Chapter 4 - Subject 04
The contents of the safe had survived the fire. Inside were four thick, black leather binders, each labeled with a Roman numeral.
Nolan had pulled Binder II onto the desk, its pages illuminated under the white beam of his flashlight.
Evelyn and I stood over the desk as I flipped open the cover. The first page contained a high-resolution color photograph of Evelyn Ward taken two years ago. She looked younger, her face pale and exhausted, sitting in a hospital bed holding a newborn child wrapped in a pink blanket.
Beneath the photograph was a comprehensive medical profile:
SUBJECT: Ward, Evelyn Rose. AGE: 22. BLOOD TYPE: AB Negative (Rare Phenotype). GENETIC PROFILE: Maternal lineage carries non-active markers for high-cognitive neural adaptability. STATUS: Surrogacy involuntarily finalized.
Evelyn let out a choked sound, her hand flying to her mouth. "Involuntarily finalized? What does that mean? I wasn't a surrogate! I came to this clinic because I was poor, pregnant, and they offered free prenatal care through a state charity grant!"
"Keep reading," I said, my hand trembling as I turned to the next page.
The second document was a formal financial contract executed between Dr. Matthias Keller and Vance Philanthropies.
The terms were spelled out in cold, legalese German: In consideration of the sum of 2.5 million Swiss Francs, Dr. Matthias Keller agrees to secure a genetically selected infant matching the phenotypic requirements of Helena Vance. Maternal rights of the biological host (Evelyn Ward) will be legally extinguished via falsified death certification at birth.
"They stole her," Evelyn screamed, her voice breaking into hysterical sobs that shook her whole body. "They didn't just take her! They planned it! They tracked me for nine months, waiting for me to give birth so they could hand my baby to your wife!"
I couldn't speak. The world felt as though it were tilting violently on its axis.
For four years, I had believed Helena was a loving, tragic figure—a woman whose heart had been broken by infertility, who had poured her soul into adopting a child, and whose sudden death had left me a grieving single father.
In reality, my wife had been a buyer in a human trafficking ring operated out of a elite Swiss medical facility. She had selected Evelyn Ward like an item in a luxury catalog, paid two and a half million dollars of her family’s fortune, and staged a infant death to steal a child.
"There's more, sir," Nolan said softly, pointing to the bottom of the page.
There was a second contract stapled to the back of the binder. It was dated six months after Sophie’s birth—three days before Helena’s fatal car crash.
It was an amendment to the original agreement:
Subject 04 (Sophie) displays advanced neural responsiveness. Vance Enterprises hereby exercises Option B. Secondary biological retrieval scheduled for November 12th.
"Secondary biological retrieval?" I muttered, staring at the phrase. "What does that mean?"
"It means your wife wasn't just buying one baby, Victor," Evelyn whispered, her tears falling onto the dark leather cover. She looked up at me with eyes full of horror. "She was buying the mother, too."
Before I could answer, a soft, mechanical click echoed from the doorway of the archive room.
May you like
The heavy oak door swung shut, and the heavy iron deadbolt clicked into place from the outside.
Then, the high-pitched, metallic hiss of pressurized gas began to leak from the ventilation grate near the ceiling.
