Chapter 12: The Wrong Son
No one in the underground command room spoke.
The glowing words remained on every monitor.
THE WRONG SON SURVIVED.
Then every screen went dark.
The silence felt heavier than the gunfire only moments earlier.
Detective Morris immediately ordered the technical team to disconnect the underground server from every external network.
"Kill every connection."
"Now."
Engineers pulled cables from switches.
Power to the archive room was isolated.
The largest monitor flickered one final time.
Another sentence appeared.
YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO COME HOME EARLY.
Then the system shut itself down.
My phone vibrated again.
Unknown number.
I answered without hesitation.
"Who are you?"
The same voice answered.
My voice.
Perfectly matched.
"You already know."
"No."
"You've spent your whole life pretending to be unique."
"You were manufactured."
I gripped the phone tighter.
"If you're my brother..."
"...tell me your name."
A quiet laugh came through the speaker.
"I've had fourteen names."
"But the one Eleanor preferred..."
"...was Daniel."
My father's name.
He had taken my father's name.
Another identity stolen.
Another life erased.
"What do you want?"
"What belongs to me."
"You mean the company?"
"No."
"You."
The line went silent.
Then a recording began playing.
A little boy laughed.
The sound hit me immediately.
It was me.
Or someone who sounded exactly like me.
A woman spoke in the background.
"Smile for Mommy."
Eleanor.
The recording ended.
Detective Morris held out his hand.
I passed him the phone.
"It was routed through seven countries."
"The call lasted less than thirty seconds."
"We won't trace it."
Officer Ramirez entered carrying another evidence box recovered from the underground archive.
"There are home videos."
"Whose?"
"No labels."
"Forensics wants you to identify the people."
We moved into a temporary evidence room.
One projector.
One table.
One locked door.
The first cassette began.
A toddler ran through a backyard.
Blue shirt.
Brown curls.
A red ball rolled across the grass.
My father chased after him.
"David!"
The child turned toward the camera.
It was me.
Or at least I thought it was.
The timestamp read:
June 3.
Twenty-eight years ago.
Another child suddenly ran into the frame.
Same height.
Same face.
Same laugh.
Daniel caught both boys in his arms.
"Not so fast."
The camera shook.
Eleanor laughed behind it.
"There they go."
My breathing stopped.
Twins.
There had never been only one child.
Daniel looked toward the camera.
"Which one's which?"
Eleanor answered instantly.
"The quiet one is ours."
"The other..."
"...belongs to Gregory."
Gregory covered his face.
"I never saw this."
Daniel frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Gregory looked toward the screen.
"Eleanor told me the second pregnancy failed."
"She never showed me both babies."
The video continued.
Daniel kissed one child on the forehead.
Then the other.
"I don't care whose blood they carry."
"They're both my sons."
My chest tightened.
For one brief moment...
...before everything collapsed...
...my father had loved us equally.
The recording abruptly cut to static.
A second tape began automatically.
Hospital room.
Night.
Two newborn bassinets.
A nurse wheeled one toward the hallway.
Eleanor stood beside the remaining bassinet.
She smiled.
"Now there's only one."
Daniel entered seconds later.
"Where's the other baby?"
"He didn't survive."
Daniel rushed toward the empty bassinet.
"What happened?"
"The doctors tried."
"I'm sorry."
He collapsed into a chair.
The grief on his face looked painfully real.
Gregory whispered,
"She lied to both of us."
The recording ended.
Maya quietly wiped tears from her eyes.
"She separated them at birth."
"No."
Officer Ramirez looked at another document.
"It happened three days later."
She placed the medical report on the table.
Both babies had survived delivery.
Both were healthy.
Both had hospital identification bracelets.
Three days later...
...one infant officially died.
Except there was no body.
Only paperwork.
Detective Morris turned another page.
"The nurse who signed this report..."
"...is Sophia Grant."
"The same woman who tried to poison Maya."
Ramirez shook her head.
"Not exactly."
"What do you mean?"
"Sophia's signature was forged."
"The handwriting doesn't match."
"So someone impersonated her."
"Again."
Identity theft.
Everywhere.
Everything.
An FBI analyst rushed inside.
"We recovered deleted surveillance."
"From where?"
"The Collins mansion."
A monitor displayed grainy black-and-white footage from twelve years earlier.
Night.
Rain.
A black SUV entered the property.
Two men carried someone inside.
My father.
Still alive.
Drugged.
Another vehicle arrived.
A teenager stepped out.
Approximately sixteen years old.
Dark jacket.
Head lowered.
Detective Morris enlarged the image.
"That's impossible."
I recognized him immediately.
Mark.
Much younger.
He helped carry my unconscious father into the mansion.
"So Mark always knew."
Gregory nodded slowly.
"He became Eleanor's favorite."
"Why?"
"Because he obeyed."
"And Chloe?"
"She never knew."
Maya folded her arms.
"She knew enough."
No one argued.
Another frame appeared.
A second teenager exited the SUV.
Long hair.
School uniform.
My heart stopped.
Natalie Kim.
She had been there too.
Only she looked terrified.
She tried helping my father.
Mark shoved her backward.
The timestamp ended.
Natalie entered the room at that exact moment under federal escort.
She saw the screen.
Then quietly sat down.
"I remember."
Everyone turned.
"I remembered everything after seeing the letter."
She looked at Gregory.
"I wasn't helping Eleanor."
"I was trying to remember why I hated that house."
She stared at the frozen image.
"Mark locked me in the basement."
"I heard someone screaming."
"I thought it was a nightmare."
"It wasn't."
"It was your father."
Daniel looked away.
"I heard someone crying upstairs."
"I thought it was one of the nurses."
"It was Natalie."
For twelve years...
...their prison had existed beneath the same roof.
Separated by concrete.
Never meeting.
Never knowing.
My phone vibrated once more.
This time the message contained only a photograph.
No words.
The image showed Liam sleeping peacefully inside the neonatal nursery.
Nothing unusual.
Until Detective Morris zoomed in.
There were two bassinets.
Not one.
Two.
Each contained an infant wearing Liam Collins's identification bracelet.
Officer Ramirez immediately ran toward the nursery.
Maya's face turned white.
"No..."
"No..."
"There was only one baby."
The live security feed appeared.
Every officer in the room watched.
The camera showed Maya rushing inside.
She reached Liam's bassinet.
Then looked at the second infant.
Same blanket.
Same hospital bracelet.
Same tiny blue hat.
The nurse looked confused.
"We've only had two babies in here all morning."
Maya slowly lifted our son.
Then looked toward the second bassinet again.
The second baby opened his eyes.
Gray-blue.
Exactly like Liam's.
A nurse frowned.
"That's strange."
"What?"
"I don't remember admitting him."
The electronic medical chart suddenly refreshed.
A new patient appeared automatically.
LIAM COLLINS
Mother:
Maya Collins.
Father:
David Collins.
Room:
NICU-4.
The original record simultaneously changed.
Our son now appeared as:
UNKNOWN MALE INFANT
No parents listed.
Someone had hacked the hospital again.
Only this time...
...they weren't trying to steal Liam.
They were trying to erase which baby was actually ours.
Across every monitor in the hospital, a new message appeared.
CHOOSE CAREFULLY.
May you like
ONLY ONE IS YOUR SON.
END OF CHAPTER 12
