Chapter 5 - The House That Burned Twice
“Mom.”
My voice came out as a whisper.
Catherine looked like she had aged years in three days. Her coat was wet. Her hair was uncombed. A bruise shadowed one cheek.
I crossed the room before Ethan could stop me.
“Where have you been?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry.”
“Dad is alive.”
She closed her eyes.
That was answer enough.
“How long have you known?”
“All along.”
The words hit harder than any slap.
“All along?”
“I wanted to tell you.”
“Twelve years.”
“I couldn’t.”
“You let me bury him.”
“I know.”
“You watched me put flowers on an empty grave.”
“I know.”
“You told me to let him go!”
She began crying. “I was trying to keep you alive.”
Behind me, Ethan’s voice hardened. “That phrase is getting old.”
Catherine looked at him. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“That is also getting old.”
She stared at my stomach. “Oh God.”
I felt cold. “What?”
“Isabella, you need to leave New York.”
“I tried.”
“No. You need to leave the country.”
“Why?”
“Because your father won’t stop.”
“What does he want?”
Her eyes dropped to my belly. “The baby.”
Ethan moved closer. “Why?”
She looked at him, and for the first time in my life I saw hatred in her face.
“Because of you.”
I turned. “What does Ethan have to do with this?”
“Everything.”
Daniel shut the door. Victoria pulled the curtains.
Catherine reached into her bag and removed a photograph. Two newborn babies lay in hospital bassinets. One wore a blue cap. The other a white cap.
On the back was written October 12, 1998.
Ethan’s birthday.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Twenty-eight years ago, your father financed a fertility research program at Saint Vincent’s Hospital.”
“Providence,” Victoria said.
Catherine nodded.
“What kind of program?”
My mother swallowed. “They believed bloodlines determined everything. Intelligence. aggression. resilience. disease.”
“That’s eugenics,” I said.
“Yes.”
Ethan looked at the photograph. “Which baby is me?”
“The blue cap.”
He went completely still.
“Your mother couldn’t conceive naturally,” Catherine continued. “Gianni Romano paid for treatment. He never knew the clinic was selecting embryos beyond ordinary medical screening.”
Ethan’s voice sharpened. “My father knew everything.”
“No. Not at first.”
“You didn’t know Gianni.”
“I knew him better than you think.”
That stopped him.
“How?”
“Gianni was Thomas’s first investor.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“My father and yours worked together?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Years.”
Catherine sat, exhausted. “There were twelve pregnancies in the first phase. Selected embryos. donor manipulation. genetic screening far beyond what was legal.”
I stared. “And me?”
“You were part of it.”
My hand went to my stomach.
“No.”
“You were the Bennett line.”
“I’m your daughter.”
Catherine’s face broke.
“You are my daughter.”
“Biologically?”
She looked away.
The answer hollowed me out.
“No.”
Ethan stepped toward me. I held up a hand.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
I looked at Catherine. “Whose egg?”
“I don’t know.”
“You carried me?”
“Yes.”
“You raised me?”
“Yes.”
“You loved me?”
Her tears spilled. “More than anything.”
I wanted that to be enough.
Maybe someday it would be.
“What was the point of pairing Ethan and me?” I asked.
Catherine looked sick. “They designed two unrelated genetic lines they believed were complementary. One male. One female.”
“Designed for what?”
“For a second generation.”
Victoria whispered, “An heir.”
Catherine nodded.
I wrapped both arms around my belly. “No.”
Ethan’s face became terrifyingly calm. “Where is Thomas?”
“I don’t know.”
“You came here with his rattle.”
Catherine looked down at it. “He gave this to me.”
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
“What did he say?”
“That it was time to bring Isabella home.”
“I am home,” I said.
“No.” Her voice shook. “He means Providence.”
Daniel cursed under his breath.
Ethan asked, “Where did you meet him?”
“My old house in Brooklyn.”
I froze. “My house?”
“He knows where you live.”
Of course he did.
I stood. “We’re going.”
Ethan immediately said, “No.”
“My nursery is there. My records. Everything.”
“Which means it’s compromised.”
“My mother may have left evidence.”
Catherine nodded. “I did.”
Ethan stared at her. “What?”
“A notebook. Thomas’s.”
“Where?”
“Under the floorboards in the nursery.”
That changed everything.
An hour later, three armored SUVs pulled onto my quiet Brooklyn street.
My townhouse looked untouched.
That frightened me more than broken windows would have.
We entered through the back. The kitchen light was on. I never left lights on.
Ethan motioned me behind him.
“Stop doing that,” I whispered.
“Doing what?”
“Putting yourself in front of me.”
“That is not stopping.”
The living room was empty. So was the bedroom.
Then I heard a floorboard upstairs.
Ethan raised his gun. Daniel moved right. Marco moved left.
“Mom?” I called.
Ethan glared. “You just announced our position.”
“It’s my house.”
“Not tactically.”
“I’m eight months pregnant, Ethan. I’m not tactical.”
We reached the nursery.
The crib sat exactly where I left it.
Catherine knelt beside the wall and pried up a loose board. Beneath it was a black notebook.
Daniel took it.
“Providence ledger,” he said.
A faint ticking sound began beneath the crib.
Everyone froze.
Ethan’s eyes widened. “Out.”
Daniel dropped to one knee. “Device.”
“Everybody out!” Ethan shouted.
He grabbed me. I resisted for half a second, then saw the wires beneath the crib.
We ran.
Thirty seconds later, the nursery windows exploded outward.
The blast shook the entire house. I fell against Ethan in the street as flames climbed through the upper floor.
My home.
My nursery.
Everything I had built for my son.
Gone.
Then Catherine gasped.
Across the street, parked beneath a dead streetlight, was a black sedan.
My father sat behind the wheel.
Alive.
Watching us.
He lifted a phone.
Daniel’s rang.
Unknown number.
He handed it to me.
I answered.
My father’s voice came through.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
I couldn’t speak.
“I’m sorry about the house,” he said.
“You tried to kill us.”
“No.”
Behind me, flames roared.
“I removed your last reason to stay.”
“Stay away from me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
His voice softened. “Because you’re carrying the future.”
I stared at him through the darkness.
Then he said something that made Ethan go still beside me.
“And Ethan isn’t the only man who can claim that baby.”
The line went dead.
The black sedan drove away.
Ethan looked at me.
There had been no one else.
He knew it now.
So whatever my father meant, it had nothing to do with an affair.
May you like
It meant someone had done something to me.
And for the first time, even Ethan Romano looked afraid to learn what.
