Chapter 10 - The Dead Doctor
Nathan Vale had been living under guard in the hunting lodge for eight months.
His death had been staged.
Margaret controlled the location.
She controlled the staff.
And according to Nathan, she controlled the medication that kept him confused and weak.
When police rescued him, he immediately asked for immunity.
Detective Morales laughed.
Nathan had participated in decades of medical fraud.
Immunity was unlikely.
Cooperation, however, could matter.
Nathan began talking.
He confirmed everything.
Bellhaven had initially been legitimate.
Margaret corrupted it.
She used money.
Blackmail.
Family connections.
Nathan convinced himself that genetic substitutions harmed nobody if healthy children resulted.
Then complications began.
Families discovered unexpected blood types.
Medical histories did not match.
Children developed conditions nobody anticipated.
Nathan realized the horror of what he had done.
He tried to stop.
Margaret threatened him.
She possessed records proving his crimes.
He continued.
When Evan and I entered Bellhaven, Nathan recognized my maiden name.
He knew exactly why Margaret had brought me.
“Revenge.”
My voice shook.
“Against my father?”
“Yes.”
“And against Charles.”
“How?”
Nathan looked at Charles.
“She wanted your biological child.”
Charles looked sick.
“Why?”
“Because Margaret believed Evan was growing independent.”
“She worried he might leave the Whitmore businesses.”
“She wanted another genetic anchor.”
“A grandchild who was directly yours.”
My hands clenched.
“She used me as an incubator.”
Nathan lowered his eyes.
“Yes.”
Charles stood and walked out of the room.
Nobody stopped him.
Then I asked about Diane's missing son.
Nathan looked confused.
“What missing son?”
Diane explained.
Nathan frowned.
“Margaret doesn't have him.”
“Then who does?”
“Diane, your son died.”
She went completely still.
“No.”
Nathan looked horrified.
“You didn't know?”
Diane shook her head violently.
“No.”
“He was fourteen months old.”
“He died from meningitis.”
“Margaret told me he was living with a private foster family.”
Nathan covered his face.
“No.”
Diane collapsed.
The cruelty was beyond comprehension.
Margaret had controlled her own daughter for years using a child who had been dead the entire time.
When Diane could finally speak, she asked where he had been buried.
Nathan gave her the cemetery.
Then he revealed why Margaret had staged his death.
He intended to confess.
Margaret discovered it.
Instead of killing him, she hid him.
Dead men could not testify.
Living men could still be controlled.
But Margaret had underestimated one thing.
Nathan had copied the Bellhaven database.
“Where?”
He looked at me.
“Inside a safety deposit box.”
The box contained more than patient records.
It contained video.
Margaret had insisted important conversations be recorded because she trusted nobody.
Nathan secretly kept duplicates.
We watched one filmed approximately six years earlier.
Margaret sat at Bellhaven with Nathan.
On the table was my file.
Margaret said, “Claire Bennett thinks marrying Evan made her a Whitmore.”
Nathan replied, “She is a Whitmore.”
“No.”
“She is the daughter of the man who tried to destroy my father.”
Nathan laughed.
“Edward deserved prison.”
Margaret's eyes hardened.
“She will carry Charles's child.”
Nathan refused.
Margaret threatened him.
The video continued.
Then a man entered.
Evan.
My stomach dropped.
He looked younger.
But unmistakably Evan.
He sat beside Margaret.
My husband had been at Bellhaven before our official consultation.
I turned toward him.
He stared at the screen.
“I don't remember this.”
On video, Margaret said something quietly.
Evan nodded.
Then he signed a document.
I stopped the recording.
“What did you sign?”
“I don't know.”
“Play it.”
We continued.
Nathan placed a consent form in front of Evan.
Evan read it.
Then said:
“If this gives Claire the baby she wants, do it.”
I felt something inside me fracture.
The form authorized the use of an alternative donor if Evan's sample proved unsuitable.
But no donor was identified.
Margaret had exploited that consent.
Evan had unknowingly opened the door.
I looked at him.
“You signed away the right to know who fathered my child.”
“I thought it meant a standard donor.”
“You never told me.”
“I was scared you wouldn't marry me if you knew how severe my fertility problems were.”
That was another secret.
Evan had known before we married that his likelihood of biological fatherhood was extremely low.
He concealed it.
Then allowed me to spend years believing the fertility problem might be mine.
I stood.
“Claire.”
“Don't.”
“I didn't know Mom would—”
“You knew enough to lie.”
He looked shattered.
I no longer cared.
Then Nathan paused the video himself.
“There's more.”
Another figure appeared in the background.
A young woman.
She carried a folder.
She turned toward the camera.
May you like
I recognized her immediately.
My sister Rebecca.
