Chapter 6 - THE BLOODLINE THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
I read the birth certificate until the words lost meaning.
Rosalie Sinclair.
Born twenty-nine years earlier.
Mother: Eleanor Sinclair.
Father: Thomas Sinclair.
My wife was my sister.
I backed away from the hospital wall, struggling to breathe.
It couldn't be true.
My parents had one child. Me. That was what I'd been told all my life.
I called General Cole.
He answered immediately.
"Alexander?"
"Tell me the truth about my father's family."
A pause.
"Where did you get that information?"
"That's not an answer."
"Come to my office."
"No. You answer me now."
He exhaled slowly.
"Your father had a daughter before he married your mother. The child's mother died shortly after childbirth. Your father arranged for the baby to be raised by a family he trusted."
"Who?"
"The Millers."
I closed my eyes.
"Why?"
"At the time, the arrangement was intended to protect the child. Your father believed his work had made him a target. He thought a different surname would keep her safe."
"Did my mother know?"
"Yes."
"Did I?"
"No."
I looked through the ICU window at Rosalie.
"Did Rosalie know?"
"Not until recently, as far as I understand."
"Why would Catherine hide this from her?"
"Because the original trust established for Rosalie included a financial interest in your father's procurement investigations. It gave her access to records that could expose the people who had taken over the network after his death."
My hands tightened around the phone.
"You're telling me my wife discovered that her family had been hiding evidence of my father's murder, and she was attacked for it."
"That's what the records suggest."
"And now she thinks she's my sister."
Cole's voice softened.
"Alexander, I don't know whether the birth certificate is authentic."
I looked at the document again.
There was a seal, a signature, and a registration number.
"Then I'll find out."
I contacted a private laboratory through a civilian attorney and arranged for a lawful comparison using a sample I already had permission to provide. The test would take several days.
Until then, the truth remained uncertain.
But Rosalie's reaction had been unmistakable.
She had been trying to tell me something.
And the person she feared most was the woman who had raised her.
That evening, Hannah arrived at the hospital carrying a small overnight bag.
She looked at the birth certificate on the chair beside me and stopped.
"You know."
"How long have you known?"
She lowered her eyes.
"Three weeks."
"Three weeks?"
"Rosalie found the documents in Mother's private office. She confronted her, and Mother told her the records were forged."
"Did you believe her?"
"No."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because Rosalie asked me not to until she could verify it."
I stood.
"She was beaten almost to death, Hannah. You don't get to decide which secrets I deserve to know."
Tears filled her eyes.
"I know."
She handed me the overnight bag.
"There's something else in here."
Inside was a small notebook with a cracked leather cover.
Rosalie's handwriting filled the pages.
The entries described months of investigating Miller Aerospace. She had found payments to shell companies, altered contract records, and correspondence involving Victor Hale.
Then I reached the final pages.
September 14: Mother says the trust was never real. She says Father made it up to control me. But why would she keep the documents locked away?
September 18: I found the adoption papers. My name was changed when I was three months old. The original birth certificate lists Eleanor Sinclair.
September 20: I asked Mother whether Alexander and I share a father. She slapped me and told me never to ask again.
September 22: I think someone is following me.
The final entry had been written the night before the attack.
If anything happens to me, the person who knows the truth is not Catherine. It's the person who has been protecting her.
I read the sentence twice.
"Who was protecting Catherine?" I asked.
Hannah shook her head.
"I don't know."
A shadow fell across the doorway.
Detective Ward stood there with his arm in a sling.
"Captain, I need to speak with you."
He looked at the notebook.
"Is that Rosalie's?"
"Yes."
"Then we have a problem."
He placed a photograph on the table.
It showed General Cole entering the Miller estate two days before Rosalie was attacked.
I stared at the image.
"Why was he there?"
Ward shook his head.
"That's what I was hoping you'd tell me."
I called Cole.
No answer.
I tried again.
His phone went straight to voicemail.
Then a text arrived from an unknown number.
Stop investigating the Miller family. Your wife is alive because they allowed it.
I showed the message to Ward.
He read it and looked up.
"Captain, I think you need to hear something before you make another move."
"What?"
"The first officer who arrived at your house on the night of the attack has disappeared."
"Who?"
"Deputy Randall."
I felt my stomach tighten.
Ward handed me another photograph.
This one showed Randall standing beside General Cole.
The date was stamped across the bottom.
Three days before my return.
I looked at the general's face.
May you like
He was smiling.
And in his right hand, he was holding the same brass key I'd found in Daniel Mercer's pocket.
