Thomas was already moving before I finished reading the message.
“Show me.”
I turned the phone toward him.
DANIEL IS MISSING.
HIS CAR WAS FOUND EMPTY AN HOUR AGO.
MARTIN HAS HIM.
Thomas read the final line twice.
“That isn’t one of mine.”
“I know.”
“Who else has been messaging you?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said Margaret sent some.”
“She said some.”
“And Felix sent the first package.”
“Yes.”
Thomas looked toward the diner windows.
“Then either somebody else has been inside this from the beginning, or Martin wants us to think Daniel is in danger.”
“Why would Martin warn me?”
“He wouldn’t.”
“Then Daniel may really be missing.”
Thomas pulled out his phone.
He called once.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
On the third attempt, a mechanical voice told him the phone was unavailable.
Thomas swore.
“Where was the car found?”
I typed the question to the anonymous number.
No response.
Thomas opened a tracking application on his phone.
“You track Daniel too?”
“No. He gave me emergency access last year.”
“Why?”
“Because he knew Martin was watching him.”
A location appeared.
Thomas’s face tightened.
“East industrial district.”
“Where?”
He turned the screen.
An abandoned warehouse zone near the river.
One pin remained active.
“His phone?”
“His car tracker.”
“But the message said the car was found empty.”
“It may still be there.”
We left immediately.
I called Felix from the road.
He answered on the first ring.
“Nora?”
“Daniel is missing.”
Silence.
Then, “What?”
“I’m going to his car.”
“Where?”
“I’ll send you the location.”
“I’m coming.”
“No arguments?”
“Not tonight.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Then I called Caroline.
She had left Rosehaven to meet a county investigator handling Lily’s case.
When I told her, she said, “Do not touch Daniel’s car.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“I mean it.”
“Because?”
“If there’s evidence, let police document it.”
Thomas said from the passenger seat, “Tell her we already requested an officer.”
Caroline heard.
“Thomas?”
He leaned toward the phone.
“Hello, Caroline.”
Silence.
A long one.
Then her voice changed.
“You.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been sending her messages.”
“Some.”
“Where is Daniel?”
“If I knew, we wouldn’t be driving to an empty car.”
Caroline said something under her breath.
I interrupted.
“You two can have your family reunion later.”
Thomas looked at me.
Caroline said, “Send me the address.”
I did.
Daniel’s car sat beneath a broken streetlamp beside a chain-link fence.
Driver’s door unlocked.
No visible damage.
One police cruiser had arrived before us.
The officer asked us to stay back.
Felix pulled in several minutes later.
He walked toward me without touching me.
Good.
Thomas and Felix looked at each other.
Felix frowned.
“David Mercer.”
“Thomas Blake.”
Felix went still.
“You’re Grandmother’s son.”
“My mother’s firstborn, yes.”
Felix stared at him.
“Why have I never seen you?”
“Because your grandfather was thorough.”
The officer called us over after photographing the exterior.
Daniel’s wallet remained in the center console.
Laptop gone.
Phone gone.
A smear of blood marked the inside of the passenger door.
Small.
Not enough to prove serious injury.
Enough to make Thomas pale.
Felix asked, “Is it his?”
“Lab will decide.”
On the rear floorboard, police found a torn envelope.
Inside was half of a document.
A certified birth record.
Daniel Mercer.
Mother: Alice Margaret Blake.
Father—
The page had been torn directly through the final line.
Thomas closed his eyes.
“He had it.”
“The original?” I asked.
“Certified copy.”
“Who knew?”
“He told me yesterday.”
“Martin?”
“Daniel believed Martin knew.”
Felix looked at Thomas.
“Who is Daniel’s father?”
Thomas said nothing.
“Do you know?”
“No.”
“Margaret?”
“Maybe.”
I thought of Martin allegedly killing to protect the answer.
“Whoever his father is changes the trust.”
Thomas nodded.
“Possibly.”
“How?”
“The founder’s documents distinguish between direct descendants and collateral descendants.”
Felix frowned.
“Daniel is Aunt Alice’s son. That makes him direct.”
“Yes.”
“So why does the father matter?”
Thomas looked toward the torn document.
“Because Alice may not have been his biological mother.”
Everything stopped.
“What?”
Felix said it before I could.
Thomas rubbed a hand over his face.
“This is one of the older secrets.”
“You have too many of those.”
“Yes.”
“Explain.”
“My father—your grandfather—had fertility physicians working with the family long before modern IVF.”
I felt cold.
“Experimental reproductive medicine.”
Thomas nodded.
“Alice was treated after her pregnancy.”
“Which pregnancy?”
“The one the family said was stillborn.”
“You said Daniel was that baby.”
“I believed he was.”
“Now?”
“Daniel found records suggesting Alice may have carried an embryo created from another Blake woman’s egg.”
Felix stared.
“That was possible then?”
“Embryo transfer was experimental but possible.”
“Whose egg?”
Thomas looked at me.
“Margaret’s.”
I almost laughed from shock.
“Daniel may be Margaret’s biological son?”
“Possibly.”
“That makes him your full brother.”
“Genetically, potentially.”
Felix whispered, “And Dad’s brother.”
“Yes.”
Every branch of the family tree had begun folding over itself.
I looked at the torn birth certificate again.
“But if Alice gave birth to him legally, the father’s name still matters.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the listed father may be the trust founder himself.”
Silence.
Felix looked sick.
“Grandfather.”
Thomas nodded once.
“If true.”
I stared at him.
“You’re saying Margaret’s egg and her husband’s sperm may have created Daniel, then Alice carried him.”
“Yes.”
“That makes Daniel Margaret and her husband’s biological child.”
“Yes.”
“And legally Alice’s son.”
“Yes.”
“So he exists in two generations at once.”
Thomas gave a bleak smile.
“Exactly the kind of problem my father’s trust never anticipated.”
A second patrol car arrived.
An officer approached with something sealed in an evidence bag.
A key card.
Mercer Biomedical.
Thomas frowned.
“Daniel hasn’t worked there in months.”
“What access level?” I asked.
The card displayed EXECUTIVE.
Felix said, “Then maybe whoever took him wanted us to go there.”
Or Daniel had.
We waited until police finished the first search.
No signs of a struggle beyond the blood smear.
No witnesses.
A traffic camera half a block away had been pointed in the wrong direction.
Convenient.
Then my phone buzzed.
Anonymous number.
NOT THE MAIN MERCER CAMPUS.
Another message.
OLD MATERNAL UNIT.
Thomas’s face changed when I showed him.
“St. Agnes.”
“What is that?”
“Mercer Biomedical operated a private maternity facility thirty years ago.”
“Where?”
He gave me the address.
Seven miles away.
Felix called the officer over.
The officer checked.
The property was officially closed.
Scheduled for demolition.
No active medical license.
No reason anyone should be there.
Which meant someone probably was.
Police headed there first.
We followed.
St. Agnes stood behind a rusted gate beneath a line of dark sycamore trees.
Three-story brick building.
Boarded windows.
One side entrance glowed with light.
Not abandoned.
Someone had power.
The officer told us to remain outside.
Then he and his partner approached.
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
One officer returned.
“Building’s empty.”
Thomas frowned.
“It isn’t.”
“We cleared the first floor.”
“There’s a basement.”
The officer looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“My family used the place.”
That statement contained enough discomfort that the officer did not ask more.
Two additional units arrived.
Then we were told to wait farther back.
While police entered again, I walked along the perimeter with Felix.
He kept several feet between us.
“Do you believe Thomas?”
“About what?”
“Daniel.”
“I believe he believes parts of it.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
Felix looked toward the building.
“Every time I think I understand my family, someone opens another room.”
“You built some of those rooms.”
“I know.”
I glanced at him.
He caught himself.
“Sorry.”
“For saying it?”
“For making you hear it again.”
We stopped.
A smell reached us.
Burning paper.
Thomas appeared around the corner.
“Do you smell that?”
“Yes.”
Smoke drifted from a basement vent.
The officers inside started shouting.
Within seconds, the side door opened and smoke poured out.
Fire department units were called.
Someone had set a fire.
Felix swore.
“They’re destroying records.”
Thomas ran toward the officer.
“Basement archive.”
The officer blocked him.
“Stay back.”
“There may be a man down there.”
“You said that already.”
“I’m saying Daniel may be down there.”
That changed everything.
Firefighters arrived.
The next twenty minutes were unbearable.
Smoke.
Radios.
Flashing lights.
No information.
Then two firefighters emerged carrying boxes.
Not a person.
Records.
They had found an active burn pile in a basement room.
Someone had started feeding files into an industrial incinerator.
Not enough time had passed to destroy everything.
Police recovered dozens of partially burned folders.
Thomas stared at one.
ALICE BLAKE — MATERNAL CASE.
Another:
D. MERCER — GENETIC STATUS.
Felix whispered, “They were cleaning him out.”
“Or leaving exactly what they wanted us to find,” I said.
Thomas looked at me.
“You’ve learned.”
“I’ve had excellent teachers.”
A firefighter called from the side entrance.
“Officer!”
Everyone turned.
Two paramedics hurried inside.
My chest tightened.
Minutes later they brought out a man on a stretcher.
Gray suit.
Blood along one side of his head.
Daniel.
Thomas ran forward.
“Daniel!”
One paramedic stopped him.
“He’s breathing.”
I exhaled.
Felix stood frozen.
Daniel’s eyes opened briefly as the stretcher passed.
He saw Thomas.
Then me.
His hand moved.
Barely.
I stepped closer.
“Nora.”
The word came rough.
“Yes.”
He tried to sit.
The medic restrained him gently.
“Stay still.”
Daniel ignored him.
“Birth record.”
“We found part.”
His eyes sharpened.
“Not enough.”
“Who’s your father?”
He looked toward Felix.
Then back at me.
“Not Harold.”
“We know.”
“Not the founder.”
Thomas stepped closer.
“What?”
Daniel’s eyes moved to him.
“My father…”
His voice failed.
The medic urged him to stop talking.
Daniel gripped my wrist.
Harder than I expected.
“Martin lied about everything.”
“I know.”
“No.”
His eyes widened.
“Everything.”
Then he whispered a name.
“Thomas.”
The world seemed to stop.
Thomas stared.
“What?”
Daniel’s grip loosened.
I looked from him to Thomas.
“You.”
Thomas went pale.
“No.”
Daniel whispered again.
“Father.”
Then his eyes closed.
The paramedics moved him toward the ambulance.
Thomas did not move.
Felix stared at his uncle.
Or perhaps something else entirely now.
If Daniel was Thomas’s biological son, then the family tree changed again.
But Thomas looked genuinely shocked.
“Impossible.”
I watched his face.
“Why?”
He swallowed.
“Because I never slept with Alice.”
I thought of everything we had learned about stolen eggs, stolen sperm, secret transfers, falsified identities.
“That may not matter.”
Thomas understood.
His face collapsed.
A police officer carried out another scorched folder.
The label was still readable.
T.B. — DONOR MATERIAL.
Thomas stared.
His initials.
My phone buzzed.
Anonymous number.
Now I almost expected the next blow.
THOMAS NEVER CONSENTED.
Another message appeared.
DANIEL WAS THE FIRST SUCCESSION CHILD.
Then:
EVAN AND LILY WERE NOT NEW CRIMES.
THEY WERE REPEATS.
Click here to continue reading: PART 22: Daniel’s Records Exposed the First Secret Birth in the Blake Trust, and Thomas Realized His Own Body Had Been Used Without Consent
At His Family’s Dinner Table, My Husband Said One German Sentence He Never Expected Me to Understand
Part 21 of 35
