Chapter 15 - The Second Embryo
For twenty-four hours Alexander believed there might be another child.
The thought was unbearable.
Another Lily somewhere.
Another Hope.
Another child growing up without knowing him.
Camille initially refused to answer.
Then Alexander confronted her with the clinic records.
Her expression changed instantly.
“There is no child.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the embryo was destroyed.”
“Records say it was transferred.”
“No.”
Camille sat upright despite the handcuff attached to her hospital bed.
“I had it removed.”
“Why?”
“Because your father discovered it.”
Alexander stared.
“When?”
“Before the helicopter crash.”
“He wanted it destroyed?”
“He wanted it secured.”
“Then why did you remove it?”
Camille looked exhausted.
“Marcus found out.”
“How?”
“Keene.”
Of course.
“He threatened to take both embryos.”
Alexander’s jaw tightened.
“So you moved one.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I had it sent to another facility under a different identifying number.”
“Where?”
Camille gave him the name.
Hayes verified.
The embryo had remained frozen.
Never implanted.
Never destroyed.
Still there.
Alexander exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours.
“Why preserve it?”
Camille looked at him strangely.
“Because it was yours.”
“That never stopped you from stealing everything else.”
She flinched.
“I couldn’t destroy something that might become your child.”
Alexander almost laughed at the hypocrisy.
“You could hide an actual child.”
“I know.”
“No.”
His voice sharpened.
“You keep saying that.”
Camille looked down.
He continued.
“You preserved cells because they represented a hypothetical child.”
“But Lily was alive.”
“She breathed.”
“She cried.”
“She asked for me.”
“And you ignored her.”
Camille had no answer.
Alexander left.
The surviving embryo became a private legal matter.
He requested permanent secure storage until he could make a decision.
No more secrets.
No hidden transfers.
No one person controlling access.
Then came Marcus’s arraignment.
News cameras crowded the courthouse.
Rachel’s photograph appeared on every broadcast.
For the first time the world knew her story.
Not all of it accurately.
Some headlines called her Alexander’s secret mistress.
Others called Camille a murderous bride.
Some called Lily a “$500 million child.”
Alexander despised all of it.
Especially that one.
He issued one statement.
My daughters are children, not financial instruments and not public entertainment.
Rachel Morgan was their mother.
She deserves to be remembered as a woman who fought to protect them.
Please allow two grieving children privacy.
Then he stopped speaking publicly.
Marcus pleaded not guilty.
His attorney claimed Camille orchestrated everything.
Camille’s attorney claimed Marcus manipulated her.
Keene was dead.
Dyer cooperated.
Dr. Crowley was arrested for medical fraud and conspiracy.
The case expanded daily.
But Alexander’s life became smaller.
Breakfast.
School enrollment.
Pediatric visits.
Nightmares.
Diapers.
Lily hated peas exactly as Rachel said.
Hope hated bananas.
Lily loved pancakes.
Alexander still made terrible pancakes.
The first time he burned them, Lily stared at the smoking pan.
Then started laughing.
“Mommy was right.”
Alexander waved smoke away.
“Your mother exaggerated.”
“The pancakes are black.”
“A little.”
“They’re smoking.”
“Technical issue.”
She laughed harder.
He took a photograph.
Then instinctively reached to send it to Rachel.
The realization hit so fast he had to sit down.
Lily noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You got sad.”
Alexander looked at her.
“I wanted to show Mommy.”
Lily’s smile vanished.
“Me too.”
They sat on the kitchen floor.
Hope crawled between them.
No dramatic speech.
No lesson.
Just grief.
Shared honestly.
Weeks passed.
Alexander began therapy.
So did Lily.
Even Eleanor.
The family learned something none of them had been good at.
Speaking before fear turned into secrecy.
Then one evening Lily entered Alexander’s office holding a box.
“What’s that?”
“Mommy’s things.”
Megan had dropped them off.
Lily put the box on the floor.
“Can we look?”
Alexander hesitated.
“Yes.”
They found photographs.
Birthday cards.
Hospital bracelets.
Children’s drawings.
A dried flower.
Then a small velvet box.
Alexander opened it.
Inside was a ring.
Not an engagement ring.
A simple silver band.
He recognized it.
Rachel had bought matching rings at a street market during Cape Cod.
Seven years ago.
He had lost his.
Or thought he had.
Inside the box was a note.
Lily asked, “What does it say?”
Alexander read aloud.
For the things worth finding again.
Lily smiled.
“Mommy liked clues.”
“She did.”
At the bottom of the box was a photograph.
Rachel holding newborn Lily.
Behind the photograph, another note.
Alexander read silently first.
Then his breath caught.
Lily noticed.
“What?”
He handed it to her.
She couldn’t read every word.
So Alexander read.
If Lily ever meets Alexander, tell him this:
She smiled in her sleep the first night.
Exactly like he does.
That was when I knew the letter was wrong.
Alexander stared at the sentence.
Rachel suspected the forgery from Lily’s first night.
Yet fear trapped her for years.
Lily climbed into his lap.
“Do I smile like you?”
Alexander kissed her head.
“Apparently.”
“Show me.”
“You have to be asleep.”
“That’s dumb.”
He laughed.
Then the doorbell rang.
Megan entered ten minutes later.
She looked healthier.
Bruises fading.
She hugged Lily.
Then Hope.
Alexander thanked her again.
Megan shrugged.
“They’re family.”
The word settled warmly.
Later, after the girls slept, Megan stayed in the kitchen.
“There’s something Rachel never put in the evidence.”
Alexander tensed.
“Another secret?”
“Not a bad one.”
He waited.
“She visited you once.”
“What?”
“Not your office.”
“When?”
“Five years ago.”
“Where?”
“Your father’s funeral.”
Alexander froze.
Hundreds had attended.
Rachel had been there?
“She stood at the back.”
“Why didn’t she approach me?”
“Marcus was watching.”
His jaw tightened.
“She brought Lily.”
Alexander felt tears rise.
“Where?”
“In the cemetery.”
“You didn’t see them.”
“No.”
Megan pulled out her phone.
“I took a picture.”
She showed him.
Alexander standing beside his father’s grave.
Twenty yards behind him, partially hidden by mourners, was Rachel.
Holding a small child.
Lily.
Alexander stared.
He and his daughter had been twenty yards apart.
Five years ago.
His voice cracked.
“She was right there.”
“Yes.”
He enlarged the photograph.
Rachel was looking directly at him.
Lily’s tiny face rested on her shoulder.
Alexander closed his eyes.
So many almosts.
Almost told.
Almost reached.
Almost reunited.
He had started to hate the word.
Megan touched his arm.
“You can’t live backward.”
He looked at her.
“Rachel did for too long.”
The truth hurt because it sounded right.
Later that night Alexander stood in Lily’s doorway.
She slept with one hand beneath her cheek.
A faint smile touched her lips.
Rachel was right.
Exactly like him.
Then his phone buzzed.
Detective Hayes.
A new development.
Alexander answered.
“What now?”
“We finished analyzing Rachel’s accident vehicle.”
His stomach tightened.
“And?”
“The initial collision didn’t kill her.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Hayes sounded tense.
“You don’t understand.”
Alexander gripped the phone.
“What are you saying?”
“The crash injured her.”
“But the medical examiner found something overlooked in the original report.”
Alexander stopped breathing.
“What?”
“A puncture mark.”
Silence.
“Where?”
“Her neck.”
His blood ran cold.
Hayes continued.
“Rachel didn’t die from injuries sustained in the crash.”
Alexander’s voice became almost inaudible.
“How did she die?”
“An overdose of a fast-acting sedative.”
He stared into the dark hallway.
“Someone injected her.”
“Yes.”
“After the crash.”
“Yes.”
Alexander thought of Camille arriving at the scene.
Of paramedics.
Police.
Chaos.
“Who had access?”
Hayes paused.
Then answered.
“More people than we hoped.”
Alexander closed his eyes.
Rachel’s death had just changed from reckless homicide to deliberate murder.
May you like
And the person who killed her had stood close enough to touch her while she was still alive.
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