Chapter 2 - The File That Was Never Supposed to Exist
I refused to leave the hospital with Luka.
For exactly seventeen minutes.
Then someone tried to access my daughter's blood samples.
Rachel came running into my room.
“Emma, don't panic.”
People only say that when panic is appropriate.
“What happened?”
“The lab received a transfer authorization.”
“What transfer?”
“For your daughter's cord blood and neonatal samples.”
“I didn't authorize anything.”
“I know.”
Luka stood by the window.
“Name on the request?”
Rachel hesitated.
“Dr. Samuel Voss.”
Luka turned.
“He's dead.”
Silence.
Rachel blinked.
“What?”
“Voss died twelve years ago.”
My skin went cold.
Luka pulled out his phone.
“We're leaving.”
I shook my head.
“My daughter was born today. I'm not taking her anywhere without medical clearance.”
“Agreed.”
That surprised me.
He looked at Rachel.
“Get the pediatrician.”
Twenty minutes later, my daughter was medically cleared.
Luka arranged a private vehicle.
Two SUVs waited outside.
I stopped at the hospital entrance.
“I'm not getting into a car until you tell me where we're going.”
“My house.”
I laughed once.
“No.”
“Your apartment isn't safe.”
“How would you know?”
“Because Daniel changed the locks this morning.”
I stared at him.
“You're lying.”
Luka handed me his phone.
A photograph showed my apartment building.
Daniel stood beside a locksmith.
Timestamp: 9:42 a.m.
While I had been holding his newborn daughter.
My chest tightened.
“He planned this.”
“Yes.”
Before I could respond, a familiar voice came from behind me.
“Emma!”
Daniel.
He hurried through the lobby.
Alone this time.
“What are you doing with him?”
Luka stepped between us.
Daniel stopped.
He clearly recognized Luka.
That was interesting.
“You know him,” I said.
Daniel looked at me.
“Get away from Moretti.”
Luka's expression remained calm.
“Hello, Daniel.”
“Stay out of this.”
“Little late for that.”
Daniel pointed at my daughter.
“She's coming with me.”
I actually laughed.
“You abandoned her.”
“I made a mistake.”
“Six hours ago?”
“Emma, we need to talk privately.”
Luka glanced at me.
“Your decision.”
That mattered.
He didn't order me.
Didn't grab me.
Didn't pretend to own the situation.
I looked at Daniel.
“Talk.”
Daniel lowered his voice.
“Did the hospital run additional blood work?”
There it was.
Not Are you okay?
Not Can I hold her?
Blood work.
“Why?”
“No reason.”
Luka gave a humorless smile.
“Bad answer.”
Daniel snapped, “Nobody asked you.”
I stepped closer to my husband.
“Why do you care about her blood?”
Daniel's eyes moved toward Luka.
“Because Moretti is dangerous.”
“What does that have to do with blood?”
“Emma—”
“Answer me.”
Daniel's jaw tightened.
“I can't.”
Luka spoke quietly.
“Because someone paid him.”
Daniel went white.
I turned.
“What?”
Luka removed a folded document from his jacket.
“Three months ago, Daniel received $250,000 through a consulting company called Northstar Biomedical.”
Daniel lunged forward.
“That's confidential!”
Luka didn't move.
“So it's true.”
I stared at my husband.
“You were paid?”
“It was consulting.”
“For what?”
Daniel said nothing.
Luka answered.
“For access to your prenatal medical records.”
My breath disappeared.
“You sold my medical records?”
Daniel shook his head.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain it!”
“Your pregnancy wasn't normal.”
I stared at him.
“My doctors said everything was fine.”
“Because your father altered the records years ago!”
Luka's eyes sharpened.
Daniel realized he'd said too much.
I whispered, “What did my father alter?”
Nobody answered.
I looked at Luka.
“You know.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“Not here.”
“Stop saying that!”
My daughter stirred against my chest.
I lowered my voice.
“No more secrets.”
Luka studied me.
Then nodded.
“Your father worked on a confidential genetics program seventeen years ago. M-17.”
“The photograph.”
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
“A treatment project.”
“For what?”
“A rare hereditary blood disorder.”
I looked at my daughter.
“And?”
“Your father discovered something during the research. Something powerful people wanted hidden.”
“What?”
Luka glanced at Daniel.
“Your genetic profile was part of M-17.”
I froze.
“Mine?”
Daniel whispered, “Emma, don't listen to him.”
Luka continued.
“Your father discovered that the treatment used in the original M-17 trials produced a heritable genetic marker.”
I looked between them.
“I don't understand.”
“It means,” Luka said, “your daughter may carry proof that the M-17 program existed.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Emma, give me the baby.”
My entire body stiffened.
“No.”
“She's my daughter.”
Luka looked at him.
“Are you sure?”
Daniel's face changed.
And suddenly I understood why he'd returned.
Not love.
Not guilt.
Fear.
I looked at him.
“You already knew there was a question.”
Daniel said nothing.
“Didn't you?”
He looked away.
I felt sick.
Luka opened the SUV door.
May you like
“Emma.”
This time, I got inside.
