CHAPTER 5: THE PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR

The truth never stays quiet. It waits for the right person to dig it out. 

By the time dawn broke, Selena felt different. The shock had burned off, leaving her colder, more focused. Tears dried up. Marcus’s anger barely registered. She was past grieving, past reacting. She was thinking, something Marcus never liked.

Keller watched from his spot across the hotel room as Selena paced. Phone in one hand, contract glowing on her tablet in the other. He finally spoke. “You look... oddly calm.”

Selena paused and met his eyes. “I’m not calm. I’m just done pretending I didn’t see this coming.”

Keller nodded, a little wary. “That’s usually when people start making risky moves.”

“Good.” She shut her laptop. “I’m finished letting Marcus dictate everything. I want to get ahead.”

She crossed over, grabbed her laptop, and opened the authorization chain. “Marcus thinks he owns the story because he handles the paperwork. But paperwork’s easy to fake. Timelines, too. What he can’t erase is the real-world evidence.”

Keller leaned in. “So, surveillance. You want something outside his reach.”

“Exactly. Cameras, entry logs, security feeds—anything he didn’t plan to scrub five years ago.”

Keller hesitated. “Most of those records got wiped or stored away.”

“Not all,” Selena said. “Some stuff sticks around if you know where to search.”

“Stuff survives if you know where to look.”

She scrolled through old contacts, stopping at a name: Daniel Royce.

Keller raised an eyebrow. “Who’s that?”

“Someone who doesn’t give a damn about company threats. And someone who finds things no one wants found.” She hit call.

The phone rang twice, then Daniel picked up. His voice was low, steady. “Dr. Hart. I figured you’d call someday.”

Selena didn’t bother with small talk. “I need surveillance retrieval.”

Daniel went quiet. “That’s not a casual ask.”

“Not a casual problem.”

What kind of footage?”

“Private fertility clinic. London. Five years ago.”

Daniel paused longer this time. “That’s old. Most systems would’ve dumped that footage unless archived on purpose.”

“I know. That’s why I called you.”

Keller watched her, the tension obvious.

Daniel sighed. “You want me to dig into something that was probably buried for a reason.”

“Yep.”

“And you’re not telling me why.”

“I will. But not over the phone.”

A brief silence. Then Daniel replied, “Send me the location.”

Selena glanced at Keller; he pulled up the facility records. She read out the address.

“I’ll call in two hours,” Daniel said, then hung up.

Selena lowered her phone.

Keller leaned back, watching her. “You trust him?”

“I trust he gets results,” Selena replied.

---

Two hours later, Daniel showed up in person. Selena opened the door—there he was, dark jacket, sharp eyes. He walked in without saying much.

“You never mentioned Kingsley Biologics was involved,” he said.

Selena folded her arms. “Would you have come if I did?”

Daniel shook his head. “No. Which is probably why you left it out.”

Keller stepped forward. “Adrian Keller.”

Recognition flickered. “You’re the guy who blew the whistle and disappeared.”

“Just went off-grid for a bit,” Keller replied.

Daniel exhaled, turning back to Selena. “So you want surveillance from a Kingsley fertility lab. That place has serious security.”

“I know.”

“And you still want it?”

“I don’t want you to try,” Selena said, steady. “I want you to find it.”

Daniel watched her for a long moment. “This isn’t curiosity. This is personal.”

Selena stared right back. “Marcus altered my medical records. Faked my miscarriage. Used a surrogate behind my back.”

Daniel didn’t change expression, but something shifted. “Alright. I get why you’re not playing nice.”

He pulled out a tablet. “I made a few calls on the way. Kingsley Reproductive Sciences used an outside contractor back then. They hadn’t merged everything yet.”

Selena leaned in. “And?”

“So their backups weren’t just in Kingsley’s cloud. We might find leftover footage in a third-party archive.”

Keller narrowed his eyes. “How likely?”

Daniel shrugged. “Not great. But possible.”

Selena’s voice clipped cool. “Then find it.”

Daniel started tapping on his tablet. “It’s not about access. It’s about pulling it without anyone raising flags.”

“Marcus watches old access points?” Keller asked.

“If he’s careful, and it sounds like he is, he won’t keep eyes on them all the time. But he’ll know if someone grabs anything tied to those dates.”

Selena didn’t hesitate. “Then we move faster than his notifications.”

Daniel looked up. “You’ve changed.”

She met his gaze. “I had to.”

He dropped his eyes to the screen. Everyone waited.

Finally, Daniel spoke. “Found something.”

Selena’s heart lurched. “What?”

He turned the tablet. “External parking lot camera. April 18. 23:47.”

Selena’s breath caught. “That’s the night I lost the pregnancy.”

Keller moved closer. “Play it.”

Daniel hit play.

The screen showed a grainy parking lot. A black car pulled up to the executive entrance. Selena leaned in.

The driver got out.

Even blurry, she saw it was Marcus. He looked younger, but his posture was unmistakable—calm, ready, in control.

“He said he wasn’t in the country,” Selena whispered.

Keller shook his head. “To the board, he claimed he was in New York.”

Daniel rewound. “Wait.”

Footage rolled forward. Marcus walked up, punched in a code, and slipped inside. Alone.

“He had access,” Selena said.

Daniel zoomed in. “Hold up.”

Selena’s pulse raced. “What?”

“There’s more.”

He skipped ahead. 00:32 a.m. The door popped open. Marcus came out—this time escorting a woman.

She moved behind him, face hidden, posture tight.

“That’s her,” Selena said.

Keller frowned. “You sure?”

“It’s got to be. The surrogate.”

Daniel slowed the footage. The woman adjusted her coat—and for a moment, her face appeared.

Selena froze.

Ava Reynolds. Even in blurry video, the resemblance matched the contract photo Keller sent.

“She was there that night,” Keller said quietly.

Selena nodded, voice tight. “Same night everything went sideways for me.”

Daniel paused the playback. “There’s something else.”

He tapped the screen. A timestamp popped up.

Selena stared, then pointed. “Wait. The entry log doesn’t match the medical report.”

Daniel blinked. “Explain.”

She spoke slowly. “The report said I collapsed at 10:15 p.m. Marcus arrived at 11:47 p.m.”

Keller’s face darkened. “So the timeline was manipulated.”

Selena swallowed. “He didn’t just orchestrate the extraction.”

Her voice was low. “He did it after I was unconscious.”

The room fell silent.

Daniel looked between them. “This isn’t a simple cover-up. It’s much deeper.”

Selena stared at the frozen screen.

“No,” she said softly, the truth settling heavy. “This was premeditated.”

She held the image, Marcus’s face under the parking lot light, calm, undisturbed, in control.

For years, she remembered that night as a tragedy. Now she could see it for what it was—execution night for Marcus.

Her phone buzzed.

A text from Marcus: You’re digging into things you won’t understand.

Selena looked at the message, then at Marcus’s frozen face.

“No,” she whispered.

She understood now. She had something Marcus couldn’t erase. Not a document. Not some doctored report. Actual proof—a piece of time. Evidence he was there, evidence he lied. The night she lost her child, Marcus Kingsley walked in just before midnight and left with the truth he always hoped would stay buried.