Chapter 8: The Fourth Child
I couldn't breathe.
“Dad, what did you just say?””
My father's voice remained calm.
“Your mother should have told you about the family years ago.””
“My mother?””
“Before she died, she knew what Richard Mitchell had become.””
I closed my eyes.
My mother had died when I was seventeen.
A heart attack, according to the doctors.
My father had raised me alone afterward.
“Stop playing games,” I said.
“Tell me where Grace is.””
“Come to the old family house. You'll understand everything.””
“I want proof you're alive.””
A quiet laugh.
“Look in the grandfather clock.””
The line disconnected.
Detective Bennett immediately instructed an officer to trace the call.
But I was already remembering something.
The old family house had been sold after my father's supposed death.
However, I still owned the property next door, which contained the original workshop and storage building.
My father had built both with his own hands.
We drove there with two officers.
The property looked abandoned.
Grass had swallowed the driveway. The windows were covered with dust, and the front gate hung from one hinge.
Inside the main house, everything smelled of damp wood.
The grandfather clock stood in the hallway.
Its hands were frozen at 11:45.
I opened the lower compartment.
A small metal box sat behind the pendulum.
Inside was a collection of photographs.
My childhood pictures.
Claire's wedding photograph.
A picture of Emma's first birthday.
And photographs of Lily and Grace.
My father had been watching all of us.
For years.
Detective Bennett examined the photographs.
“Some of these were taken recently.””
I picked up one showing Lily outside the hospital.
The photograph had been taken that morning.
My hands began shaking.
“He knows where she is.””
Then I noticed a folded piece of paper at the bottom of the box.
It contained a list of names.
Beside each name was an amount of money.
Robert Hayes.
Thomas Reed.
Melissa Mitchell.
And beneath them:
Ryan Mitchell — $0.
I stared at the list.
“What does this mean?””
Detective Bennett examined the document.
“Payments. Your father was paying these people.””
“Why am I listed?””
She didn't answer.
Instead, she pulled out another paper.
It was a copy of my birth certificate.
The name of my father was printed clearly.
Richard Mitchell.
But there was something unusual.
The document had been amended twice.
The original birth record showed another man's name.
A man named James Carter.
I turned toward Detective Bennett.
“What is this?””
She examined the document.
“Your legal father may not be your biological father.””
The room seemed to shrink around me.
“That's impossible.””
Then a voice came from the workshop.
“It's not impossible, Ryan.””
We spun around.
A man stood in the doorway.
Older.
Thinner.
But unmistakable.
My father.
He wore a dark coat and held a walking stick.
I felt every memory of my childhood collide with the man standing before me.
“Richard Mitchell,” Detective Bennett said firmly.
“You're going to come with us.””
He smiled.
“Laura. Still asking questions nobody wants answered?””
She reached for her weapon.
“Keep your hands visible.””
My father ignored her.
He looked at me.
“Son, I know this is confusing.””
I stepped forward.
“Are you my father?””
He sighed.
“I raised you. I fed you. I paid for your education. I gave you everything.””
“That's not what I asked.””
His expression hardened.
“No.””
The single word cut deeper than I expected.
He continued.
“Your biological father was James Carter. Claire's father knew him. That's why she eventually discovered the truth.””
I shook my head.
“Then why did you raise me?””
“Because I loved your mother.””
“Did you kill her?””
His face changed.
“No. But I should have stopped what happened to her.””
Detective Bennett moved closer.
“Mr. Mitchell, you're under investigation for fraud, conspiracy, and multiple suspected crimes.””
My father smiled sadly.
“You still think this is about money.””
He turned toward me.
“Claire discovered the original trust agreement. She realized the children could expose everything.””
“What children?””
He looked at me.
“James Carter had another family. Your biological father's children inherited something far more valuable than money.””
I frowned.
“What?””
“Evidence.””
He reached into his coat.
Detective Bennett immediately ordered him to stop.
Instead, he slowly removed a small photograph and placed it on the clock.
It showed a newborn baby.
A handwritten name appeared beneath it.
Emma Mitchell.
My daughter.
I stared at the picture.
“Why do you have Emma's baby photograph?””
My father looked almost amused.
“Because Emma was never supposed to be born into this family.””
My stomach turned.
“What are you talking about?””
He leaned closer.
“Ask Melissa who Emma's biological mother really is.””
I felt my blood turn cold.
Melissa had given birth to Emma.
I'd been there in the delivery room.
I'd held her tiny hand.
I'd watched her take her first breath.
But my father was saying something else.
Something impossible.
Then he pointed toward the photograph.
“Look at the date, Ryan.””
I checked it.
October 18.
The same date Claire had written on Grace's photograph.
The same day Grace was born.
I looked at my father.
“Why does Emma's birth photograph have the same date as Grace's?””
His expression became serious.
“Because one of those babies was switched.””
Detective Bennett immediately stepped between us.
“That's enough.””
But my father wasn't finished.
“Your wife knows which one.””
Then two police officers rushed into the house.
One of them shouted that they had located Melissa.
She was sitting inside a car near the property.
Alone.
When they brought her in, she looked directly at me.
And before anyone could ask a question, she whispered:
“Ryan, please don't let them take Emma.””
I grabbed her shoulders.
“What did you do?””
May you like
She began crying.
“Emma isn't who you think she is.””
