Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN IN THE HOSPITAL RECORDS
By sunrise, Dominic had moved everyone to a secluded property outside Chicago.
The house belonged to an old family attorney and had no visible security cameras, no staff quarters, and no connection to the Moretti business network.
For the first time in years, Dominic didn't know whom he could trust.
Marcus had disappeared. Arthur remained missing. Vanessa had stopped answering calls from her own attorney.
And Clara, the woman who had spent months quietly keeping his household in order, was suddenly the missing daughter of a family that had buried its own history.
She stood by the kitchen window, holding the birth record.
“Two sisters,” she murmured. “I grew up thinking I had nobody.”
Dominic entered carrying coffee.
“You had someone looking for you.”
“Eleanor said my mother arranged everything.”
“Then we'll find out what happened.”
Clara turned.
“You say that as though finding people is simple.”
“For me, it usually is.”
“Arthur disappeared six weeks ago. Your brother spent four years pretending to be dead. Your security chief may be selling information. And your fiancée tried to burn evidence in front of you.”
Dominic set down the coffee.
“You make a convincing argument.”
“I don't need you to agree with me. I need you to stop assuming money and power can fix everything.”
The words stung because they were true.
Dominic had built his life around control. He had mistaken silence for loyalty and obedience for trust. Clara had risked everything by preserving evidence, while the people closest to him had hidden the truth.
He sat across from her.
“What do you need?”
“A copy of every document connected to my birth. No alterations. No private investigator who answers to you. And no decisions about my life without my consent.”
Dominic nodded.
“Agreed.”
It was the first agreement he'd made in years that didn't come with conditions.
Across the room, Adrian spread a city map across the table.
“I found the hospital number,” he said. “The original records were transferred to an archive in Milwaukee when the hospital closed.”
Eleanor pointed to a notation.
“Your mother used a private physician. Dr. Paul Reeves. He signed the original delivery record.”
“Where is he now?” Clara asked.
“Retired. Living outside Milwaukee.”
Dominic reached for his coat.
“We'll see him today.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“Not together. If the people behind Northbridge are watching the family, they'll expect you to move as a group.”
“Then we'll split up,” Adrian said.
Dominic disliked the idea, but it made sense.
He and Adrian would travel separately to Milwaukee. Eleanor would remain at the safe house. Clara would go with a trusted female investigator recommended by Samuel Whitmore.
Clara studied the photograph of the two babies.
“I'm coming with you,” she told Dominic.
He began to object.
She raised her hand.
“Don't confuse protecting me with deciding for me.”
Dominic held her gaze.
Then he nodded.
They reached Dr. Reeves's home shortly after noon. The retired physician was a thin man with trembling hands and an expression that changed the moment Clara introduced herself.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered.
Clara went still.
“You remember me?”
“I remember the night your mother begged me to save both her daughters.”
Dominic stepped forward.
“Both?”
Dr. Reeves looked at him.
“Your father arrived at the hospital shortly after the birth. He demanded the records. Your mother feared he would use the children as leverage against her.”
“Why didn't she simply leave him?” Clara asked.
“Because he had people everywhere. She knew he would search for her. So she arranged for one daughter to be taken out of state. The other was placed with a family who had no connection to the Morettis.”
“Which sister went where?”
The doctor lowered his eyes.
“Your mother never told me their new names. She believed the fewer people who knew, the safer they would be.”
He led them to a locked cabinet and removed a sealed envelope.
Inside was a photograph of two newborn girls, each wearing a tiny hospital bracelet.
One bracelet read ELIZABETH.
The other had a name written in ink.
CATHERINE.
Clara touched the paper.
“Catherine Moretti.”
Dr. Reeves nodded.
“Your mother called her Catherine. But she didn't remain in the hospital long enough to receive a permanent record.”
“Where did she go?”
“I don't know.”
Dominic examined the envelope.
A second sheet had been folded inside it. It contained a bank account number, a date, and the name of a private adoption agency.
Adrian called from the doorway.
“I found something.”
He held up a photograph taken outside the hospital. A man stood beside a black sedan, his face turned away from the camera.
Dominic recognized the coat.
Their father had owned one exactly like it.
“He was there,” Dominic said.
Dr. Reeves nodded.
“He came to take one of the children. Your mother stopped him.”
“How?”
The doctor hesitated.
“She told him that if he touched either daughter, she would release the evidence she had collected about his accounts.”
Clara stared at him.
“What evidence?”
Dr. Reeves pointed to the envelope.
“Your mother left instructions that the documents were to be given to Elizabeth only when she was old enough to understand what they meant.”
Clara opened the envelope again.
Beneath the bank details lay a small photograph of a woman in her twenties.
The woman had Clara's eyes.
On the back were four words.
SHE IS ALREADY WATCHING YOU.
Dominic's phone rang.
Samuel Whitmore spoke before Dominic could greet him.
“There's been a development. Vanessa has disappeared from the mansion.”
“Did she leave voluntarily?”
“Her guards were found unconscious. Her car is still there.”
Dominic looked at Clara.
“Anything else?”
“Yes,” Samuel said. “A message was delivered to my office. It contains a photograph of Vanessa standing beside a woman who looks exactly like Clara.”
Clara's fingers went cold.
“Send it to us.”
A second later, the image arrived.
Two women stood outside a downtown hotel.
One was Vanessa.
The other had Clara's face.
But beneath the photograph, someone had written a new message.
May you like
YOU FOUND THE WRONG SISTER.
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