Chapter 7 - CELIA’S SECRET
Celia called me before I could call her.
“Don’t send police.”
I stood inside the vault with the transfer document in my hand.
“Where is the second sample?”
“Safe.”
“My children are dying.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me where it is.”
“Not over the phone.”
“You have thirty seconds before I put every federal agency in the country on your name.”
“That would get me killed faster.”
“Who are you protecting?”
Her voice changed.
“A child.”
I stopped.
“What child?”
“Meet me alone.”
“No.”
“Then you get nothing.”
“Celia.”
“You trusted me with Jonah and Blythe for six years.”
“And today I found your authentication chip under a shelf.”
“I put it there because I needed you to start looking.”
“You could have told me.”
“Genevieve tried telling people.”
The words landed hard.
“Where?”
Celia gave me an address in Pilsen.
An abandoned church.
Marcus hated the idea of me going.
So we compromised.
I entered alone.
Marcus placed teams around the block.
The church was dark except for candles near the altar.
Celia stepped from behind a column.
She looked exhausted.
“You look terrible,” I said.
“So do you.”
“Where is the sample?”
She handed me a photograph.
A girl about eight years old.
Dark hair.
Gray eyes.
I stared.
Something about the face felt familiar.
“Who is she?”
“Her name is Ava.”
“Why do I care?”
Celia’s jaw tightened.
“Because she is Genevieve’s daughter.”
The entire room seemed to move.
“No.”
“Before she met you.”
“No.”
“She was nineteen.”
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.”
I stared at the photograph again.
Genevieve’s eyes.
The same gray.
The same tilt at the corner.
“Genevieve would have told me.”
“She wanted to.”
“Wanted?”
Celia sat in the front pew.
“Genevieve became pregnant in college. The father disappeared when he learned. Her parents pressured her into a private adoption.”
My throat went dry.
“She spent years trying to find the child.”
“Why didn’t she?”
“Closed records.”
“What does Ava have to do with the sample?”
“Everything.”
Celia explained that Genevieve found her biological daughter three years before her death.
Ava’s adoptive name was Ava Brennan.
She lived outside Milwaukee with her adoptive parents.
Genevieve had not revealed herself immediately.
Instead, she anonymously paid for Ava’s medical screening.
“She carries the unmodified gene,” Celia said.
“Healthy?”
“Yes.”
“Then why move the sample?”
“Because Genevieve realized Ava could become a target if Northstar knew she existed.”
My stomach tightened.
“Voss knows?”
“Not then.”
“Now?”
“I think so.”
Celia continued.
“After Genevieve died, I moved one of the two stored units to a private facility under Ava’s adoption record. If anyone followed the Mercer trail, they’d find only one.”
“You stole my children’s potential treatment.”
“I protected it.”
I wanted to be furious.
But if she was telling the truth, that hidden sample might be the reason both twins could survive.
“Where?”
She gave me the facility name.
Marcus verified it within minutes.
The unit existed.
Viable.
We arranged immediate medical transport.
Then I asked the question that had been burning through everything.
“Who killed Genevieve?”
Celia looked toward the candles.
“She called me the night she died.”
“You were her assistant then.”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“That she had proof.”
“Of Northstar?”
“Of the second program.”
“The one manufacturing disease.”
Celia nodded.
“Voss discovered modified marrow cells could be activated using a specific viral vector.”
Yates had mentioned triggers.
Someone could intentionally activate the instability.
“Why?”
“Control.”
“Control what?”
“Patients.”
I stared.
Celia’s eyes filled with disgust.
“Imagine selling a treatment that only you possess. Now imagine being able to make people need that treatment.”
“That’s insane.”
“So is experimenting on embryos without consent.”
“Who wanted this?”
“Voss developed it. But someone financed it.”
“Victor?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Celia looked directly at me.
“Daniel Cross.”
Our family attorney.
My father’s trusted adviser.
The man sitting in my office right now helping investigate everything.
“No.”
“He created the shell companies that moved Northstar money.”
“He told us the transfers were authorized under my father.”
“Because he designed the authorization structure.”
“Proof?”
“Genevieve had it.”
“On the flash drive?”
“Yes.”
Marcus called at that moment.
“Lawson.”
“What?”
“Come outside.”
His tone alarmed me.
I left Celia inside and found Marcus beside his SUV.
“What happened?”
“Daniel is gone.”
My stomach dropped.
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“How?”
“Used Victor’s transfer authorization.”
“Victor is under guard.”
“Forgery.”
Of course.
“Where is he going?”
Marcus held up his tablet.
“His corporate jet just filed emergency departure.”
“Destination?”
“Switzerland.”
The encrypted flash drive suddenly mattered more than ever.
“Did cyber crack Genevieve’s drive?”
“Ten minutes ago.”
“And?”
Marcus looked toward the church.
“You need to see it.”
We returned to the estate.
On Genevieve’s flash drive were financial ledgers, emails, research videos, and a folder titled INSURANCE.
Inside was a recorded message.
Genevieve appeared on-screen.
Alive.
Her hair pulled back.
No makeup.
Terrified.
I sat so close to the monitor I could see the tiny scar near her eyebrow from a childhood bicycle accident.
“If you are watching this,” she said, “then I was unable to finish what I started.”
My eyes burned.
She continued.
“Lawson, I am sorry.”
I closed my eyes.
“I should have told you about Northstar immediately. I should have told you about the pregnancy I lost. I should have told you about Ava.”
My breath caught.
“So it’s true.”
Celia nodded beside me.
Genevieve continued.
“But I was ashamed of how many secrets I had already allowed into our marriage. Then I convinced myself I could fix everything before you ever had to know.”
She swallowed.
“I was wrong.”
On-screen, she held up a folder.
“Daniel Cross funded the Blackwell program after Northstar formally closed. Elias Voss created the vector. Victor helped conceal the original research but refused to support Blackwell once he learned its purpose.”
Victor closed his eyes across the room.
Genevieve spoke directly to the camera.
“Daniel believes the Mercer twins are proof the modified gene can be controlled. If the children remain healthy, Voss’s research becomes commercially worthless. If they become sick and are then cured with proprietary treatment, the patents become worth billions.”
I felt sick.
The Sable acquisition.
Those patents.
The deal.
Daniel had positioned Mercer Holdings to buy the company holding the cure after making my children sick.
Genevieve continued.
“I believe Daniel intends to activate Jonah and Blythe eventually.”
“Eventually,” Mara whispered.
“He did it early.”
Genevieve’s eyes filled with tears.
“If anything happens to me, protect our children from anyone who benefits financially from their illness.”
The recording ended.
Nobody moved.
Then Yates burst into the room.
“Lawson.”
His face was pale.
“What?”
“Jonah has lost consciousness.”
I ran.
Blythe was crying when I entered.
“Daddy, wake him up.”
Doctors surrounded Jonah.
Monitors screamed.
Yates pushed medication through an IV.
“Pressure falling.”
“Do something.”
“We are.”
“Where are the samples?”
“One arrived from Harbor.”
“And the second?”
“Forty minutes away.”
Jonah’s heart rate dropped.
Blythe reached toward him from the other bed.
“Jonah!”
I grabbed her hand.
Yates looked at me.
“We cannot wait.”
“You said one sample was enough for one child.”
“Yes.”
“Use it.”
“On Jonah?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated.
I understood why.
If Jonah received the available unit and the second disappeared…
Blythe might have nothing.
“Use it.”
Yates moved.
Then Blythe whispered something.
“Daddy.”
I bent close.
“Give it to Jonah.”
My throat closed.
“Sweetheart—”
“He’s my brother.”
“You need medicine too.”
“He’s sicker.”
She was six years old.
Six.
And she was making the decision grown adults had been too frightened to make.
I kissed her forehead.
“The second one is coming.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
Yates began Jonah’s preparation.
Twenty-seven minutes later, Marcus’s phone rang.
He listened.
His face went blank.
I knew before he spoke.
“What?”
“The courier vehicle carrying Blythe’s sample was hit.”
My stomach dropped.
“Accident?”
“No.”
“Where is the sample?”
May you like
Marcus looked at me.
“Gone.”
