Chapter 2 - THE FILE THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST
I ran.
Bare feet slapped against cold hospital tile.
Grace screamed against my chest.
Behind me, something crashed.
A man shouted.
Then another sound followed.
A gunshot.
I nearly stopped.
Luka had stayed behind.
A stranger.
A terrifying stranger.
A man who had somehow known my parents.
And somehow I was terrified that he had just died protecting my daughter.
“Keep moving!”
His voice thundered behind me.
Relief hit so hard my knees almost buckled.
I pushed through the maternity doors.
A nurse screamed when she saw me.
“Ma'am, you can't—”
“Emergency stairs!”
She pointed.
I ran.
Seconds later, Luka caught up.
Blood covered his knuckles.
“Is that yours?”
“No.”
I didn't ask whose.
We reached the parking garage.
A black SUV waited beside the elevator.
“Get in.”
“You expect me to get into a stranger's car?”
He opened the passenger door.
“Emma, armed men just walked into a maternity ward looking for your daughter.”
My name stopped me.
“I never told you my first name.”
“I told you.”
“I know who you are.”
“Get in.”
I did.
Ten minutes later, the hospital disappeared behind us.
Luka drove without speaking.
Grace finally stopped crying.
I looked at her tiny face.
Then at Luka.
“Start talking.”
He kept his eyes on the road.
“M-17 was a genetic research program.”
“What kind?”
“Experimental regenerative medicine.”
“That means nothing to me.”
“It means your mother was part of a medical trial.”
My stomach dropped.
“She was sick?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because she worked there.”
That didn't make sense.
My mother had supposedly been an elementary school teacher.
“At Moretti Biomedical?”
“Yes.”
“She was a geneticist.”
I stared through the windshield.
Everything I knew about my childhood was suddenly shifting beneath me.
“Why would my father lie?”
“To keep you alive.”
Luka turned onto an empty road.
“Seventeen women participated in the original study.”
“M-17?”
“Maternity Seventeen.”
My arms tightened around Grace.
“Sixteen pregnancies failed.”
I didn't want to hear the next sentence.
“The seventeenth didn't.”
Luka looked at me.
“You were number seventeen.”
The air disappeared from my lungs.
“No.”
“You were the only successful birth.”
“No.”
“Emma—”
“Stop saying my name like you know me.”
He went silent.
We reached an old brick house surrounded by trees.
Luka pulled into the garage.
Inside, he locked three separate doors.
“This belonged to your father.”
I stared at him.
“My father owned this?”
“He used it when he needed to disappear.”
Luka moved toward a bookshelf.
He pulled one book.
Something clicked.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside was a metal box.
Stamped across the front were three characters.
M-17.
My heart began pounding.
Luka didn't open it.
Instead, he handed me the key.
“Your father wanted you to decide.”
“Decide what?”
“Whether you wanted the truth.”
I inserted the key.
The box opened.
Inside were medical files.
Photographs.
Two flash drives.
And an envelope.
My name was written across the front.
EMMA.
I recognized the handwriting immediately.
My father's.
I opened it.
Emma.
If you are reading this, then they found you.
My hands trembled.
Everything I told you about your birth was meant to protect you.
Your mother and I believed M-17 could save children born with fatal genetic diseases.
We were wrong about the people funding it.
I looked at Luka.
“Who funded it?”
He answered without hesitation.
“The Calloway Foundation.”
I stopped breathing.
Calloway.
Derek's family.
My husband's family.
I continued reading.
If you ever become pregnant, they may return.
Your child could carry something they spent decades trying to reproduce.
Trust Luka Moretti.
He knows what happened.
Then came the sentence that destroyed what remained of my old life.
And Emma, if you married into the Calloway family, understand this clearly.
It was not an accident.
I dropped the letter.
“No.”
Luka said nothing.
“Derek met me in college.”
“I know.”
“He didn't know who my parents were.”
“Yes, he did.”
“No.”
I stood.
“He loved me.”
Luka's expression hardened.
“Then ask yourself why three hundred thousand dollars appeared in his account the day Grace was born.”
My phone suddenly vibrated.
Derek.
I stared at his name.
Luka reached for the phone.
I pulled away.
“No.”
“Don't answer.”
I did.
“Emma?”
Derek sounded terrified.
Not angry.
Terrified.
“Where are you?”
“You left me.”
“Listen to me.”
“You walked out with Brittany.”
“That wasn't what you think.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Really?”
“Where is the baby?”
Luka's eyes narrowed.
I looked down at Grace.
“Why?”
Silence.
Then Derek whispered.
“Because Grace isn't safe with Luka Moretti.”
My heart stopped.
“How do you know I'm with Luka?”
Another silence.
Then Derek said five words.
May you like
“Because he's the reason you're alive.”
The call disconnected.
