Chapter 3 BLOOD SECRETS

# CHAPTER 3: "BLOOD SECRETS"

The Bethesda Fountain stood silent and ghostly under the midnight moon, its angel statue casting long shadows across the deserted plaza. I'd arrived early, positioning myself in the darkness where I could observe all approaches. Five years of living as a hunted woman had taught me never to enter any situation without multiple escape routes.

"He's late," I murmured to myself, checking the slim watch on my wrist. Victor Stone was many things—calculating, ambitious, morally flexible—but never late. Something was wrong.

A soft rustling sound from behind a nearby tree made me tense. I slipped my hand into my coat pocket, fingers closing around the small taser I never went without.

"Ms. Lipsey," came Victor's familiar voice, though strained in a way I'd never heard before. "I apologize for the theatrics."

He emerged from the shadows, limping slightly. Even in the dim light, I could see blood staining the sleeve of his expensive suit.

"You're injured," I stated flatly, not moving to help him. Trust was a luxury I couldn't afford.

"Haven's new security detail is more... thorough than anticipated." He reached inside his jacket, and I tightened my grip on the taser. But he only removed a small flash drive, holding it out to me. "Everything you asked for, plus something I think you'll find particularly interesting."

I took the drive, careful not to touch his fingers. "What happened?"

"Haven has been unstable since your little media stunt yesterday. She's convinced someone from Louie's past is trying to destroy her." His lips curved in a humorless smile. "She's not entirely wrong, is she?"

"Why help me, Victor? You've been loyal to Louie for over a decade."

He looked away, his expression hardening. "Let's just say I have my reasons for wanting the Wagner empire to crumble. That drive contains account records showing a twenty-million-dollar transfer to Haven's father on the night your mother disappeared. The timing is... suggestive."

My heart pounded painfully against my ribs. "You're telling me Haven's father was paid to make my mother disappear?"

"I'm not telling you anything. The documents speak for themselves." He checked his watch. "I need to get back before they notice I'm gone. Haven has called an emergency board meeting for tomorrow morning."

"About what?"

"You." His eyes met mine directly. "She's going to announce that Scarlett Lipsey is alive and threatening the company. She's mobilizing every resource at her disposal to find you."

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I felt a chill run down my spine. "She can't know I'm alive. Not for certain."

"She doesn't need certainty, just enough suspicion to unleash the dogs." Victor turned to go, then paused. "One more thing. Louie's condition has stabilized. The doctors are saying he might regain consciousness soon."

That was unexpected—the poison Alexander and I had developed was supposed to keep him incapacitated for at least another week. We needed more time.

"Thank you for the warning," I said.

Victor nodded once before melting back into the shadows, leaving me alone with the flash drive that might finally reveal the truth about my mother's fate.

---

Back at the penthouse, Alexander was waiting for me, still dressed despite the late hour. His small face was pinched with anxiety that no five-year-old should feel.

"Did you get it?" he asked immediately.

I held up the flash drive. "Everything we need and more. But we have a complication. Your father's condition is improving."

Alexander's expression darkened. "The poison should have kept him under longer. They must have found a countermeasure."

"We'll adapt," I assured him, moving to the computer setup in his room. "Right now, let's see what Victor brought us."

The files were extensive—financial records, medical reports, emails, and surveillance footage dating back seven years. I started with the financial records, and there it was: a wire transfer of twenty million dollars from an offshore account to Richard Matthews, Haven's father, dated the exact night my mother vanished.

"This proves Haven's father was involved," I murmured, "but it doesn't tell us who paid him or what exactly happened to my mother."

Alexander pointed to another folder labeled "Medical." "Try there."

The medical files were encrypted, but it took Alexander less than ten minutes to break through. What we found made my blood run cold.

"Mom," Alexander whispered, his voice small. "These are organ harvesting records."

My mother hadn't just disappeared—she'd been killed for her organs. The records showed a perfectly healthy set of kidneys, liver, heart, and corneas, all harvested from a "Jane Doe" who matched my mother's blood type and age.

"Haven needed a kidney," Alexander said, connecting the dots. "Her father arranged for your mother to be..."

"Murdered," I finished, a cold rage settling over me. "Haven's father had my mother killed so his daughter could have her kidney."

I scrolled through more documents, finding a medical report on Haven from seven years ago. She'd been diagnosed with polycystic kidney disease, a condition that would eventually require transplantation. Rather than wait on a donor list like everyone else, the Matthews family had simply bought what they needed.

"There's an email here," Alexander said, opening another file. "From Haven to her father, sent the day before your mother disappeared. It says, 'Find me a match or I'll tell Louie everything.'"

Blackmail. Haven had blackmailed her own father into finding her a kidney donor, regardless of the cost in human life.

"And Louie?" I wondered aloud. "Did he know?"

Alexander continued searching through the files until he found a series of text messages between Louie and Haven from that period. In them, Haven claimed she'd found a donor through "proper channels" and that everything was "completely legal." Louie had asked few questions, concerned only that his fiancée receive the treatment she needed.

"He might not have known about your mother specifically," Alexander conceded, "but he didn't ask questions either. That makes him complicit."

I sat back, letting the full weight of the revelation sink in. My mother had been murdered for her organs. Haven had worn one of her kidneys for seven years. And now, I was wearing Haven's face—or rather, she was wearing mine, surgically altered to match the woman she'd helped destroy.

The sick symmetry of it all was not lost on me.

"We need to accelerate our plan," I said finally. "Victor says Haven is calling a board meeting tomorrow to announce that I'm alive and threatening the company. She's sending people to hunt for us."

Alexander's eyes widened. "But that means—"

"It means we don't have the luxury of waiting." I stood up, determination hardening within me. "Tomorrow, we force a confrontation with Louie."

---

The next morning, I dressed with particular care—a Chanel suit in deep burgundy, my hair styled simply, minimal makeup. I wanted Louie to recognize me instantly, to see the woman he'd left to drown staring back at him from behind Haven's security measures.

"Are you ready?" I asked Alexander as I helped him with his tie. I'd dressed him in a miniature version of Louie's preferred style—dark suit, blue tie, gold cufflinks.

He nodded solemnly. "I've practiced everything you taught me. I know what to say."

I kissed his forehead. "Remember, no matter what happens in that room, I will protect you. Always."

"I know, Mom." His small hand squeezed mine. "We protect each other."

The drive to New York Presbyterian took less than fifteen minutes. I'd timed our arrival to coincide with the shift change in security—a window of vulnerability Alexander had identified through his monitoring of the hospital's systems.

We slipped past the front desk while the receptionist was distracted by a delivery, then took the service elevator to the VIP floor where Louie was being treated. Alexander had already disabled the security cameras on that floor for a three-minute window—just enough time for us to reach Louie's room undetected.

Outside his door, I paused, my heart hammering against my ribs. Five years of planning, of building my strength and resources, all for this moment. I took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

Louie Wagner lay in the hospital bed, looking smaller than I remembered. Tubes and monitors surrounded him, the steady beep of his heart monitor filling the silent room. His eyes were closed, face pale against the white pillows.

Alexander squeezed my hand as we approached the bed. He'd seen photos of his father, but this was the first time he was seeing him in person. I watched his small face for signs of emotion, but he maintained the perfect mask I'd taught him to wear.

"Louie," I said softly. "Wake up. You have visitors."

His eyelids fluttered but didn't open.

"I said, wake up." I reached for the pain medication drip beside his bed and pinched it closed. "I've come a long way to see you."

Slowly, Louie's eyes opened, unfocused at first, then sharpening as they landed on my face. Recognition dawned, followed by confusion, then fear.

"Scarlett?" he whispered, voice raspy from disuse. "You're dead. You're supposed to be dead."

"Disappointed?" I asked coolly. "Sorry to ruin your perfect murder."

He tried to reach for the call button, but I was faster, moving it out of his reach. "No, no. We're going to have a private conversation, just the three of us."

"Three?" His gaze shifted to Alexander, who stood perfectly still beside me. For a moment, Louie seemed puzzled, then his eyes widened as he took in the child's features—a miniature version of himself.

"Impossible," he breathed. "You're lying. That can't be—"

"Your son?" I finished for him. "DNA doesn't lie, Louie. Though I'm sure you'll want to verify it yourself."

As if on cue, Alexander reached into his small briefcase and removed a document folder. "I took the liberty of having the test done already, Father," he said, his voice steady and clear. "99.9% match to you. Would you like to see the results?"

Louie stared at the child, shock evident on his face. "How old are you?"

"Five years and two months," Alexander answered promptly. "I was born eight months after you tried to kill my mother."

I could see Louie's mind working, calculating dates, remembering that night on the cliff. "If what you're saying is true," he said slowly, "why come back now? Why not stay hidden?"

"Because you're dying," I replied simply. "And I wanted to watch."

"The poison," he realized, eyes narrowing. "It was you."

Alexander smiled, a chilling expression on his young face. "A special blend, designed to mimic a rare autoimmune disorder. Untraceable in standard toxicology screens. I developed it myself."

Louie's gaze darted between us, disbelief warring with growing horror. "You're using a child—my child—as a weapon?"

"I'm not using him," I corrected. "I'm teaching him. The way you would have if you'd known he existed. Isn't that right, Louie? You would have molded him into your perfect heir."

"This is insane," Louie muttered, reaching again for the call button.

I caught his wrist, my grip tight enough to make him wince. "We're not finished yet. I have questions, and you're going to answer them."

"I don't know anything about your supposed child," he spat.

"Not about Alexander. About my mother."

His brow furrowed. "Your mother? What does she have to do with anything?"

"Haven is wearing her kidney," I said bluntly. "My mother was murdered so Haven could have her organ. Did you know?"

Genuine confusion crossed his face. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play stupid," I hissed. "Haven's kidney transplant seven years ago—the donor was my mother. Richard Matthews was paid twenty million dollars the night she disappeared."

Louie's confusion seemed to deepen. "Haven had a transplant from an anonymous donor. She told me it was arranged through proper channels."

"And you believed her? You didn't question where a perfect match magically appeared exactly when she needed it?"

"I had no reason to—" He stopped abruptly, something dawning in his eyes. "The night your mother disappeared... Haven came home late. She was acting strange, nervous."

Alexander pulled out a tablet and began typing rapidly. "What was the date?"

"September 15th, seven years ago," Louie answered automatically, then seemed to catch himself. "Why am I telling you this?"

"Because deep down, you want to know the truth too," I suggested. "You've suspected Haven wasn't what she seemed for years."

A flicker of something—guilt? regret?—crossed his face before he masked it. "What do you want from me, Scarlett? Money? Revenge? What will it take for you and this... child to disappear again?"

"We're not going anywhere," I assured him, perching on the edge of his bed. "In fact, we're going to become a very public problem for you and Haven."

"You can't prove anything. The world thinks you're dead."

I smiled coldly. "The dead have nothing to lose, Louie. Remember that."

A noise in the hallway alerted me that our time was running short. I stood, straightening my suit. "Alexander, it's time for phase two."

My son nodded, placing the DNA test results on Louie's bed. "See you soon, Father."

As we turned to leave, Louie called out, his voice suddenly urgent. "Wait! Scarlett, wait!"

I paused at the door, looking back over my shoulder.

"That scar," he said, pointing to my side where my silk blouse had shifted, revealing a sliver of the crescent-shaped mark I'd carried for years. "How did you get that?"

I considered lying, but there was no point. "A boating accident when I was sixteen. Why?"

Something like recognition flashed across his face. "It can't be," he murmured. "After all this time..."

Before he could say more, the door burst open and a team of nurses rushed in, alerted by his elevated heart rate. In the confusion, Alexander and I slipped out, disappearing down the service stairwell just as Haven's voice echoed down the corridor, demanding to know what was happening.

Outside the hospital, as we climbed into our waiting car, Alexander looked up at me. "What was Father talking about? The scar?"

I touched my side absently. "I don't know. It's just an old injury."

But Louie's reaction troubled me. There had been genuine shock in his eyes, as if my scar meant something to him—something important.

"Mom," Alexander said suddenly, "I think we should move to the next phase immediately. Haven will increase security now that Father has seen us."

I nodded, my mind racing ahead to our next move. "You're right. It's time to make our public debut. Are you ready to meet the board of Wagner Industries?"

A slow, calculating smile spread across his face—so like his father's it was chilling.

"I was born ready," he said.