The Call

"The perfect kind," she whispered. "The kind everyone knew about, but no one saw."

Elena walked out of the Times building, her hands trembling, but not from the cold. The reporter, a sharp-eyed woman named Sarah Chen, had listened for two hours, recording everything. The marriage license. The birth certificate. The letter from Nathaniel. She had taken photos of them all.

But she hadn't taken the originals.

"Keep them safe," Sarah had said. "If this story runs, you're going to need them. And you're going to need a bodyguard."

Elena didn't have a bodyguard. She had a cab driver named Yuri who was currently double-parked on 41st Street, waiting for her.

She got in. "Back to Broome Street," she said.

Her phone buzzed.

Marcus.

She stared at the name on the screen. He was calling her. Not through a lawyer. Not through a burner. Direct.

She answered.

"Elena," he said. His voice was calm, almost affectionate. It was the voice he used when he was trying to convince her to sign a check. "Where are you?"

"I'm with the press," Elena said. "I just gave them the story. The real story."

"I know," Marcus said. "Sarah Chen called my office for comment. Very thorough. Very professional."

"It's over, Marcus. Everyone will know."

"Will they?" Marcus asked. "Or will they know that my grieving, unstable wife, who kidnapped our son and assaulted my sister, has now concocted a fantasy about bigamy and eugenics?"

"I have the documents."

"Documents can be forged," Marcus said. "Especially by someone with access to the family archives. Someone who was fired for embezzlement."

"I didn't embezzle anything."

"The audit says otherwise," Marcus said. "We found the transfers, Elena. To the shell companies. The ones you set up."

Elena felt a cold knot form in her stomach. He wasn't just denying it. He was framing her.

"I didn't set those up. Seraphina did."

"Seraphina is a victim," Marcus said smoothly. "Of your jealousy. Of your greed. You tried to kill her, Elena. You pushed a trellis onto her. She's in the hospital. Critical condition."

"She attacked me with a knife!"

"There was no knife," Marcus said. "Just a woman trying to save her nephew from a kidnapper."

Elena looked out the window. The city was waking up, oblivious to the war being fought in its shadows.

"Why are you calling me?" she asked.

"Because I'm a generous man," Marcus said. "And because I still have something you want."

"I have the documents," Elena repeated.

"And I have the embryos," Marcus said.

Elena stopped breathing.

"They're not at the clinic anymore," Marcus said. "I moved them. To a private facility. A very secure facility."

"You can't move them without my signature."

"I have your signature," Marcus said. "Or at least, a very good copy of it. You signed a lot of things over the years, Elena. Power of attorney. Medical directives."

"Give them back."

"I will," Marcus said. "In exchange for the originals. The marriage license. The birth certificate. The letter."

"No."

"Think about it," Marcus said. "Those embryos are your children. Your biological children. Do you really want them raised by Seraphina? Do you want them raised in the... environment you're so afraid of?"

"You're a monster."

"I'm a father," Marcus said. "And I'm protecting my legacy. Bring the documents to the estate. Tonight. Alone."

"I'm not coming back there."

"Then the embryos will be destroyed," Marcus said. "Or worse. Implanted. In a surrogate who doesn't ask questions. Someone like Bella."

Elena felt bile rise in her throat. "You wouldn't."

"I would," Marcus said. "And I will. Unless you bring me the papers."

"How do I know you won't kill me?"

"You don't," Marcus said. "But what choice do you have? The police are looking for you. The FBI is looking for you. And if you don't come to me... you lose the only thing you have left."

He paused.

"Come home, Elena. Or we call the clinic."

He hung up.

Elena stared at the phone.

He was right. She had no choice.

She looked at the driver.

"Change of plans," she said.

"Where to now?"

"We're going to the hardware store," Elena said.

"Hardware store?"

"Yes," Elena said, her voice hard as steel. "I need some supplies."

She wasn't going back to surrender.

She was going back to finish what she started.