Chapter 17 - The Woman Who Gave Birth to Victoria
# Chapter 17 - The Woman Who Gave Birth to Victoria
The woman Victoria Vance had called Mother for thirty-two years was alive.
But she had never given birth to her.
And as the final maternal record appeared on the screens inside Whitmore House, Professor Edward Whitmore realized that the secret he had spent most of his life protecting was no longer his to control.
Beneath the west wing, Margaret Whitmore sat before her computer, watching her daughter's name glow against the screen.
SUBJECT ZERO: VICTORIA WHITMORE VANCE.
BIOLOGICAL MOTHER: IDENTITY RESTRICTED.
Margaret's fingers trembled.
"Not anymore," she whispered.
She entered the original administrator password.
The system requested a second authorization.
Margaret removed a small silver key from the chain around her neck and inserted it into the computer's security reader.
A green indicator illuminated.
MATERNAL RECORD ACCESS GRANTED.
A photograph appeared.
A young woman stood beside a hospital window, holding a newborn baby.
She had auburn hair, pale green eyes, and a delicate face that looked strangely familiar.
Margaret stared at her.
"Forgive me, Eleanor."
Then she pressed the button marked RELEASE.
Outside Whitmore House, Victoria's phone vibrated.
Detective Elena Brooks stood beside her as the new document arrived.
Victoria opened it.
A birth certificate appeared.
Her own.
But the name in the maternal field was not Margaret Whitmore.
It read:
Eleanor Catherine Bell.
Victoria stopped breathing.
"Bell?"
Elena leaned closer.
"Do you recognize the name?"
Victoria shook her head.
"No."
Then she remembered Catherine Bell.
The woman who had given birth to Thomas.
The woman Charles had loved, betrayed, and imprisoned.
The woman who had recently returned to confront him.
Victoria looked up.
"Elena, Catherine's surname is Bell."
The detective's expression changed.
"That could be significant."
Victoria stared at the document.
"Could Eleanor be related to her?"
"We'll need to verify the relationship."
Another attachment appeared.
A photograph.
The young woman with auburn hair stood beside Edward Whitmore.
He was much younger.
His arm rested around her shoulders.
Both were smiling.
Victoria enlarged the image.
Something about Eleanor's face unsettled her.
The shape of her mouth.
The curve of her eyebrows.
The same pale green eyes she had seen in photographs of Catherine.
Victoria whispered:
"Oh, God."
Elena looked toward her.
"What?"
Victoria's voice trembled.
"What if Catherine and I are related?"
At the Vance estate, Catherine Bell watched Charles answer another call.
His expression changed almost immediately.
"What do you mean the maternal records have been released?"
A voice spoke urgently through the phone.
Charles closed his eyes.
"Who authorized it?"
A pause.
"Margaret?"
He turned toward Catherine.
For several seconds, he simply stared at her.
Then he ended the call.
Catherine frowned.
"What happened?"
Charles looked pale.
"There's something I should have told you years ago."
She laughed bitterly.
"That describes most of our relationship."
He did not smile.
"Catherine, what do you know about your mother?"
She froze.
"My mother?"
"Yes."
Catherine studied him.
"She died when I was little."
"Who told you that?"
"My father."
Charles looked away.
Catherine felt a chill.
"Why are you asking?"
He hesitated.
"Her name was Eleanor."
Catherine's stomach tightened.
"Eleanor Bell."
Charles nodded.
She stared at him.
"How do you know my mother's name?"
He closed his eyes.
"Because Edward Whitmore knew her."
Catherine stepped closer.
"What does Edward have to do with my mother?"
Charles looked toward his computer.
A new document had appeared.
He turned the screen toward her.
Catherine read it.
Biological Mother: Eleanor Catherine Bell.
Child: Victoria Whitmore.
For several seconds, she could not understand what she was seeing.
Then her hands began trembling.
"No."
Charles said nothing.
Catherine looked up.
"Victoria?"
He nodded.
Catherine stared at him.
"You're saying Victoria is my mother's daughter?"
"Yes."
"Then..."
Her voice broke.
Charles looked away.
Catherine whispered:
"Victoria is my sister?"
He hesitated.
"Possibly your half-sister. The records suggest Eleanor gave birth to Victoria before you were born."
Catherine stepped backward.
The room seemed to tilt.
For years, she had believed she was an only child.
Her father had told her that her mother died from complications following an illness.
There had been no photographs of siblings.
No stories about another daughter.
Nothing.
And now Charles was telling her that Victoria—the woman whose husband had fathered Thomas with Catherine—might be her own sister.
Catherine pressed a hand against her mouth.
"Oh, God."
Charles moved toward her.
She immediately stepped away.
"Don't touch me."
"Catherine—"
"You knew?"
He hesitated.
She stared at him.
"Charles."
His silence answered.
Catherine's face crumpled.
"You knew when we met."
He looked down.
"You knew I was related to Victoria."
"Catherine, I didn't have the full records—"
"But you suspected."
Charles said nothing.
She began crying.
"You let me fall in love with you."
His expression tightened.
"You let me believe you were leaving your wife."
"Catherine—"
"And all that time, you knew she might be my sister."
Charles looked away.
Catherine felt something inside her break.
Then another realization struck.
Thomas.
Her son.
Charles's son.
Victoria's adopted son.
If the maternal records were accurate, Victoria had unknowingly raised her own nephew.
Catherine staggered toward the desk.
Charles reached for her.
She shoved his hand away.
"Don't."
Her voice was barely audible.
"Don't ever touch me again."
Inside Whitmore House, Emily stared at the maternal identity record.
Sophia stood beside her.
The woman in the green coat watched silently.
Edward Whitmore had stopped speaking.
Emily turned toward him.
"Victoria isn't Margaret's daughter?"
He shook his head.
"No."
"Then who is she?"
Edward looked toward the screen.
"Eleanor's."
Sophia frowned.
"Who was Eleanor?"
Edward closed his eyes.
For several seconds, he remained silent.
Then he whispered:
"The woman I loved before Margaret."
Emily stared at him.
"You had an affair?"
Edward looked up.
"No."
He hesitated.
"Eleanor and I were together before I married Margaret."
Sophia crossed her arms.
"Then why did Margaret raise Victoria?"
Edward's hands trembled.
"Because Eleanor disappeared."
Emily felt a chill.
"Disappeared?"
He nodded.
"Shortly after Victoria was born."
The woman in green stepped closer.
"Did you make her disappear?"
Edward looked sharply at her.
"No."
She stared at him.
"Then what happened?"
Edward looked away.
"I don't know."
Emily laughed bitterly.
"That's convenient."
His expression hardened.
"Emily, there are things you don't understand."
She stepped closer.
"Then explain them."
Edward stared at her.
The girl he had imprisoned.
The child whose identity he had manipulated.
The daughter he had hidden beneath a false name.
He could no longer pretend she was incapable of understanding.
"Eleanor worked with me on the earliest neurological research," he began.
Sophia frowned.
"Before Project Eve?"
"Yes."
"Was she a scientist?"
Edward nodded.
"A brilliant one."
Emily looked toward the screen.
"What did she discover?"
Edward hesitated.
"That some of our assumptions about memory were wrong."
The woman in green leaned forward.
"How?"
Edward looked down.
"We believed memories could be suppressed without fundamentally changing a person's identity."
"And?"
"She discovered that repeated interference could produce severe psychological consequences."
Emily felt sick.
"So she tried to stop the research."
Edward nodded.
"Yes."
Sophia stared at him.
"And then she disappeared."
Edward said nothing.
Emily's expression hardened.
"Just like Rebecca."
He closed his eyes.
"Yes."
At St. Catherine's Medical Center, Rebecca Reed sat beside Daniel while a nurse examined the boy's injuries.
Thomas and Noah remained nearby under police protection.
Daniel looked toward the doorway.
"Is my mother coming?"
Rebecca took his hand.
"She's trying."
He looked down.
"Is she angry?"
"Why would she be?"
"Because I ran away."
Rebecca's heart broke.
"Daniel, you escaped from people who were keeping you somewhere against your will."
He considered that.
"Dr. Price said I was sick."
Rebecca nodded.
"She may have believed you needed medical care, but that doesn't justify what happened to you."
Daniel stared at her.
Then he whispered:
"Sometimes they called me someone else."
Rebecca felt a chill.
"What name?"
He hesitated.
"Different names."
"Can you remember any?"
Daniel closed his eyes.
"Samuel."
Rebecca froze.
"What?"
"Sometimes they called me Samuel."
Her heart began pounding.
She had seen that name before.
In the original Gemini records.
A child designated as a replacement subject.
Rebecca leaned closer.
"Daniel, who called you Samuel?"
He looked frightened.
"The doctors."
"Which doctors?"
He hesitated.
"Dr. Mercer."
Rebecca's stomach tightened.
She looked toward the boy.
His dark hair.
His pale skin.
His thin wrists.
The years of medical procedures.
She had assumed he was Victoria's second son because the records suggested it.
But the anonymous DNA report contradicted that claim.
And now the boy remembered being called by another name.
Rebecca felt sick.
"Daniel," she whispered, "do you remember anything before the basement?"
He shook his head.
"No."
"Any family?"
He thought for a long moment.
Then nodded.
"A woman."
Rebecca leaned closer.
"What woman?"
"She had red hair."
Rebecca froze.
"Red?"
Daniel nodded.
"She sang to me."
Rebecca's pulse quickened.
"What did she sing?"
He hesitated.
Then began humming softly.
Rebecca recognized the melody.
The same lullaby Victoria had received in the anonymous recording.
But the voice Daniel remembered might not have belonged to Victoria.
Rebecca looked toward the window.
For the first time, she wondered whether the boy she had rescued was connected to Catherine Bell.
Or to someone even further back in the family's history.
At 12:36 p.m., Detective Brooks received confirmation that officers had opened an external service entrance at Whitmore House.
She immediately contacted the team.
"Proceed carefully. Prioritize locating the individuals inside and securing any medical records."
Victoria stood beside her.
"Can I go in?"
"Not until the building is cleared."
Victoria's expression tightened.
"My mother is inside."
Elena looked toward her.
"Margaret is inside."
Victoria froze.
The distinction hurt.
Elena softened.
"Victoria, I know Margaret raised you. I'm not questioning what she means to you."
Victoria looked toward the mansion.
For thirty-two years, she had believed Margaret was dead.
Now she had learned that Margaret was alive but not her biological mother.
Yet the memories remained.
Margaret brushing her hair.
Margaret reading bedtime stories.
Margaret holding her when she cried.
Victoria wiped her tears.
"She's still my mother."
Elena nodded.
"I understand."
Victoria looked toward the gates.
"And Eleanor?"
"We're trying to establish what happened to her."
Victoria closed her eyes.
Two mothers.
One who gave birth to her.
One who raised her.
Both connected to the same research program.
Both apparently silenced.
And a father who had built his life around controlling what everyone remembered.
Victoria opened her eyes.
"I want to know everything."
Beneath the west wing, Margaret Whitmore watched the security feed.
Police officers had entered the mansion.
The automated system was still active, but the external doors had been breached.
Margaret knew she had little time.
She opened another file.
PROJECT EVE — ORIGINAL MATERNAL INCIDENT.
A photograph appeared.
Eleanor Bell.
Auburn hair.
Pale green eyes.
Smiling beside a newborn Victoria.
Margaret touched the screen.
"You deserved better."
She opened the next document.
A medical transfer order.
Patient: Eleanor Catherine Bell.
Destination: Private Research Unit.
Authorized by: Edward Whitmore.
Margaret's hands began trembling.
For years, Edward had told her Eleanor left voluntarily.
Then he claimed she died.
Then he refused to discuss her at all.
But Margaret had eventually discovered the transfer order.
And something worse.
A second document.
Patient Status: Active.
Dated only six months earlier.
Margaret stared at it.
Eleanor might still be alive.
She had known that possibility for months.
But she had been too frightened to investigate.
Now Victoria was outside.
The police were inside.
And Edward's secrets were collapsing.
Margaret reached for her phone.
She dialed an old number.
It rang once.
Twice.
Then a woman's voice answered.
"Hello?"
Margaret stopped breathing.
"Eleanor?"
A long silence followed.
Then the woman whispered:
"Margaret?"
Tears filled Margaret's eyes.
"Oh, thank God."
The voice sounded older.
Weaker.
But unmistakable.
"Why are you calling?"
Margaret swallowed.
"Victoria knows."
Silence.
Then Eleanor whispered:
"She remembers?"
"Not everything."
A shaky breath.
"Does she know I'm her mother?"
"Yes."
Eleanor began crying.
Margaret closed her eyes.
"She's coming."
The woman on the other end struggled to speak.
"Margaret..."
"Yes?"
"Don't let Edward reach her."
Margaret felt a chill.
"Why?"
Eleanor's voice trembled.
"Because he still has the original files."
Margaret frowned.
"What files?"
A pause.
Then Eleanor whispered:
"The ones showing what happened to Victoria before she was born."
Margaret stopped breathing.
"Before she was born?"
"Yes."
Margaret gripped the phone.
"Eleanor, what are you talking about?"
The woman's voice broke.
"Victoria wasn't the first child."
Margaret stared at the wall.
"What?"
Eleanor began crying harder.
"Edward told me the first baby died."
Margaret felt sick.
"Another child?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
Eleanor hesitated.
Then whispered:
"A boy."
Margaret's heart pounded.
"Where is he?"
Eleanor's voice became barely audible.
"I don't know."
A long silence followed.
Then she said:
"But if he's alive, Victoria has an older brother."
Inside Edward's study, Emily watched the old professor open another file.
Sophia stood beside her.
The woman in green had become strangely quiet.
Edward looked exhausted.
"There's something else you need to understand," he said.
Emily crossed her arms.
"Another secret?"
He nodded.
Sophia laughed bitterly.
"Of course."
Edward looked toward the screen.
"Eleanor had a child before Victoria."
Emily froze.
"A son?"
He nodded.
Sophia stared at him.
"What happened to him?"
Edward looked down.
"He was transferred to a private medical facility."
"Why?"
"Because he was born with a condition that required specialized care."
Emily felt a chill.
"That's what you said about all of us."
Edward closed his eyes.
"I know."
Sophia stepped closer.
"Did he survive?"
Edward hesitated.
"I was told he didn't."
Emily stared at him.
"By whom?"
Edward looked away.
"Charles's father."
Sophia frowned.
"Charles's father?"
Edward nodded.
"Alexander Vance."
The room fell silent.
Emily looked toward the screen.
Alexander Vance had died years earlier.
At least, that was what the public records claimed.
Sophia leaned forward.
"What did he have to do with Eleanor's baby?"
Edward's expression changed.
"He funded the original research."
Emily felt sick.
"So the Vance family was involved before Charles?"
Edward nodded.
"Long before."
Sophia stared at him.
"And the baby?"
Edward looked toward the window.
"He disappeared."
Emily stepped closer.
"Where?"
Edward hesitated.
Then whispered:
"Into the Vance family."
At 1:04 p.m., Victoria received another anonymous message.
A photograph appeared.
A young boy standing beside Alexander Vance.
The boy looked approximately ten.
Dark hair.
Serious expression.
A familiar face.
Victoria stared at the image.
Her breath caught.
She recognized the boy.
Not from childhood.
From adulthood.
She had seen that face in photographs.
On television.
At charity events.
And in her own home.
The boy had grown into a man she knew intimately.
Victoria's hands began trembling.
"No..."
Elena leaned closer.
"What is it?"
Victoria showed her the photograph.
The detective studied it.
Then her expression changed.
"Is that Charles?"
Victoria shook her head.
"No."
She looked again.
The boy resembled Charles.
But there were differences.
The eyes.
The mouth.
The shape of the jaw.
Victoria had seen those features somewhere else.
Then she remembered.
Richard Hale.
Charles's head of security.
The man who had spent twelve years protecting the Vance family.
The man who had watched her children.
The man who had allowed Rebecca to escape.
Victoria stared at the photograph.
The boy was Richard.
A second message appeared.
Eleanor's firstborn son survived.
Victoria stopped breathing.
Another message followed.
Alexander Vance raised him under a false identity.
Victoria's knees weakened.
Elena caught her.
"Victoria?"
She could barely speak.
"Richard..."
The detective frowned.
"What about him?"
Victoria held up the phone.
"My father's security chief..."
She swallowed.
"He's my brother."
At the Vance estate, Richard Hale stood outside Charles's office.
He had just received a message.
A photograph.
A boy standing beside Alexander Vance.
His childhood.
A life he barely remembered.
Then a second message appeared.
Victoria knows.
Richard closed his eyes.
For years, he had served Charles.
Protected him.
Followed orders he despised.
Because Alexander Vance had raised him to believe loyalty was everything.
But Richard had never known the truth about his birth.
Not until Rebecca showed him the original records.
Not until he discovered that Eleanor Bell was his mother.
And Victoria was his younger sister.
He looked toward the office door.
Inside, Charles and Catherine were arguing.
Richard reached into his jacket.
He removed his security badge.
Then his weapon.
He placed both on a nearby table.
For the first time in twelve years, he was walking away from Charles Vance.
But before he could leave, his phone rang.
An unknown number.
He answered.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice spoke.
"Richard?"
He froze.
The voice was weak.
Older.
But familiar from a recording Rebecca had played for him.
"Eleanor?"
A long silence followed.
Then the woman began crying.
"My son."
Richard gripped the phone.
"Mother?"
She sobbed.
"Oh, Richard."
His eyes filled.
For the first time in his life, he heard his biological mother speak his name.
Then her voice changed.
"Richard, listen carefully."
He straightened.
"What is it?"
"Victoria is in danger."
His heart pounded.
"From Charles?"
"No."
Richard froze.
"Then who?"
Eleanor's voice trembled.
"From the man who raised you."
Richard stopped breathing.
"Alexander?"
"Yes."
He stared at the wall.
"Alexander