””
“That my past was the reason your father trusted me.””
I shook my head.
“So what was I?””
His face fell.
“What?””
“Was I just a mission?””
“No.””
“Was marrying me part of the plan?””
“No.””
“Then when did the plan end?””
Pascal looked at me.
“I don’t know.””
That answer hurt.
Because it was honest.
“When did you start loving me?””
He looked down.
Then whispered:
“When you stopped needing me.””
I didn’t understand.
“What?””
“The first time I saw you, you were broken.””
He paused.
“But the more I knew you, the more I realized you weren’t someone who needed saving.””
His voice cracked.
“You were the person saving everyone else.””
I looked away.
For one second.
Only one.
I wanted to believe him.
Then I remembered Noah.
My missing son.
My stolen years.
My father.
My mother.
The truth was too big for forgiveness.
“Where is Noah?””
Pascal’s expression changed.
“I don’t know.””
“Then find out.””
“I’m trying.””
“No.””
I stepped closer.
“You’re going to help me.””
He nodded.
“I will.””
Before I could answer, his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
And froze.
“What?””
He didn’t respond.
“Pascal?””
Slowly, he turned the phone toward me.
A video had been sent.
A live video.
We could see Noah.
Sitting in a room.
He looked scared.
But alive.
I covered my mouth.
“Oh my God.””
Then a figure walked behind him.
My father.
Thomas Morgan.
He looked directly into the camera.
Then spoke.
“Alexa.””
I moved closer.
My entire body shaking.
My father smiled.
Not warmly.
Like someone who had finally won.
“I know you have questions.””
I whispered:
“Bring my son home.””
He ignored me.
Instead, he looked at Pascal.
And said:
“You should have told her the truth years ago.””
Pascal went pale.
My father continued.
“Because now she deserves to know why you were never Noah’s father.””
The room went silent.
I looked at Pascal.
“What?””
My father smiled.
“The DNA test was real.””
I couldn’t breathe.
“But everyone focused on Ethan.””
He stepped closer to the camera.
“Nobody asked about Pascal.””
My heart stopped.
My father’s final words before the video cut out were:
“Tell her, Pascal.””
The screen went black.
May you like
Then one final message appeared.
*The man you married is not who you think he is.*
