Chapter 4 - The Ghost of Rebecca
The heavy oak doors of the master study locked with a dull electronic click.
A single brass desk lamp illuminated the room, casting long shadows across towering bookshelves and a massive mahogany desk littered with financial reports. Maya sat in a wingback chair near the fireplace, holding Eli, who was sleeping peacefully against her chest.
Jonathan stood by the window, staring out into the dark Virginia woods where the shadows of security patrols flickered against the glass.
Dr. Vance sat slumped in a leather chair across the room, sweating profusely despite the cool temperature, while Owen leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Let's start over," Jonathan said without turning around. "And this time, Doctor, do not insult my intelligence."
Dr. Vance swallowed hard, wiping his brow with a silk handkerchief. "It... it wasn't my decision, Mr. Mercer. It came from the medical board overseeing the Dublin clinic where Eli was born."
Jonathan turned slowly. "What medical board?"
"The Genesis Project," Vance stammered. "A private research initiative funded through Mercer Dominion’s subsidiary health grants. Mrs. Mercer... your late wife... she discovered anomalies in the clinical trials regarding infant metabolic development six months ago. She wanted to pull funding."
Maya’s breath caught. She looked up sharply. "Metabolic development trials? On newborns?"
Dr. Vance nodded miserably. "The Genesis Project wasn't just about healthcare, Mr. Mercer. It was a proprietary genetic mapping study. Infants born through select private clinics in Ireland and Boston were... monitored. Their neurological responses, their stress adaptation thresholds—they were being cataloged."
Jonathan crossed the room in two strides, grabbing Dr. Vance by the lapels of his suit jacket and jerking him upright.
"You were experimenting on my son?" Jonathan’s voice was a lethal growl that shook the glass in the windows.
"We weren't harming him!" Vance cried out, his hands clawing at Jonathan’s wrists. "We were stabilizing him! The sedatives—chloral hydrate derivatives—were only administered to keep his nervous system from rejecting the neural-mapping patches applied during his sleep!"
Owen shifted by the door. "Mr. Mercer, let him go. This is getting out of hand."
"Shut up, Owen," Jonathan snapped, releasing Vance so violently the doctor stumbled back into the chair. Jonathan turned to Maya, his expression a mask of agony and fury. "Rebecca knew. That’s what she meant. Do not let them finish it. She found out what the Genesis Project was doing to our son, and they killed her for it."
Maya felt a cold shudder run down her spine. "They murdered her?"
"The autopsy ruled it respiratory failure following a sudden pulmonary embolism," Jonathan said bitterly, pacing behind his desk. "But the doctors who signed off on it were appointed by the board—board members controlled by the head of our medical acquisitions division."
Owen cleared his throat. "Boss, this is pure speculation. Vance is a disgraced researcher trying to save his own skin by spinning a conspiracy theory. We need to hand him over to corporate security and call federal authorities."
"No," Maya said quietly.
Everyone in the room turned to look at her.
Maya stood up, holding Eli securely against her shoulder. She walked toward Jonathan’s desk, her eyes fixed on a framed photograph sitting beside the computer monitor—a picture of Rebecca Mercer smiling on a sunny Dublin pier, holding a newborn infant wrapped in a blue blanket.
"That blanket," Maya whispered, her voice trembling. "I know that blanket."
Jonathan stared at her. "What are you talking about?"
"Nine months ago, I gave birth to my son, Gabriel, at St. Jude’s Clinic in Dublin," Maya said, the words tumbling out as the horrifying puzzle pieces violently clicked together in her mind. "St. Jude’s Clinic is a subsidiary of Mercer Dominion Capital."
The room went dead silent. Even the hum of the air conditioning seemed to vanish.
"The doctors told me my baby died of sudden infant death syndrome twelve hours after birth," Maya continued, tears welling in her eyes as her voice broke. "They wouldn't let me hold him afterward. They said the autopsy protocols were mandatory. They handed me a closed casket and told me to go home."
Jonathan stared at Maya, his face turning the color of ash. "You... you believe Eli is..."
"Look at the birth records," Maya said, her voice rising with desperate conviction. "Look at the dates. Look at the clinic. They didn't just monitor babies for a research project. They stole them. They took my son, told me he was dead, and handed him to your wife as a replacement—or as part of their sick genetic experiment!"
Owen’s hand twitched toward his jacket pocket.
"This is insane," Owen said, his voice suddenly stripped of its polite corporate deference. "An emotional nurse losing her mind over a tragic coincidence, trying to invent a fairy tale to explain her grief."
Jonathan didn't look at Owen. He stared at Maya, then down at the sleeping infant in her arms.
"Open the safe, Owen," Jonathan commanded quietly.
May you like
Owen froze. "Sir?"
"Open the safe behind the painting," Jonathan repeated, his eyes never leaving Maya's face. "The one containing Rebecca’s personal encrypted journals. The ones she told me to read only if something happened to her."
