Chapter 8: The Voice From the Grave
I couldn't press the answer button.
I stared at the screen.
The name remained there, glowing against the dark background.
MOM.
My mother had been dead for ten years.
I had attended her funeral.
I remembered the white flowers, the priest's trembling voice, and my father standing beside me with one hand on my shoulder.
I remembered crying so hard that Sophie had held my hand throughout the service.
And now my phone was ringing with her name.
“Marcus,” Daniel whispered.
“Don't answer that.””
I looked at him.
“Why?””
“Because someone may be using an old contact.””
The call ended.
A second later, a text arrived.
*My son, if you're reading this, you finally know enough to ask the right questions.*
My fingers went numb.
Another message followed.
*Your mother is alive.*
I slowly lowered the phone.
Eleanor was crying.
Daniel looked as though he had seen a ghost.
Officer Harris stepped closer.
“Mr. Bennett, who sent that?””
I couldn't speak.
Then another message appeared.
*Come to Willow Lane. Sophie has your son. I have the daughter.*
I looked at Eleanor.
“Who is she?””
My wife shook her head.
“I don't know.””
“Stop lying!””
She grabbed my arm.
“Marcus, I swear I don't know where your mother is.””
I pulled away.
“But you knew about the third child.””
“Yes.””
“And you knew Sophie was alive.””
“Yes.””
“Then why wouldn't you tell me?””
“Because Richard threatened us.””
I stared at her.
“Richard threatened you?””
“He said if we told you anything, he would expose what happened at the clinic.””
“What happened?””
Eleanor looked toward the officers.
“I can't.””
I stepped closer.
“Try me.””
She swallowed.
“Your father and Richard were involved in a financial arrangement involving frozen embryos. They wanted an heir who could legally connect the family trust to the next generation.””
“That doesn't explain why my mother faked her death.””
“She didn't fake it.””
The words stopped me.
Eleanor continued.
“Your mother was declared dead after a medical emergency. But the death certificate was issued through a private arrangement. Richard handled the paperwork.””
I shook my head.
“Why?””
“Because she discovered what your father was doing.””
I felt the room spinning.
“What was he doing?””
Eleanor looked down.
“He was using Sophie's pregnancy to create a child who would become the legal heir to the business.””
I looked at the phone.
My mother's message remained on the screen.
Then I remembered something.
When I was seventeen, my mother had taken me aside one evening and told me never to trust a person who used family as an excuse to control you.
At the time, I thought she was talking about my father.
Maybe she had been warning me about all of them.
Officer Bennett approached.
“Mr. Bennett, we're receiving information that a second vehicle has been seen near Willow Lane.””
I looked at him.
“Can we go there?””
“We'll arrange an escort.””
I turned toward Daniel.
“Bring the file.””
He nodded.
Before we left, I looked at Nia.
She was sitting beside Olivia, carefully adjusting the baby's blanket.
“Nia, I need you to come with us.””
She shook her head.
“Sir, I don't think I should.””
“Why?””
She looked at Eleanor.
“Because I know who took Oliver.””
The room went silent.
I stepped toward her.
“What?””
Nia's hands began trembling.
“I saw him leave.””
“Who?””
“Mr. Adrian.””
I looked toward the hallway.
“Why didn't you say that earlier?””
“I was afraid.””
“Did you see where he went?””
She nodded.
“He went through the back door. But he wasn't alone.””
“Who was with him?””
Nia swallowed.
“Mrs. Eleanor.””
I turned toward my wife.
Eleanor shook her head.
“No. That's not true.””
Nia continued.
“She gave him a baby carrier. Then she told him to take the little boy to the car.””
My chest tightened.
“You handed my son to Adrian?””
Eleanor started crying.
“I thought he was taking him somewhere safe!””
“You watched him leave?””
“He told me Richard was arranging protection!””
I felt sick.
Officer Bennett immediately moved toward Eleanor.
“Ma'am, you're coming with us.””
But she suddenly grabbed my sleeve.
“Marcus, listen. I didn't know what Richard intended to do with Oliver.””
I pulled away.
“You knew enough to hand him over.””
She looked at me with desperation.
“I was trying to protect you.””
“From what?””
She whispered:
“From the truth about your mother.””
I stared at her.
Then my phone rang again.
I answered.
“Hello?””
A woman's voice spoke.
“Marcus?””
My knees nearly buckled.
It was the voice I had heard every night in childhood.
The voice that used to sing to me when I was sick.
“Mom?””
A long silence followed.
Then she said, “I know you have questions.””
I closed my eyes.
“Are you really alive?””
“Yes.””
“Where have you been?””
“Protecting you.””
“From whom?””
“Your father.””
My breath caught.
“My father is dead.””
“Your father died four years ago, Marcus. But the people who worked for him are still very much alive.””
I looked at Daniel.
He was listening carefully.
My mother continued.
“Your sister has Oliver. I have the little girl. And Richard is looking for both children.””
“Why?””
“Because the third embryo was never transferred by accident.””
I gripped the phone.
“What does that mean?””
“It means the third child was born to someone else.””
“Who?””
My mother hesitated.
Then she spoke slowly.
“Your father arranged for another woman to carry that baby.””
“Who was she?””
A quiet breath.
“Your wife.””
I looked at Eleanor.
She had stopped crying.
Her face was completely white.
“What?””
My mother continued.
“Eleanor gave birth to a daughter seven years ago. Richard took the child from the hospital and told her the baby had died.””
I stared at my wife.
She covered her mouth.
My mother whispered:
“Marcus, the little girl I've been raising is Eleanor's daughter.””
Then the call ended.
For a moment, the world seemed to stop.
Eleanor sank into a chair.
“My daughter,” she whispered.
I looked at her.
“You had a child?””
She began shaking her head.
“They told me she died.””
“And you never questioned it?””
“I did! I begged them to show me the body. Richard said there had been complications.””
I stared at her.
“Seven years, Eleanor.””
She buried her face in her hands.
“I thought she was dead.””
My phone vibrated.
A photograph arrived.
It showed a little girl, around seven years old, standing in front of a house.
She had Eleanor's dark eyes.
And my mother's familiar smile.
Underneath the photograph was a message.
*Her name is Lily. She has been asking about her mother.*
May you like
Then another message appeared.
*But Richard knows where we are now.*
