CHAPTER 19 THE HOUSE BENEATH THE LIGHTHOUSE
The road to St. Orla crossed a narrow strip of stone between the sea and the cliffs.
Waves were already washing across parts of it.
Above the coast, the red lighthouse sent a slow beam through the rain.
The maternity home stood behind it.
The building had once been white, but decades of salt had turned its walls gray.
Several windows were broken.
One upstairs window glowed.
Nathan parked near the entrance.
“No one separates,” he said.
Gabriel checked the weapon he had taken from hospital security.
Vanessa remained close to Evelyn’s wheelchair.
Claire moved first.
“Claire,” Nathan warned.
“My daughter is inside.”
The front door opened before she touched it.
Warm air moved through the abandoned entrance hall.
The building did not smell deserted.
It smelled of disinfectant.
A baby bottle rested on a reception desk.
Milk still clung to the glass.
Claire touched it.
“It’s warm.”
A child cried somewhere above them.
Claire ran toward the staircase.
Nathan caught her before she reached the first landing.
“Listen.”
The crying repeated.
Exactly the same sound.
Exactly the same length.
“A recording,” Gabriel said.
Speakers had been hidden inside the walls.
They searched the upper rooms.
Every nursery was empty.
Fresh blankets had been folded inside several cribs. Cameras were mounted behind smoked glass. Names had been written above the doors.
Some belonged to children.
Others belonged to adults.
Claire found her own name.
Beside it was Nathan’s.
Gabriel’s name appeared twice.
One had been crossed out.
The other had the number Three beside it.
Vanessa discovered a locked service elevator behind the old kitchen.
The Bell Room key opened the panel.
Instead of going upward, the elevator descended.
When the doors opened, a cold corridor stretched beneath the building.
A woman cried from behind a steel door.
Nathan forced it open.
Margaret Whitmore sat on the floor with her wrists bound.
Her expensive clothes were torn. Blood had dried along her temple.
Nathan remained in the doorway.
“Where is my daughter?”
Margaret looked at Claire.
“I tried to stop them.”
Claire entered the room.
“You approved my placement.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“You found the records.”
“You chose my parents.”
“Yes.”
“You arranged for Nathan and me to meet.”
Margaret said nothing.
Nathan’s expression darkened.
“Answer her.”
“Yes.”
Claire stepped back as if Margaret had struck her.
“Why?”
“Because Cole needed the Shaw bloodline connected to the Whitmores.”
“You turned my life into a breeding arrangement?”
“I believed Cole was protecting all of us.”
“From what?”
Margaret looked toward the corridor.
“From the people he created.”
A bell began ringing somewhere below them.
Slow.
Heavy.
Each strike vibrated through the floor.
Gabriel found another door at the end of the corridor.
The brass key opened it.
Inside, an entire wall was covered by a family tree.
Photographs and bloodlines stretched across several generations.
Evelyn stood at the center.
Three lines extended beneath her name.
One led to Gabriel.
One led to Gideon.
The final line led to Claire.
Beneath Claire’s photograph was an image taken inside the delivery room only hours earlier.
Her newborn daughter lay in the incubator.
Someone had written:
FINAL HEIR CONFIRMED.
Below it:
TRANSFER IN PROGRESS.
A red light began flashing above the door.
The steel entrance slammed shut behind them.
A woman’s voice came through the speaker.
Veronica.
“The road is already underwater.”
Nathan looked toward the ceiling.
“You have nowhere left to run,” Veronica continued.
“You may leave with the child.”
Claire moved beneath the speaker.
“Where is she?”
“One person must remain behind.”
“Who?”
May you like
Veronica answered without hesitation.
“Evelyn Shaw.”
