CHAPTER 2 — THE SECRET ROBERT WRIGHT HAD BURIED FOR TWENTY-SIX YEARS
The nurses stared in disbelief.
They had worked beside Dr. Robert Wright for decades.
They had watched him pronounce deaths.
Deliver thousands of babies.
Comfort grieving parents.
They had never...
Not once...
Seen him cry.
One nurse whispered,
"Doctor... are you alright?"
Robert couldn't answer.
His eyes never left the child.
His hands shook so violently he almost dropped the medical chart.
Behind the baby's tiny left ear...
That birthmark.
Perfectly shaped like a silver crescent moon.
His son Ethan had carried the exact same mark.
Twenty-six years ago.
Robert remembered every detail.
The nursery painted yellow.
His wife Claire singing lullabies.
Tiny Ethan gripping his finger.
Then...
The accident.
A drunk driver.
An icy bridge.
One terrible phone call.
Police had said no one could survive after the car plunged into the freezing river.
Only Claire's body was recovered.
Ethan's tiny body...
Never was.
Everyone assumed the current carried him away.
Robert spent years searching.
Divers.
Private investigators.
DNA databases.
Nothing.
Eventually...
He buried an empty coffin.
And buried himself in work.
Until today.
Now...
This newborn looked almost identical to the son he'd lost.
Impossible.
Unless...
Someone had lied.
Robert stepped closer.
"May I see him?"
Joanna nodded nervously.
He carefully examined the infant.
The ears.
The eyes.
The tiny fingers.
Then something else caught his attention.
Around the baby's neck...
Hung a tiny silver locket.
Old.
Scratched.
Nearly black with age.
Robert froze again.
He knew that necklace.
He had engraved it himself.
Inside were two tiny initials.
C.W.
Claire Wright.
He opened it with trembling fingers.
Inside remained the faded photograph of himself and Claire taken on their honeymoon.
His knees buckled.
"No..."
The room fell silent.
Joanna frowned.
"Doctor... what's wrong?"
Robert slowly lifted his eyes toward her.
"Where...
did you get this necklace?"
Joanna looked confused.
"My husband gave it to me."
"What was his name?"
She swallowed.
"Logan Wright."
Robert's heartbeat stopped.
Wright.
His own surname.
His missing grandson would now be about twenty-six years old.
Exactly Logan's age.
Robert whispered,
"Dear God..."
Then he asked the question that terrified them both.
"Joanna...
Have you ever met Logan's parents?"
Her answer chilled the room.
"He said...
they died before he could remember them."
Robert closed his eyes.
May you like
Someone...
Had stolen his family.
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