Chapter 4 - The Architect of LiesDaniel instinctively shoved Valerie behind him, raising his arm to block the blinding glare of the flashlight.
Stepping out of the shadows of the corridor was an old man leaning heavily on a carved wooden cane. He wore a damp trench coat, his silver hair unkempt, and his face carved with deep, unforgiving lines of old age.
Even after twenty years, Daniel recognized him instantly.
Dr. Aris Thorne.
"Well, well," Thorne wheezed, a dry, humorless chuckle rattling in his chest. "If it isn't the grieving architect and his tragic ex-wife. I always wondered when you two would come looking. Though I honestly thought time would rot your memories before you bothered to check the basement."
"You monster," Valerie hissed, stepping out from behind Daniel. Her voice trembled with a lethal fury. "Where is my son? What did you do with him?"
Thorne tilted his head, unimpressed by her rage. "My dear Mrs. Mercer—or is it Ms. Bennett now?—I didn't steal a child. I provided a service. Twenty years ago, St. Catherine’s was facing a massive financial scandal. At the same time, desperate, wealthy families were paying small fortunes for healthy infants with clean slates. Your baby boy was born during the night shift when the hospital board was desperate for liquidity. A clean switch. You were told he was stillborn, and a grieving couple from the upper echelons of Chicago society took him home believing he was a miracle adoption."
Daniel’s blood boiled. He took two fast strides forward, grabbing Thorne by the lapels of his trench coat and slamming him against the metal shelving. The boxes rattled violently overhead.
"Who?" Daniel roared, his face inches from the old doctor's. "Who has my son? Give me a name right now, or I swear to God I will finish what your heart medicine is already trying to do!"
Thorne didn't flinch. Instead, a twisted, knowing smile spread across his wrinkled lips. He reached up with a frail, shaking hand and tapped Daniel’s chest right over his heart.
"You want to know who raised him, Daniel?" Thorne whispered hoarsely. "You don't even have to look across the city. He’s been standing right in your shadow for the last three years."
Daniel froze. His grip on Thorne’s coat loosened.
"What... what are you talking about?"
"Think about it, architect," Thorne rasped, wheezing a laugh. "Who do you know born twenty years ago, with your exact eye color, your stubborn jawline, and a brilliant mind for design? Who did you hire fresh out of university three years ago as your top junior draftsman, bringing him into your firm, your office, and your inner circle?"
Daniel’s mind spun violently backward through time, sorting through faces, names, resumes, and drafting tables, until one specific young man flashed into his mind with terrifying clarity.
Lucas.
May you like
His star architectural intern. The young man he had mentored like a son.
"No," Daniel whispered, staggering backward as if he had been struck by a physical blow. "No... that's impossible."
