05

Gabriel's POV

At 9:17 p.m. my sister Tessa walked into my study holding her phone out in front of her.

"Gabriel, you need to read this."

I kept looking at the quarterly numbers for Locke Freight on my computer. "If this is another woman saying we are secretly related, just send it to my assistant. I don't have time tonight."

"It's about Brightwater."

My hand stopped moving on the mouse.

She walked around the desk and put the phone down next to my keyboard. I read the message on the screen.

I think there was a mistake at Brightwater Fertility. I think my son is your brother's. I'm not asking for anything. I just need the truth.

The clock above the fireplace kept ticking while I read the message one more time.

"Who sent this?" I asked, and my voice sounded colder than I wanted it to.

Tessa sat down across from me and crossed her arms. "A woman named Hannah Ashcroft. She found me through the ancestry website. Her son is a close DNA match to me, and the site says we are probably aunt and nephew."

I pushed the phone back toward her. "It's a scam."

"Maybe," Tessa said, "but she has not asked for any money. She says that right there in the message."

"They never start by asking for money. They start with something personal, something they know will hurt." I stood up and turned toward the window. "Somebody found out about my cancer treatment and the sample I froze. Now they are using my dead wife to try to get my money."

Tessa stayed in her chair. "I remember what you went through at Brightwater, and you have spent years refusing to talk about it. What if this woman really has a good reason to contact us?"

"Elise wanted a child more than anything. We froze that sample so we would still have a chance after my chemo, and she died before we ever got to use it. Now a stranger writes to you about Brightwater, and you want me to believe it is just a coincidence?"

"I want you to look at her before you decide," Tessa said. She picked up the phone and held it out to me again.

I opened Hannah Ashcroft's profile. She was not asking for anything, and I did not see any pictures of expensive cars or fancy clothes. I only saw a few family photos and a post about her newborn son.

I looked carefully at the baby's face. He had dark hair, round cheeks, and a small mouth. There was nothing I could prove from the picture. I zoomed in until the photo turned blurry, and then I threw the phone onto the desk.

The clock showed it was almost ten o'clock.

"Call Brightwater," Tessa said. "I don't care what time it is. Wake someone up and make them check the records."

The clinic director answered on my fourth try. His voice sounded thick with sleep. "Mr. Locke? Is there an emergency?"

"Yes. I want to know if my frozen sample is still in your storage. I want to know who has touched it and when. I want every record, every name, and every date."

"Mr. Locke, it is stored under our standard procedures, the same as every other patient's. There is no reason to believe anything is wrong—"

"I am not asking what you believe. You have until morning. If anything has happened to that sample, you will have to explain it to my lawyers, the medical board, and every reporter in Chicago who wants to know why your clinic cannot keep track of the sperm and embryos that people leave there."

He swallowed hard. "I will look into it myself."

"You will do more than just look," I said, and then I hung up.

Tessa sat back down. "What if she is telling the truth?"

I walked over to the bar, poured a glass of water, and left it sitting on the counter without drinking it.

I never thought anyone could steal the family that Elise and I planned, even after she was gone.

At 11:51 the director called me back. I answered before the first ring finished. "What did you find?"

His breathing sounded uneven. "Mr. Locke, there is a problem with your file. Your sample was taken out of storage thirteen months ago."

I hit the glass with my elbow by accident and spilled water all over the stone counter.

The study suddenly felt too small. "Who took it?"

"A lab technician. Her login was used to approve the removal, but a second person is supposed to sign off on every removal and nobody did. She quit the next morning, and we are still trying to find her."

"Someone walked out of your lab with my sample, and nobody told me for thirteen months?"

"We had no idea until we checked the records tonight. Mr. Locke, we are cooperating fully—"

"Then your system is worthless," I said, and I ended the call.

Tessa was standing up now, waiting for me to say something.

I looked at my sister and could not find any words.

Thirteen months. A baby born this winter would have been made right around that time.

I called my security chief and ordered him to start an independent investigation. I also told him to find out where Hannah Ashcroft was staying. After that I called my lawyers.

I did not sleep that night.

Elise and I were driving home from one of our appointments at Brightwater when a speeding truck crossed the center line. I still remember the glass breaking and the car horn that would not stop. I remember reaching for Elise's hand while strangers outside were shouting for help. At the hospital a doctor told me she was gone, and I still had my chemo treatments ahead of me.

People called me lucky after I finished chemo. Then they called me inspiring. Then they called me unstoppable. But money could not bring back the one thing I wanted most.

I wanted a child with Elise.

Somewhere in this city there might be a little boy who was made from the sample I saved for her.

My security chief texted me an address in Pilsen at five in the morning.

I left the house at six with three lawyers and my security chief. We drove through the snow. The building was an old walk-up with narrow stairs and a faded front door. One of the lawyers started listing all the legal risks of showing up there without warning.

I cut him off. "Do not say another word until we have seen the boy."

I knocked on the door at seven o'clock, and a baby started crying inside. I knocked again, harder this time.

I heard footsteps cross the floor, and a woman called through the door. Her voice was shaking. "Who is it?"

"I am here to see Hannah Ashcroft."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Gabriel Locke."

There was silence for a moment. Then the door opened a few inches, still held by the chain.

A tired-looking woman peered out at me. She was wearing an old nursing sweatshirt, and her hair was pulled up in a messy knot. She looked like she had not slept in weeks. She was holding a crying baby against her shoulder.

She looked at the men standing behind me and pulled the baby closer to her body.

The baby hiccuped, stopped crying, and turned his head toward me.

His eyes were a deep gray-blue color, the exact same shade as my mother's eyes. Every person in the Locke family has that eye color. I have seen it in old family photos and in my own mirror every morning of my life.

Now those same eyes were looking up at me from a baby's face.

My knees felt weak.

"What's wrong?" the woman whispered.

I tried to answer her, but my throat closed up and I could not trust my voice.

I took one step forward. She jerked backward and moved to block the opening in the door.

I looked at the baby again, and then I looked straight at her.

"You have my son."