Chapter 23 The Second Child
Nobody spoke.
The photograph remained on Audrey's phone.
Two newborns.
Two blankets.
Two lives that had apparently been separated before either child could know the other existed.
Audrey stared at the image.
“The yellow ribbon.”
Lydia nodded slowly.
“You remember it.”
“I remember holding her hand.”
Ethan looked between them.
“You're saying Audrey had a twin.”
Nathan's expression was grim.
“We're saying we need proof before we believe anything.”
Audrey looked at him.
“You just told me.”
“I told you what I was told.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“No.”
Nathan sat down.
“And that is exactly why we need the archive.”
Caleb picked up the photograph.
“Where did this come from?”
“Unknown number,” Audrey said.
He studied the image.
“The date is missing.”
Ethan took the phone.
“There may be metadata.”
He checked the file.
Nothing.
“Whoever sent it stripped everything.”
Audrey looked toward Lydia.
“You said Mara died when I was two.”
“Yes.”
“Then how could she have had twins?”
Lydia hesitated.
“She may not have known.”
“What does that mean?”
“Richard controlled the hospital records.”
Audrey's stomach tightened.
“So he could have changed them.”
“Yes.”
“Then the child in this photograph may not be my twin.”
Nathan nodded.
“Correct.”
Audrey exhaled.
“Then why send it to me?”
“Because someone wants you to believe it.”
Ethan looked at the photograph again.
“Or remember it.”
Audrey glanced at him.
“What if I do remember?”
“Then we follow the memory.”
She nodded.
“I remember a basement.”
“Let's start there,” Ethan said.
The safe house had once been a private residence.
Now it served as a temporary refuge for people who had become inconvenient to powerful families.
Nathan had spent years collecting information there.
Old files filled the walls.
Maps covered one table.
Photographs covered another.
Audrey walked slowly through the room.
There were images of Richard.
James.
Evelyn.
Marcus.
Mara.
Claire.
And several people she did not recognize.
One photograph caught her attention.
A young Mara stood outside a hospital.
She was holding a newborn.
Beside her stood Claire.
Audrey picked it up.
“That's me.”
Lydia came closer.
“Yes.”
“But there is only one baby.”
Nathan nodded.
“That's what the official record says.”
Audrey looked at the photograph.
“Then where is the second child?”
No one answered.
She turned the photograph over.
There was writing on the back.
Room 217.
Audrey's pulse quickened.
“Room 217.”
Ethan looked at her.
“That's the number.”
“2:17.”
Nathan stood.
“It may not have been a time.”
Audrey looked at him.
“What?”
“Maybe 2:17 was a room.”
A silence followed.
Ethan took the photograph.
“The hospital room.”
Audrey nodded.
“That would explain why I kept remembering the number.”
Caleb stepped toward the map.
“Which hospital?”
Nathan pointed to an old building marked on the map.
“St. Catherine's.”
Ethan looked at him.
“That hospital closed years ago.”
“Not completely,” Nathan said.
“The basement records facility is still active.”
Audrey stared.
“Then that's where we go.”
Ethan shook his head.
“It's controlled.”
“By whom?”
Nathan answered.
“Richard.”
Audrey's heart sank.
Of course.
Every path led back to him.
Ethan looked at the others.
“We need a plan.”
Lydia smiled faintly.
“Finally.”
“What?”
“Someone is thinking before charging through a door.”
Ethan gave her a dry look.
“You've been waiting years to say that.”
“Yes.”
A small smile appeared between them.
It disappeared quickly.
Too much remained unresolved.
Audrey watched them.
For the first time, she could see the possibility of something healing between the brothers.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But recognition.
They left before noon.
Graham drove.
Caleb sat beside him.
Nathan remained at the safe house because his injury made the trip too risky.
Lydia came with them.
Ethan sat beside Audrey in the back.
The city passed outside the window.
Audrey looked at the old photograph.
“Do you think I'm imagining the memory?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you remembered the same thing Lydia did.”
Audrey looked at him.
“She remembered the ribbon.”
“Yes.”
“So did I.”
Ethan nodded.
“That's important.”
She lowered the photograph.
“What if the child is alive?”
He looked at her.
“Then we'll find her.”
“What if she isn't?”
“Then we'll find out what happened.”
Audrey looked down.
“You always make everything sound simple.”
“It isn't.”
“Then why say it that way?”
“Because panic doesn't solve anything.”
She gave him a tired smile.
“You've changed.”
“So have you.”
“How?”
“You stopped waiting for someone else to tell you what you deserve.”
Audrey looked out the window.
“Maybe.”
Ethan reached across the seat and took her hand.
She let him.
His touch was warm and steady.
Nothing about it demanded anything from her.
That mattered.
She squeezed his hand once.
He looked at her.
Neither spoke.
Then the car stopped.
Graham turned.
“We're here.”
St. Catherine's Hospital looked abandoned from the outside.
The windows were dark.
The sign had been removed years ago.
Weeds grew through the cracked pavement.
Yet a security camera moved above the entrance.
Graham noticed it.
“Someone is maintaining the place.”
Lydia looked toward the building.
“Richard.”
“Probably.”
Ethan opened the door.
Audrey stopped him.
“Wait.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
She pointed toward the camera.
“It's not recording.”
“How do you know?”
“It moves every twelve seconds.”
Graham looked at her.
“And?”
“It repeats exactly.”
Ethan studied the camera.
“You're right.”
Lydia smiled.
“Decoy.”
They entered through a side door.
The corridor smelled of dust and disinfectant.
Their footsteps echoed.
Audrey's pulse increased with every step.
She had been here before.
Somewhere inside these walls was a memory she had spent years forgetting.
They reached the old elevator.
It didn't work.
Graham opened the maintenance panel.
“Stairs.”
They descended.
One floor.
Two.
Three.
The basement was colder.
At the end of the corridor stood a steel door.
A keypad covered the wall.
Ethan examined it.
“No power.”
Audrey looked at the keypad.
“Maybe that's intentional.”
She placed her hand against the metal.
Something inside her mind shifted.
A flash.
A child's hand.
A woman crying.
A door marked 217.
Audrey stepped back.
“It's here.”
Ethan looked at her.
“What?”
“The room.”
Lydia pointed toward another corridor.
“Then we follow the memory.”
They turned.
At the end of the hall was a faded number.
Audrey stopped.
The door was sealed.
Graham tried the handle.
“Locked.”
Audrey stared at it.
Then she remembered something.
A red suitcase.
A brass key.
A woman's voice.
If she remembers, use the key.
She looked at Ethan.
“Do you have a key?”
“No.”
“Check your father's old things.”
He frowned.
“Why?”
“I remember a brass key.”
Ethan searched his coat.
Nothing.
Lydia suddenly reached into her bag.
She removed a small envelope.
“I have this.”
Audrey stared.
“Where did you get it?”
“Claire gave it to me.”
Lydia handed it over.
Inside was a brass key.
Audrey took it.
Her fingers trembled.
She inserted it into the lock.
The door opened.
Inside was a small records room.
Shelves filled the walls.
Boxes covered the floor.
Audrey walked toward the center.
A single file sat on a desk.
Her name was written across it.
AUDREY PARKER — BIRTH RECORD
She opened it.
The first page was normal.
Birth date.
Hospital.
Mother.
Father.
Then she turned the page.
There was another name.
CHILD B — FEMALE — UNREGISTERED.
Audrey's breath caught.
Ethan leaned closer.
“Twin.”
Audrey nodded.
A second document followed.
Child B transferred to private custody.
No name.
No destination.
Only one signature.
Richard Calloway.
Audrey's hands shook.
“He took her.”
Lydia looked over her shoulder.
“Maybe.”
Audrey turned the next page.
A handwritten note appeared.
Transfer authorized by Mara Vale.
Audrey froze.
“No.”
Ethan frowned.
“What?”
“Mara signed this.”
Lydia shook her head.
“That can't be right.”
Audrey looked at the date.
“Mara was already dead.”
Everyone went silent.
Someone had forged her signature.
Audrey turned another page.
A photograph fell out.
It showed a woman carrying a baby.
Audrey looked at the woman's face.
She recognized her.
It was the woman from the video.
Mara.
But there was something wrong.
The baby wasn't Audrey.
It was the other child.
On the back of the photograph were four words:
She chose the other one.
Audrey stared.
“Who?”
No answer.
Then footsteps sounded outside the room.
Slow.
Measured.
Approaching.
Ethan immediately closed the file.
“Someone's coming.”
Graham moved toward the door.
“Lights off.”
The room went dark.
The footsteps stopped outside.
A man's voice came through the door.
“I know you're in there.”
Ethan looked at Audrey.
She recognized the voice.
Richard.
The door handle moved.
Richard spoke again.
“You've spent your whole life asking why your mother died.”
The lock clicked.
“Now ask yourself why she chose your sister instead of you.”
The door began to open.
And Audrey heard Lydia whisper:
“He's lying.”
Richard stepped into the darkness.
He wasn't alone.
Beside him stood a young woman.
Dark hair.
Pale face.
A yellow ribbon tied around her wrist.
Audrey stared.
The woman looked directly at her.
Then she whispered,
“I'm sorry, Audrey.”
Audrey's heart stopped.
The woman smiled sadly.
“I'm your sister.”