We climbed the stairs in silence.
The general led.
My father followed.
I came last, carrying the box against my chest.
The sentence inside the envelope repeated itself in my mind.
The man who raised you is your father. The man who made you is not.
It should have simplified everything.
Instead, it made the mystery larger.
At the top of the stairs, we entered an abandoned corridor.
The general locked the door behind us.
“Read everything,” he said.
I opened the box again.
The first document was a medical report.
My mother's name appeared at the top.
The date was the day before I was born.
The report described an emergency procedure.
But one section had been blacked out.
The general examined it.
“This was altered.”
My father shook his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“It was altered before your mother received it.”
I looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“She showed it to me.”
“What did she say?”
“She said the doctor had been ordered to change the report.”
“By Voss?”
“We thought so.”
The general turned the page.
A second name appeared.
Dr. Samuel Reed.
My father looked surprised.
“Reed?”
“You know him?”
“He delivered you.”
I stared at the name.
“Is he alive?”
“No.”
“When did he die?”
“Six years after you were born.”
“Was his death investigated?”
My father shook his head.
“Officially, no.”
The general looked at the document.
“Then this may be important.”
He opened another file.
A list of hospital employees appeared.
One name was circled.
Dr. Reed.
Beside it was a handwritten note.
He refused to alter the second record.
My pulse quickened.
“What second record?”
My father looked at me.
“The original.”
“The real birth record.”
“Yes.”
I turned to the general.
“Where is it?”
He pointed to the box.
“Maybe your mother knew.”
I searched through the papers.
Nothing.
Then I found the cassette recorder.
It was old, but intact.
The general examined it.
“No batteries.”
My father reached into the box.
A pair of batteries was taped beneath the lid.
I stared at him.
“She planned everything.”
“Yes.”
He inserted the batteries.
The recorder clicked.
Static filled the corridor.
Then my mother's voice came through.
I hadn't heard it in twenty-six years.
My knees nearly gave way.
“I'm recording this because paper can be stolen, and people can be threatened. A voice is harder to erase if someone knows where to look.”
I covered my mouth.
My father looked away.
Her voice continued.
“If my daughter ever hears this, she needs to understand that her father made a choice I asked him to make.”
My father closed his eyes.
“He will tell you he left because he was afraid.”
A pause.
“He was.”
Another pause.
“But fear was not the reason.”
I looked at my father.
He couldn't meet my eyes.
My mother's voice continued.
“He left because I asked him to make himself the villain.”
I swallowed.
“I knew they were watching us. I knew they had access to records, money, and people. If they believed my daughter hated her father, they would have less reason to use him to reach her.”
Her voice became quieter.
“I also knew that someday she would search for him.”
The recording crackled.
“That is why I left clues.”
I looked at the box.
“The first clue is the photograph.”
The general listened carefully.
“The second is the box.”
My mother's voice paused.
“The third is the person who knows why both were hidden.”
The recording stopped.
I stared at the recorder.
“That's it?”
My father nodded.
“She always spoke in fragments when she believed she was being monitored.”
I looked through the box again.
A folded piece of paper was tucked beneath the cassette.
I opened it.
Three names.
My father's.
Voss's.
And Dr. Reed's.
Beside Reed's name was one word.
Witness.
The general looked at it.
“Witness to what?”
I found another paper.
This one contained a date.
The day I was born.
Underneath was a sentence.
Reed witnessed the transfer.
“What transfer?”
My father read the page.
His expression changed.
“Your mother.”
“What about her?”
“She was supposed to leave the hospital that night.”
“But she didn't.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because someone intercepted her.”
The general looked at the records.
“Who?”
My father pointed to a handwritten symbol.
“That's Voss's mark.”
I looked at him.
“You recognize it?”
“Yes.”
“What does it mean?”
“Safe transfer.”
I stared at the paper.
“Then why did he intercept her?”
“He didn't.”
I looked up.
My father had gone pale.
“Then who did?”
He looked at the third name.
“Reed.”
The general shook his head.
“Reed was helping her.”
“Maybe.”
I looked at the evidence.
Nothing fit.
My mother had trusted Reed.
My father had trusted Voss.
Someone had changed the birth records.
Someone had wanted me hidden.
Someone had killed my mother.
And now someone had manipulated my military file to bring me here.
The general's phone vibrated.
He read a message.
“The official who sent your assignment has left the building.”
“Where?”
“Airport.”
“Is he leaving the country?”
“Unknown.”
My father looked at me.
“He knows we found the box.”
“How?”
“Because Voss knows.”
I opened another document.
A photograph fell out.
It showed Dr. Reed standing beside my mother.
Behind them was a hospital room.
A newborn baby lay in a bassinet.
Me.
But there was another person reflected in the window.
A man standing outside.
I enlarged the photograph.
My father recognized him.
“Mercer.”
The general looked at him.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“But Mercer was supposedly dead.”
“I know.”
I looked at the photograph.
“If Mercer was alive, why did Voss say he was dead?”
“Because Voss needed him to disappear.”
“Why?”
The general answered.
“Maybe Mercer knew who your biological father was.”
My father shook his head.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Mercer wasn't the father.”
I stared at him.
“How do you know?”
My father took the photograph.
He turned it over.
A note was written on the back.
Mercer delivered the sample.
I looked at my father.
“What sample?”
He didn't answer.
The general did.
“A DNA sample.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“Whose?”
My father finally spoke.
“Yours.”
“When?”
“The day you were born.”
“Why?”
“To determine your parentage.”
I stared at him.
“Did they test it?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
My father looked at the floor.
“They said I was your father.”
I felt relief before suspicion replaced it.
“Who said that?”
“Voss.”
The general's face hardened.
“Did you ever see the actual result?”
“No.”
I looked at the box.
There had to be something else.
I searched beneath the documents.
My fingers found a hidden compartment.
I pressed it.
A small envelope slid out.
It contained a laboratory report.
I unfolded it.
The result was unmistakable.
My biological father was listed as my father.
The report was signed by Dr. Reed.
My father's eyes filled.
He whispered,
“I knew it.”
I looked at the date.
The report had been issued one day after my birth.
Then I saw something else.
The laboratory number did not match the hospital record.
I showed it to the general.
He examined it.
“This sample was switched.”
My father stared at him.
“What?”
“The laboratory number belongs to another patient.”
I looked at the report again.
The man who raised me was my father.
But someone had falsified the proof.
The general looked toward the corridor.
“We need an independent test.”
My father shook his head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if Voss wanted the wrong result preserved, then the original sample may still exist.”
“Where?”
My father looked at me.
“Your mother knew.”
I closed the box.
“Then we're going back to the hospital.”
The general shook his head.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because someone just locked down every road leading to the building.”
My father looked toward the window.
A convoy was approaching.
Not ours.
Black vehicles stopped outside.
My father whispered,
“They found us.”
The general raised his weapon.
Then the phone rang.
A number appeared on the screen.
The general answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a voice said,
“You have ten minutes to surrender the box.”
The general looked at me.
I held it tighter.
The voice continued.
“Or the man you call your father will never learn who betrayed him.”
The line went dead.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: Ten Minutes Was All We Had to Discover the Truth, and My Father Finally Named the Person Who Had Betrayed My Mother
The Day My Father Looked Straight at Me in Uniform and Ordered Me to Become a Stranger
Part 10 of 12
