Chapter 9 - The Sixteen Before HerElise Carter would only meet in public.
Not because she thought public places were safe.
Because she wanted witnesses if she disappeared.
That was how she said it.
If I disappear.
Not if something happens to me.
Not if I get hurt.
Disappear.
Like the other people connected to my father’s work.
Luka did not want me to go.
I went anyway.
Not alone.
Never alone again.
Mara stayed with Mila in the apartment behind three locked doors and two armed guards. My mother stayed too, though every instinct in me hated leaving my daughter even for an hour.
But Elise had proof of the sixteen babies before Mila.
And if I was going to fight monsters, I needed to know how many graves they had already dug.
We met in a church basement during a community lunch.
Luka called it smart.
“Cameras outside. Volunteers inside. Too many old ladies watching everything.”
He was right.
No one noticed criminals faster than church grandmothers.
Elise Carter was in her sixties, thin, with trembling hands and eyes that had carried guilt for too long. She hugged a canvas purse to her body and stared at Luka like she knew exactly what kind of man he was.
“You’re Moretti,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I remember your file.”
He said nothing.
She turned to me.
“You look like Henry.”
My throat tightened.
“You knew my father?”
“He tried to stop it.”
Everyone kept saying that.
He tried.
The tragedy of good people was that trying did not always save anyone.
Elise slid a flash drive across the folding table.
“I kept copies.”
Luka’s man took it first, scanned it with a device, then nodded.
Elise opened her purse and pulled out old photographs.
Babies.
Tiny faces.
Hospital bracelets.
M-01 through M-16 written on the backs.
Some names were crossed out.
Some had question marks.
Some had one terrible word.
Unknown.
Elise tapped M-09.
“This boy was born to a girl named Amanda Ruiz. She was sixteen. They told her the baby didn’t survive. Then the baby vanished from the system. Last week I saw a young man beside Senator Thomas Ashford during a campaign interview. Same birthmark. Same eyes. Same surgical scar.”
“Adopted son,” Luka said.
Elise nodded.
“They placed those children with powerful families.”
My stomach rolled.
“Why?”
“Access. Influence. Bloodlines. Some were medical investments. Some were political insurance. Some…” She looked at Luka. “Some were meant to be leverage.”
I looked at the photos.
Sixteen mothers.
Sixteen stolen lives.
Sixteen children raised inside families that may have never known the truth—or may have paid for it.
“And Mila?” I asked.
Elise’s eyes filled.
“M-17 was different.”
“How?”
“Your father changed the protocol before they could finish. He hid something inside the final record. A key. If Mila’s live blood confirms it, the whole network can be exposed.”
Luka cursed softly.
I looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
“It means they don’t just want custody,” he said. “They want blood access.”
My hand went to my chest.
“Blood access?”
Elise nodded grimly.
“A newborn sample. Fresh. Verified. Court-authorized if possible.”
My daughter reduced again to a sample.
I pushed back from the table.
“I need to go back to her.”
Luka stood immediately.
But Elise grabbed my wrist.
“There’s one more thing.”
I looked down at her hand.
She released me quickly.
“Sorry. But you need to hear this.”
“What?”
“Derek Ashford was sterile.”
The words made no sense.
“What?”
“Elise,” Luka warned.
“No, she deserves truth.” Elise opened another folder. “Derek couldn’t father children. The Ashfords knew before the marriage.”
The room spun.
“Then why did he pretend?”
“Because he was never meant to be the father,” Elise said.
I looked at Luka.
He looked away.
The third envelope.
Mila’s DNA.
The truth he did not want me to see.
Elise’s voice dropped.
“Claire, M-17’s biological father was selected years before you married Derek.”
My knees weakened.
Luka reached for me.
I stepped away.
“Who?” I whispered.
May you like
Elise looked at Luka Moretti.
And said nothing at all.
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