Chapter 3 - The Third Bracelet
At sunrise, Stellan took me into a room nobody else in the mansion seemed to know existed.
It was behind the library.
A fingerprint lock opened a steel door hidden behind shelves.
Inside were photographs.
Hundreds of them.
Cross family history covered the walls.
Victor Cross shaking hands with politicians.
A young Stellan beside his sister Cassandra.
Cassandra laughing beside a lake.
Cassandra at seventeen.
At twenty.
At twenty-five.
And then nothing.
Stellan stopped in front of one photograph.
“That was taken three weeks before she supposedly died.”
Cassandra was beautiful.
Dark hair.
Gray eyes.
The same eyes Fern had.
I felt sick.
“She looks like her.”
Stellan nodded.
He touched the photograph.
“My father told me Cassandra died instantly in a crash outside Milwaukee.”
“And you believed him?”
“I saw a coffin.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
His voice became bitter.
“I know that now.”
He opened a safe.
Inside was an old envelope.
He removed a photograph.
Cassandra stood beside a masked man at a charity gala.
My blood froze.
I knew that ballroom.
“That’s the night we met.”
Stellan looked at me.
“Yes.”
“You were there because of her?”
“I was trying to find her.”
I stared at him.
“You told me you were hiding from men who wanted to kill you.”
“They did.”
“Because?”
“My sister had contacted me three days earlier. She said our father was involved in something involving newborn identities, offshore trusts, and children belonging to powerful families.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Leverage.”
The word chilled me.
Stellan explained.
For decades, Victor Cross had built power by owning secrets.
Affairs.
Illegitimate children.
Adoptions.
Bribes.
Medical records.
Anything that could destroy politicians, judges, businessmen.
“He called it the Cradle Ledger,” Stellan said.
“A list?”
“A weapon.”
“And Cassandra found it?”
“I believe so.”
“Then why involve my baby?”
“I don’t know.”
His phone rang.
Dr. Hale.
Stellan answered.
We both listened.
“I found the archived delivery log.”
My heart raced.
“And?”
“Three infants were physically present in the restricted neonatal transfer room between 2:00 and 5:00 a.m.”
“Names.”
“Fern’s file originally had no name. Cassandra’s child was listed as Baby Cross.”
“And the third?”
Hale paused.
“Baby Vale.”
Stellan’s expression changed.
I saw recognition.
“Vale?”
“Yes.”
“Mother?”
“Marisol Vale.”
Stellan hung up.
“Who is she?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“The wife of Dominic Vale.”
I knew that name.
Everyone in Chicago did.
Dominic Vale controlled half the illegal gambling operations on the South Side.
More importantly, he had been Stellan’s enemy for years.
“You’re telling me Fern could belong to your enemy?”
“I’m telling you we don’t know anything yet.”
A knock interrupted us.
One of Stellan’s men entered.
His name was Rafe Mercer.
Tall.
Calm.
Dangerous.
Stellan introduced him as his oldest friend.
Rafe handed him a plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a hospital bracelet.
Baby Cross.
I stared.
“Where did you find that?”
Rafe’s answer made the room colder.
“Mrs. Thornbury’s bedroom.”
Stellan’s face hardened.
“Bring her.”
Ten minutes later, Evelyn stood before us.
Stellan placed the bracelet on the table.
“Talk.”
She stared at it.
“I kept it because Cassandra gave it to me.”
“When?”
“The night she delivered.”
“Why?”
“She said if anything happened, I should give it to you.”
“You waited almost two years.”
“I was afraid.”
Stellan slammed his palm onto the table.
Fern began crying in the next room.
He immediately stopped.
That tiny reaction told me more about him than any confession could have.
Evelyn noticed too.
“She knew you would love the child,” she whispered.
Stellan looked away.
“Cassandra knew.”
“Then why hide her?”
“Because she didn’t know who she could trust.”
Stellan’s eyes returned to Evelyn.
“Where is the third bracelet?”
“I don’t know.”
Rafe’s phone buzzed.
He checked it.
Then frowned.
“What?”
“Sir, someone breached the east gate.”
Stellan turned.
“How many?”
“Three vehicles.”
Gunfire cracked somewhere outside.
My blood went cold.
Stellan reached under the desk and pulled out a handgun.
“Rafe, take Selene and Fern downstairs.”
“No,” I said.
Both men looked at me.
“I’m done being moved around without answers.”
Another burst of gunfire echoed through the mansion.
Stellan stepped close.
“This is not a debate.”
“You don’t own me.”
“No.”
His eyes dropped briefly toward Fern.
“But someone outside wants that child, and until I know why, I will burn Chicago before I let them take her.”
Then the lights went out.
Complete darkness.
Fern screamed.
I heard Stellan move.
A hand grabbed mine.
“Stay behind me.”
Emergency lights flickered red.
Rafe opened the hidden door.
“Move!”
We entered the corridor.
Gunfire erupted upstairs.
Men shouted.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Something made me answer.
A woman whispered.
“Selene?”
I stopped walking.
“Yes?”
“Listen carefully. Fern is in danger.”
“Who are you?”
A sob came through the phone.
“My name is Marisol Vale.”
My heart stopped.
The mother of the third baby.
“I was told my daughter died that night.”
I looked at Fern.
Marisol continued.
“She didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw her yesterday.”
My legs weakened.
“Where?”
There was a pause.
Then she said:
“With Victor Cross.”
May you like
The call ended.
At that exact moment, an explosion shook the mansion.
Related Stories
