Chapter 9 - RACHEL’S CHOICE
I did not go to St. Agnes.
Marcus sent officers.
The room they found was empty.
Fresh sheets.
Used diaper wipes.
A stuffed rabbit identical to the one in the photograph.
Another carefully constructed trail.
Marianne had wanted us moving from one location to another while she stayed ahead.
The difference now was that Rachel appeared to be helping her.
I refused to accept it immediately.
“Thomas could be lying again.”
Marcus nodded.
“He could.”
“Rachel believed the embryo was donated.”
“Yes.”
“She discovered the truth.”
“According to Thomas.”
“She tried to run.”
“According to Peter Hale.”
“She sent the video.”
“Possibly under pressure.”
Every fact had become conditional.
That was Marianne’s greatest weapon.
She did not simply lie.
She mixed truth with lies until separating them required destroying your own certainty.
We returned to Marcus’s office.
Julian sat across from me.
Sienna remained silent.
No one trusted anyone.
That might have been Marianne’s second greatest weapon.
My phone buzzed at 11:26.
A message from an unknown number.
YOU HAVE MY DAUGHTER’S DNA.
I stared.
Another message followed.
I HAVE YOUR SON’S HISTORY.
I called immediately.
Rachel answered.
No greeting.
No fear.
Her voice was calm.
“You shouldn’t have gone to the church.”
My heart pounded.
“Where is Grace?”
“Safe.”
“Let me see her.”
“No.”
“She is biologically my daughter.”
“And I am the only mother she has ever known.”
I closed my eyes.
There was pain behind Rachel’s anger.
Real pain.
“Rachel.”
“Don’t.”
“I did not know you existed.”
“I know.”
“I did not donate that embryo.”
“I know.”
“I did not choose to take anything from you.”
“And I didn’t choose to take anything from you.”
That stopped me.
She continued.
“They lied to both of us.”
“Yes.”
“But now that you know, what do you want?”
“My child.”
Silence.
Then Rachel asked the question I had feared.
“And what happens to me?”
I looked at Sienna.
She was staring at the floor.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m not going to lie to you.”
“Marianne says you’ll take Grace.”
“Marianne is the reason any of this happened.”
“She says Julian’s family will use the trust to bury me.”
“They probably will.”
Julian looked up.
I ignored him.
Rachel continued.
“She says if Grace is publicly identified as the first Cross heir, every newspaper in the country will know her name.”
“She’s right about that.”
“She says people will follow us.”
“Possibly.”
“She says your lawyers will challenge my parental rights.”
I looked at Marcus.
He said nothing.
“Rachel, Marianne wants control of the trust.”
“She says she wants Miles protected.”
“She wants two hundred million dollars under her control.”
Silence.
“She didn’t tell you that, did she?”
Rachel’s breathing changed.
I pressed.
“She becomes trustee if Miles inherits.”
“If Grace inherits, an independent bank controls the assets.”
“Ask her.”
Rachel hung up.
Julian stood.
“You told her too much.”
I looked at him.
“She already knows enough to be afraid.”
“She doesn’t need financial details.”
“She needs the truth.”
Sienna spoke quietly.
“Clara’s right.”
Julian turned.
“You don’t get a vote.”
Sienna laughed.
“You mean because I’m only the woman you cheated with, lied beside, and used to humiliate your ex-wife?”
“This isn’t about us.”
“No.”
“It’s about children we both failed.”
The words silenced him.
My phone rang again.
Rachel.
I answered.
Her voice was different.
“She says the trust amendment is fake.”
“Ask to see the original.”
“She says Clara forged it.”
I laughed softly.
“Of course.”
Rachel went quiet.
Then I heard a child babble in the background.
My breath stopped.
Grace.
“Is that her?”
Rachel did not answer.
“Please.”
Nothing.
“I’m not asking where you are.”
“I’m not asking you to hand her over.”
“Just let me hear her.”
Rachel’s voice cracked.
“You really didn’t know.”
“No.”
“She has your eyes.”
I closed mine.
“So does Miles.”
“You met him?”
“Yes.”
Rachel was silent again.
“What is he like?”
The question surprised me.
“He likes zippers.”
She laughed once.
A small, unwilling sound.
“Grace likes buttons.”
I smiled before I could stop myself.
“She pulls them off everything.”
“She has a rabbit?”
“Yes.”
“She calls him Bibi.”
My throat tightened.
For thirty seconds, we were simply two women talking about children we loved.
Then Rachel asked, “Do you want to take her from me?”
I answered carefully.
“I want to know my daughter.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
“Then answer.”
I stared at Miles’s DNA report.
“I do not know what the law will decide.”
“I do know I will not pretend I am not her biological mother.”
“I will not sign away my rights.”
“But I also will not pretend you are nothing to her.”
Rachel started crying quietly.
“I carried her.”
“I know.”
“I almost died when she was born.”
My heart clenched.
“What happened?”
“Emergency bleeding.”
“She spent five days in neonatal care.”
“No one came.”
“No family.”
“No donor agency.”
“Just me.”
“I named her Grace because I thought surviving meant something.”
“It does.”
“I love her.”
“I believe you.”
“Then why can’t you leave us alone?”
Because she was my child.
Because someone had taken her before I knew she existed.
Because every cell in my body screamed that I could not simply walk away.
But Rachel’s question deserved more than instinct.
“Because if I leave you alone, Marianne wins.”
Rachel stopped crying.
“She stole your ability to choose.”
“She stole mine too.”
“If we let her decide that the only solution is for one mother to disappear, then she still controls us.”
Silence.
Long.
Heavy.
Then Rachel whispered, “She told me you would hate me.”
“I don’t.”
“You should.”
“No.”
“I accepted an embryo.”
“You believed it was donated.”
“I stayed quiet after I learned there might be a problem.”
“How long?”
“Three weeks.”
I closed my eyes.
Not months.
Not years.
Three weeks.
“Why?”
“I was seven months pregnant.”
“I panicked.”
“Then Peter called.”
“He told me the truth.”
“I left Denver.”
“Marianne found me later.”
“How?”
“She always finds people.”
“Why are you helping her?”
Rachel began to answer.
A door opened in the background.
Her voice changed instantly.
“I have to go.”
“Rachel.”
“If I call again, don’t involve police.”
“Why?”
No answer.
“Rachel.”
She whispered.
“Because Marianne isn’t the person I’m afraid of anymore.”
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
Everyone had heard.
Marcus leaned forward.
“Someone else is with her.”
“Who?”
“We need to find out.”
Julian’s phone buzzed.
A foundation alert.
He looked at the screen.
“What?”
I asked.
His face drained of color.
“Someone accessed the Bright Tomorrow server.”
“Peter said there was a hidden server.”
“No.”
Julian looked at me.
“I mean the live financial system.”
“Who?”
“Administrative credential.”
“Sienna?”
She stood.
“I’m right here.”
Julian stared at the login.
“Thomas.”
Marcus immediately called security at the foundation office.
No answer.
We drove there.
The building was dark.
Front doors unlocked.
Inside, the alarm had been disabled.
My old office stood open.
The wall behind the bookcase had been cut apart.
The hidden server was gone.
Thomas was gone too.
On the floor lay one thing.
His foundation identification card.
Broken in half.
Marcus found a security camera still running from the opposite corridor.
We reviewed the footage.
At 10:58, Thomas entered alone.
At 11:07, he removed the server.
At 11:13, a second person appeared.
A woman wearing a baseball cap.
Thomas hugged her.
Then handed her the server.
She looked up once.
The camera caught her face.
Rachel Monroe.
My phone buzzed seconds later.
A photograph appeared.
Rachel.
Grace.
Thomas.
All three standing beside a car.
The caption read:
WE HAVE THE EVIDENCE.
WE DO NOT NEED CLARA.
Then another message followed.
This one was from Marianne.
And it contained only four words.
May you like
YOU CHOSE THE WRONG MOTHER.
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