Chapter 3 - ECHOES FROM THE PAST
The morning sun filtered through the massive bay windows of the lake house, casting long, golden shadows across the floorboards. Daniel had not slept a single wink. He had spent the entire night sitting in an armchair by the door of the guest bedroom, a loaded firearm locked in a safe nearby, while Marcus and his security team established a perimeter around the heavily wooded estate.
At 8:00 AM sharp, a discreet black town car pulled up the winding driveway. Dr. Aris Thorne, Daniel's most trusted private physician, stepped out carrying a medical bag. Daniel had briefed him on the encrypted channel. Complete discretion was required.
"They're upstairs," Daniel said as he let the doctor in, his voice raspy from exhaustion. "They're malnourished, dehydrated, and they have minor lacerations on their feet. I also need you to take DNA samples. Run it against mine on an absolute rush."
Dr. Thorne nodded grimly. "I understand, Daniel. The lab is on standby. We'll have the preliminary genetic markers matched in under twenty-four hours."
While the doctor gently examined the girls—who were coaxed into cooperation with the promise of warm pancakes and cartoons—Daniel retreated to his study. He booted up his laptop, connecting to a secure server. If he was going to uncover the truth, he had to start with the name the girls had given him: Mommy Helen.
Claire's illness had been a tragic, seven-month decline. She had suffered from a rare neurological condition, or so the expensive specialists Margaret had recommended claimed. Daniel had spent millions trying to save her, flying in doctors from Switzerland and Tokyo, but nothing had worked. During those final months, Claire had spent time at an exclusive holistic retreat in upstate New York, accompanied by a private nurse.
Daniel pulled up Claire’s archived medical files and financial records. He cross-referenced every transaction, every visitor log, every staff member associated with her care. Hours passed. His eyes burned from staring at the screen.
Finally, a hit.
A monthly recurring payment from a hidden trust fund Daniel didn't know existed, established under Claire's maiden name. The payments began exactly three years and nine months ago, right around the time Claire started taking regular, extended trips to a "fertility wellness center" in Vermont. The recipient of those funds? A woman named Helen Rostova.
Daniel pulled up Helen's background check. She was a registered nurse, thirty-two years old, with a clean record. But what made Daniel's heart stop was the medical file attached to the hidden trust. It wasn't just a payment for nursing services. It was a surrogacy contract.
The pieces began to fall into place with dizzying speed. Claire's sudden, devastating realization that she couldn't carry a child safely due to an underlying heart defect she had hidden from Daniel. Her determination to give him a family. The secretive trips. Helen wasn't just a nurse; she was the surrogate mother of their children.
But why hide it? Why not tell him?
Daniel's phone buzzed on the desk, vibrating violently against the mahogany wood. It was Ethan.
Daniel let it ring three times before picking up. "What do you want, Ethan?"
"Daniel, please listen to me," Ethan's voice sounded frantic, laced with a panic that was highly uncharacteristic of his usually arrogant demeanor. "You need to hand those girls over to CPS today. Do not run any tests. Do not dig into this. You have no idea what you're dealing with."
"I know exactly what I'm dealing with," Daniel lied smoothly, his mind racing. "I know about Helen Rostova."
There was a dead, suffocating silence on the other end of the line. When Ethan finally spoke, his voice was a terrified whisper. "If you know about Helen, then you know what Mother is capable of. Daniel, I'm begging you as your brother. Walk away. If she finds out you're looking into the surrogacy... she'll do to them what she did to Claire."
May you like
The line went dead.
Daniel stood completely frozen, the phone slipping from his fingers and clattering onto the desk. What she did to Claire. The horrific implication hung in the air like a guillotine. Claire didn't just get sick. She was murdered. And Margaret had orchestrated it.
