PART 6
THE FIANCÉ WHO KNEW MORE THAN HE ADMITTED
The silence inside the SUV became unbearable.
I turned toward Wyatt.
He did not look surprised.
That was the moment my heart broke.
“You knew.”
He stared through the windshield.
“Sadie—”
“You knew.”
“I knew part of it.”
“How much?”
Walter drove north toward a private airfield.
Wyatt’s face was pale.
“My mother worked for your grandfather.”
“What?”
“She was a laboratory nurse.”
The truth landed slowly.
All the coincidences I had once called fate suddenly rearranged themselves.
Wyatt meeting me at a charity event.
Wyatt recognizing Grandpa’s old watch in a photograph.
Wyatt asking strangely specific questions about my childhood illnesses.
“You didn’t meet me by accident.”
His eyes filled with pain.
“No.”
Melanie whispered, “You were watching her.”
“At first.”
The words cut deeper than I expected.
“Was any of it real?”
Wyatt turned toward me.
“All of it.”
“You lied from the beginning.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“That is what every liar says.”
Walter pulled the SUV into an aircraft hangar.
Inside waited a silver private jet and a woman in her early sixties.
She had Wyatt’s eyes.
His mother, Margaret Cole.
She approached me carefully.
“I owe you the truth.”
I stepped away from Wyatt.
“You owe me much more than that.”
Margaret accepted the anger without protest.
“Your grandfather saved Wyatt’s life when he was six. He suffered spinal nerve damage after a car accident. Doctors said he would never walk again.”
I looked at Wyatt.
He stood perfectly still.
“Grandpa treated you.”
“Yes.”
“And it worked.”
“Yes.”
Margaret continued.
“Harold knew Virex would come for all three children eventually. He created the trust not only to leave you money, but to fund legal protection and preserve the research until you were old enough to decide what to do with it.”
“Why was I the beneficiary?”
“Because you were the only one whose identity Virex never fully confirmed.”
I laughed bitterly.
“They had my medical files.”
“Not your real genetic profile.”
Walter opened a locked case and removed three sealed envelopes.
“Harold altered records. He gave each child a false name in the laboratory archive.”
“Then how did Virex find us?”
Margaret looked at Wyatt.
“He found you.”
My chest tightened.
Wyatt stepped forward.
“When I sold my company, Virex approached me. They claimed they wanted access to a construction patent. But they asked questions about my childhood.”
“And you led them to me.”
“No. I realized they were searching for the other patients.”
“So you found me first.”
“Yes.”
“Did you fall in love with me before or after you decided I was evidence?”
His face crumpled.
“Before I knew you were Sadie Davis.”
I wanted to believe him.
That was the worst part.
Margaret placed one envelope in my hand.
My grandfather’s handwriting covered the front.
FOR SADIE—WHEN EVERYONE HAS LIED TO HER.
My fingers trembled as I opened it.
Inside was a letter.
My dearest Sadie,
If you are reading this, then I failed to keep the truth buried long enough for you to live freely.
The treatment did not merely heal damaged tissue. It taught the body how to repair itself.
Virex wanted to use it to create soldiers who could survive injuries, children designed before birth, and patients permanently dependent on their company.
I refused.
You, Melanie, and Wyatt are not experiments. You are proof that healing should never belong to the highest bidder.
At the bottom, one final sentence had been underlined.
The formula was never stored in the laboratory. It was stored in you.
I looked up.
“What does that mean?”
Walter answered.
“Your blood contains the stabilized genetic marker.”
Melanie touched her arm.
“All of us?”
“No,” Walter said.
“Only Sadie.”
The hangar doors suddenly began to close.
A man stepped out from behind the jet.
Tall. Gray-haired. Expensively dressed.
I recognized him from television.
