PART 5

“He believes you have something that belongs to him.”
My mother’s words hung in the room.
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t even blink.
“What?”
She looked at me with tears running down her face.
“I should have told you years ago.”
“Tell me now.”
My voice sounded unfamiliar.
My mother lowered the photograph.
“I don’t know how.”
“Try.”
She took a trembling breath.
“Samuel Varela was involved in the fertility treatment that helped me have you.”
“I know.”
“No, Laura.”
She shook her head.
“You don’t know everything.”
I stepped closer.
“What don’t I know?”

She looked at the photograph.

“When I was pregnant with you, your father began asking questions.”

“What questions?”

“He wanted to know who had donated the genetic material.”

“And?”

“The clinic refused to tell him.”

“Because it was anonymous?”

She nodded.

“But your father didn’t believe them.”

“Why?”

“Because he noticed something strange.”

“What?”

My mother looked toward the window.

“He said there was another woman.”

I frowned.

“What woman?”

“A patient.”

“Who?”

“I never learned her full name.”

“Then what does she have to do with me?”

My mother began crying again.

“She had undergone treatment at the same clinic.”

I felt a chill.

“And?”

“She disappeared.”

I stared at her.

“What do you mean disappeared?”

“She stopped coming to appointments.”

“Why?”

“My husband tried to find out.”

“And?”

“He was warned to stop asking questions.”

I felt my stomach tighten.

“By whom?”

She didn’t answer.

“Mom.”

“By Samuel.”

The room seemed to shrink.

“You’re saying Dr. Varela threatened my father?”

“He told him that some things were better left buried.”

I looked down at the photograph.

“Then why did Dad stay?”

“He loved you.”

My eyes filled.

“He was my father.”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t he tell me?”

“Because he promised me.”

I shook my head.

“Everyone keeps saying they were protecting me.”

My voice cracked.

“But nobody ever asked me if I wanted to know the truth.”

My mother reached for my hand.

I pulled away.

“I’m sorry.”

I looked at her.

“Sorry doesn’t tell me who I am.”

She began sobbing.

“You are my daughter.”

“I know.”

“You are his daughter.”

“I know.”

“But biologically…”

She couldn’t finish.

I whispered:

“Maybe I’m not.”

She closed her eyes.

“Your father loved you more than biology ever could.”

That sentence broke something inside me.

I sat down.

For years, I had believed my childhood was ordinary.

Maybe imperfect.

Maybe complicated.

But ordinary.

Now I wondered how much of it had been built on secrets.

Then I remembered something.

The message.

Your mother is lying.

I showed it to her.

Her face went pale.

“Who sent this?”

“I don’t know.”

“Laura, you have to leave.”

“Why?”

“Because if they know you’re here—”

“Who?”

She stood abruptly.

“I don’t know!”

“You keep saying you don’t know.”

“Because I don’t!”

“Then tell me what you do know.”

She looked at me.

For several seconds, she remained silent.

Then she whispered:

“Your father kept a box.”

“What box?”

“A metal box.”

“Where?”

“In his study.”

“He’s been gone for years.”

“I know.”

“Then where is it?”

My mother looked toward the hallway.

“I moved it.”

“Where?”

She hesitated.

“In the basement.”

We went downstairs.

The house was quiet.

Every step felt heavier than the last.

My mother opened an old cabinet.

Behind several boxes was a small metal container covered in dust.

She pulled it out.

My heart started pounding.

“What’s inside?”

“Things your father collected.”

“About me?”

“About Samuel.”

I looked at her.

“Why would Dad collect information about him?”

“Because he thought Samuel was dangerous.”

She handed me the box.

I opened it.

Inside were newspaper clippings.

Photographs.

Handwritten notes.

Medical documents.

And a small cassette tape.

I picked it up.

“What is this?”

“Your father recorded conversations.”

“With whom?”

“I don’t know.”

I looked at the old tape.

“Do we have anything to play it on?”

My mother nodded.

“Upstairs.”

We returned to the living room.

She brought out an old cassette player.

My hands trembled as I inserted the tape.

A hiss filled the room.

Then a man’s voice.

My father’s voice.

My heart broke instantly.

“If anyone is listening to this…”

He paused.

“I need you to understand something.”

Static.

“I didn’t abandon the investigation.”

Another pause.

“I was forced to stop.”

My mother covered her mouth.

I stared at the machine.

My father’s voice continued.

“The child must never know.”

I froze.

The child.

Me.

My father’s breathing became heavier.

“Samuel believes the child is his property.”

I felt sick.

“No…”

The recording continued.

“He believes the genetic material gives him rights.”

My mother started crying.

“That’s why I left the clinic.”

I looked at her.

She knew.

She had known all these years.

The tape continued.

“I don’t know what Samuel wants from her.”

Static.

“But I know he has been searching.”

The recording suddenly became distorted.

Then my father’s voice returned.

“If something happens to me, tell Laura one thing.”

I leaned toward the speaker.

“Tell her she was loved.”

My eyes filled.

“Tell her I was her father.”

The tape clicked.

Silence.

I began crying.

Not because of the secret.

Because for the first time in years, I could hear my father’s voice again.

My mother put her arms around me.

This time, I let her.

But the recording wasn’t finished.

After several seconds of static, another voice appeared.

A man’s voice.

Deep.

Cold.

Controlled.

Samuel.

My blood turned to ice.

“You misunderstand me.”

My father answered.

“You want the child.”

“I want what is mine.”

“She isn’t property.”

“You don’t understand the arrangement.”

“What arrangement?”

Silence.

Then Samuel said:

“The child was never supposed to remain with you.”

I stopped breathing.

My father shouted:

“She is my daughter!”

Samuel’s voice remained calm.

“Biology disagrees.”

My father replied:

“Then biology can go to hell.”

The recording suddenly ended.

I stared at the cassette player.

My mother was shaking.

“Mom…”

She couldn’t speak.

“What arrangement was he talking about?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do.”

“No.”

“You do!”

She cried.

“I was told never to ask.”

“By whom?”

“By your father.”

I stood.

“And he died without telling me.”

My mother lowered her head.

Then the front door slammed upstairs.

We both froze.

Someone was inside the house.

My mother grabbed my arm.

“Stay here.”

“No.”

“Laura!”

We heard footsteps.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Coming down the stairs.

I grabbed my phone.

My mother whispered:

“Don’t move.”

The footsteps stopped.

Silence.

Then a man’s voice came from the hallway.

“Laura.”

My blood froze.

Diego.

I stepped toward the stairs.

“What are you doing here?”

He appeared at the bottom.

His face was pale.

His eyes immediately went to the metal box.

Then to the cassette player.

Then to my mother.

“What did you hear?”

I stared at him.

“How did you know we were listening to it?”

He didn’t answer.

“Diego.”

He looked terrified.

“Where did you get that tape?”

“My father’s box.”

He closed his eyes.

“Laura…”

“What do you know?”

“I know enough to tell you that you need to leave.”

“Why?”

“Because someone is watching this house.”

My mother whispered:

“I told her.”

Diego looked at her.

“You shouldn’t have.”

I stepped between them.

“Stop.”

They both looked at me.

“I am done being the last person to know anything about my own life.”

Diego looked down.

“Then you need to hear everything.”

“Tell me.”

He took a breath.

“Dr. Varela wasn’t just involved in your mother’s fertility treatment.”

I waited.

“He was involved in mine too.”

My heart stopped.

“What?”

He looked at my stomach.

“I went to see him before my vasectomy.”

“Why?”

He hesitated.

“To ask about fertility.”

I frowned.

“You wanted children?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

He swallowed.

“Because I had been told something about you.”

My stomach tightened.

“What?”

“That you might be carrying something genetically unusual.”

I stared at him.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

“No.”

“Then explain.”

He stepped closer.

“I went to Dr. Varela because someone contacted me.”

“Who?”

“I never saw his face.”

“What did he want?”

“He told me that if I stayed married to you, I would eventually discover something about your birth.”

“And?”

“He offered me money to leave you.”

I felt like I had been struck.

“How much?”

“Enough to disappear.”

My mother gasped.

“And you refused?”

Diego looked at me.

“At first.”

“At first?”

He nodded.

“I didn’t understand why someone would pay me to leave my wife.”

I stared at him.

“Then what changed?”

His eyes filled with shame.

“Paula.”

I closed my eyes.

“Of course.”

“She became involved.”

“You chose her.”

“Yes.”

“You took the money?”

“No.”

“Then why did you do all of this?”

He whispered:

“Because I became afraid.”

“Of what?”

He looked toward the windows.

“Of the people who were behind the offer.”

I followed his gaze.

The curtains were closed.

“Who are they?”

“I don’t know.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because I really don’t.”

I stepped closer.

“Then tell me what you do know.”

He looked at my stomach.

“I know they were interested in your pregnancy.”

My heart pounded.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Diego!”

He flinched.

“I was told that if you ever became pregnant, certain people would come looking.”

I stared at him.

“And when I got pregnant…”

“They contacted me.”

“What did they say?”

He looked at me.

“They told me to make sure the children were not born.”

My entire body went cold.

My mother screamed.

“What?”

Diego immediately shook his head.

“I didn’t agree.”

“But you left me.”

“I was trying to distance myself from you so they would stop watching me.”

I stared at him.

“That makes no sense.”

“I know.”

“You accused me.”

“I know.”

“You publicly humiliated me.”

“I know.”

“You moved in with Paula.”

“I know.”

“And now you’re telling me you did all of that to protect me?”

He looked devastated.

“I made everything worse.”

“Yes.”

He lowered his head.

“I know.”

I wanted to hate him.

Part of me did.

But another part of me was terrified.

Because if he was telling the truth, the danger was no longer just emotional.

Someone wanted my children.

Someone had known about the pregnancy.

Someone had known about the twins.

And someone had been watching my family for decades.

Then my phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

I looked at it.

One new message.

He is lying.

Another arrived immediately.

Diego knows exactly who we are.

I looked at him.

He saw the message.

His face went white.

“Give me the phone.”

“No.”

“Laura, please.”

“Who are they?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you afraid?”

He stared at me.

And for the first time, I saw something in his eyes I had never seen before.

Pure terror.

He whispered:

“Because they already have someone close to you.”

My mother froze.

“Who?”

Diego looked at her.

Then at me.

“Your mother isn’t the only person who knows about the clinic.”

My heart sank.

“Who else?”

He didn’t answer.

“Who?”

He finally whispered:

“Paula.”

I felt sick.

“She knows?”

“She knows more than she told you.”

I immediately called Paula.

She didn’t answer.

I called again.

Nothing.

Then a message appeared.

From Paula.

Meet me alone.

I stared at it.

Below it was an address.

A small café across town.

Then another message.

I can prove Diego is lying.

I looked at Valeria’s name in my contacts.

Before I could call her, Paula sent one final message.

Come before midnight, or you’ll never learn why Diego really married you.

I stared at those words.

Why Diego really married me.

Not why he cheated.

Not why he left.

Why he married me.

That question had never occurred to me.

Until now.

I looked at Diego.

“Why did you marry me?”

His face collapsed.

He whispered:

“Because I loved you.”

I shook my head.

“That’s not what she says.”

His eyes widened.

“Laura, don’t go.”

“Why?”

“Because Paula is setting a trap.”

“Maybe.”

He stepped toward me.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

I grabbed my coat.

My mother stood.

“Laura, please don’t.”

“I need answers.”

Diego blocked the door.

“You’re not going.”

I stared at him.

“You don’t get to decide that anymore.”

He moved aside.

I walked out.

But I didn’t go alone.

Valeria was already waiting in her car across the street.

She rolled down the window.

“Get in.”

I climbed inside.

“I thought you told me not to meet anyone alone.”

“I did.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t listen.”

I almost smiled.

“Fair.”

She started the engine.

We drove toward the café.

Halfway there, she received a call.

She answered.

“Hello?”

Her expression changed.

“What?”

I watched her.

She ended the call.

“What happened?”

She looked at me.

“The police found a car abandoned near your mother’s house.”

My heart stopped.

“What car?”

“Diego’s.”

I turned toward her.

“That’s impossible.”

“He was at my mother’s house.”

“I know.”

“Then who was driving his car?”

Valeria’s face was grim.

“That is exactly what the police are trying to determine.”

I looked at my phone.

Another message.

From Paula.

You’re being followed.

I looked in the rearview mirror.

A black SUV was several cars behind us.

It turned when we turned.

Valeria noticed.

“Don’t look back again.”

My heart pounded.

“Is that them?”

“I don’t know.”

The SUV followed us for another three blocks.

Then it disappeared.

We reached the café.

Paula was sitting alone at a corner table.

She looked terrified.

The moment she saw me, she stood.

“Laura.”

I sat down.

Valeria remained beside me.

Paula looked at her.

“I need to speak to Laura.”

“No,” Valeria said.

Paula swallowed.

“Fine.”

She pulled an envelope from her bag.

“I found this in Diego’s apartment.”

She pushed it across the table.

I opened it.

Inside was a photograph.

I stared at it.

My breath caught.

It showed Diego and me on our wedding day.

But this photograph was different.

Someone had circled me in red.

And beside my face was written:

SUBJECT A.

I looked at Paula.

“What is this?”

She was crying.

“I don’t know.”

“Where did you find it?”

“Behind a wall.”

“A wall?”

“In Diego’s apartment.”

I turned the photograph over.

There was another message.

Marriage successful. Continue observation.

My stomach twisted.

“Observation?”

Paula nodded.

“I found more.”

She pulled out several pages.

“Financial transfers.”

“From whom?”

She pointed to a company name.

I had never heard of it.

Valeria recognized it immediately.

Her face went pale.

“What’s wrong?”

She looked at me.

“This company owns the clinic where your mother received treatment.”

My heart stopped.

Paula continued.

“And that’s not all.”

She opened another page.

“There were payments made to Diego.”

I stared.

“Payments for what?”

Paula looked directly at me.

“For marrying you.”

Silence.

I couldn’t breathe.

Valeria took the papers.

She examined them.

“These are real.”

I looked at Paula.

“Why are you telling me this?”

She wiped her tears.

“Because I finally realized something.”

“What?”

She leaned closer.

“I wasn’t the other woman.”

My heart pounded.

“What do you mean?”

Paula whispered:

“I was the distraction.”

I stared at her.

“From what?”

She looked toward the café window.

“From you.”

I turned.

Outside, across the street, the black SUV had returned.

This time, it wasn’t moving.

It was parked.

Someone was sitting inside.

Watching us.

Paula whispered:

“They know you found the papers.”

Valeria immediately stood.

“We’re leaving.”

But before we could move, my phone rang.

Unknown number.

I answered.

No one spoke.

Then I heard a man’s voice.

Calm.

Cold.

Familiar.

“Laura.”

I froze.

“Who is this?”

A pause.

Then:

“You have something that belongs to me.”

I stared at the window.

The black SUV’s door opened.

A man stepped out.

Gray hair.

Glasses.

A dark coat.

My blood turned to ice.

Dr. Samuel Varela.

His voice came through the phone.

“Do not run.”

I couldn’t move.

He looked directly through the café window.

Directly at me.

Then he smiled.

And said:

“After twenty-nine years, my daughter…”

My heart stopped.

“…we finally meet.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Click Here to continuous Read​​​​ Full Ending Story👉PART(6): – My husband had a vasectomy, yet two months later…