Chapter 17: Medical History

I stepped into the light. The trap was a small room, maybe eight feet by eight, cut directly into the foundation rock. It smelled of earth and something sharper—bleach. The kind used to scrub away organic matter.

A man was sitting on a cot against the far wall.

He was thin, his skin the color of mushrooms that grow in the dark. His hair was long and matted, his beard a tangle of gray and brown. He was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt that looked three sizes too big.

He squinted against the beam of my flashlight, raising a hand to shield his eyes.

"You're not her," he said. His voice was raspy, unused.

"No," I said. "I'm Sarah."

He lowered his hand. His eyes were blue. Vivid, startling blue. Clara's eyes. Mark's eyes.

"Sarah," he repeated, tasting the word. "The girl."

"The girl?"

"The one she bought," he said. "To replace me."

I felt the blood drain from my face. This was him. This was the real Leo Sterling. The baby stolen from the crib. The boy replaced by a foundling. The man erased from the world.

"How long have you been down here?" I asked.

He looked around the small stone room. There was a bucket in the corner. A stack of books. A small TV with a VCR.

"Since the beginning," he said. "Since the day she took me from the other mother."

"Clara," I said. "Her name is Clara."

He flinched at the name. "No. The Bad Mother. That's what she calls her. The Bad Mother who didn't want me."

"That's a lie," I said, stepping closer. "She wanted you. She built a nursery for you. She packed a bag to run away with you."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the rattle. I held it out to him.

"She made this for you. Look at the engraving."

He stared at the silver object, but he didn't touch it. He looked terrified of it.

"She said if I touched anything from the Bad Mother, I would get sick," he whispered. "Like her."

My heart broke. Edith hadn't just imprisoned his body. She had imprisoned his mind. She had raised him in a box, feeding him lies along with his meals.

"Edith is the sick one," I said fiercely. "She stole you, Leo. She stole your life. She kept you down here like an animal."

"I'm not an animal," he said, drawing himself up. "I'm the heir. I'm the first grandson. I have to stay safe until the Trust is released."

"The Trust?"

"When I turn thirty-five," he said, reciting it like a catechism. "When I turn thirty-five, I get the money. And then we can go upstairs. Then we can be a family."

I looked at him. He looked older than thirty-five. The lack of sunlight, the isolation—it had aged him.

"How old are you, Leo?" I asked.

He frowned. "I'm... I don't know. What year is it?"

"It's 2026."

He did the math on his fingers. "I'm thirty-eight."

"You're past the age," I said. "The Trust should have been released three years ago."

He blinked. "But she said... she said it wasn't time yet. She said there were complications. Because of you."

"Me?"

"The imposter," he said. "She said you were trying to steal it. She said you were dangerous."

"I didn't even know you existed until ten minutes ago," I said. "Edith is the one stealing it, Leo. She's using you. She's keeping you down here so she can control the money."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "She loves me. She brings me books. She brings me food."

"She brings you food in a dungeon!" I shouted.

The sound echoed off the stone walls. Leo flinched, curling in on himself.

"Quiet," he hissed. "She'll hear you."

"Let her hear me," I said. "I'm getting you out of here."

I turned back to the iron door. It was heavy, solid. But the lock was on the inside.

"Open it," I said.

Leo looked at the door, then at me. He looked terrified. But there was something else in his eyes too. Curiosity. A spark of the life that had been stolen from him.

He stood up. He was taller than me, taller than Mark. He walked to the door and put his hand on the latch.

"If we go out," he whispered, "will she be angry?"

"She'll be furious," I said. "But she can't hurt you anymore. I won't let her."

He hesitated. Then, with a sudden, jerky motion, he turned the latch.

The door swung open.

I stepped out into the basement, pulling Leo with me. Ben was waiting at the bottom of the dumbwaiter shaft, his flashlight beam cutting through the gloom.

"Holy shit," Ben said when he saw Leo.

"We need to move," I said. "Is the way clear?"

"Yeah. I didn't hear anything."

We climbed up the dumbwaiter shaft, Ben helping Leo, whose muscles were weak from disuse. We pulled him into the kitchen.

He blinked in the harsh light of the work lamps, shielding his eyes. He looked around the kitchen, at the piles of trash, the peeling wallpaper.

"It's so big," he whispered.

"It's a mess," I said. "But it's real."

I grabbed my phone. I needed to call the police. I needed to call a lawyer. I needed to burn Edith's world to the ground.

But before I could dial, my phone buzzed.

It was a text from Edith.

*I know you found the box, Sarah. I know you know.*

I stared at the screen. She knew.

Another text popped up.

*If you want to keep your son's medical insurance, you will bring me the other birth certificate. The one for the girl.*

*Baby Girl Thorne.*

I froze.

I had forgotten about the bracelet. The one that said I wasn't a Doe. I was a Thorne.

Dr. Thorne's daughter.

Edith hadn't just bought his silence. She had bought his child.

My finger hovered over the dial button. If I called the police, Edith would be arrested. The assets would be frozen. Leo's treatment would stop.

But if I gave her what she wanted...

I looked at Leo, standing in the middle of the kitchen, touching a stack of newspapers with wonder.

I looked at Ben, who was watching the door with a crowbar in his hand.

I couldn't trade one Leo for another.

But I needed leverage. And I had the one thing Edith was terrified of.

I typed a reply.

*I have more than the certificate. I have the heir.*

I hit send.

A moment later, the phone rang.

"Hello, Mother," I answered.

"Bring him to me," Edith said. Her voice was ice. "Bring him to the estate. Now."

"No," I said. "You come here. To the house you broke."

"Sarah—"

"Come here," I said. "Or I call the news. And I introduce them to your son."

I hung up.

"What now?" Ben asked.

"Now," I said, "we wait for the shark."

I looked at Leo. He was staring at the window, at the dark square of night sky.

"Have you ever seen the stars, Leo?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Only in books."

"Come on," I said. "I'll show you."

We walked to the window. I wiped away a layer of grime.

Outside, the sky was black and vast. And there, hanging above the tree line, was the moon.

Leo pressed his hand against the glass. He let out a breath, a sound of pure, unadulterated awe.

"It's real," he whispered.

"Yeah," I said. "It's real."

And then, headlights swept across the glass, illuminating his face.

The black Mercedes was in the driveway.

The shark had arrived.

But this time, I wasn't the bait.

I was the hook.