Chapter 3 - The Broken Paperwork
Alejandro sat in his private study, his hands resting flat on the cool leather of his desk. Across from him, Elena sat on the edge of an armchair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The four boys had been settled in the adjoining morning room with drawing paper and juice boxes, their soft murmurs drifting through the heavy oak door.
"Tell me everything," Alejandro commanded, his voice cold, stripped of all emotion as a defense mechanism against the overwhelming shock threatening to break him. "Every word."
Elena began to speak, her voice trembling but resolute. "My daughter, Sofia, didn't know the truth at first. She was twenty-four, working late shifts at the Horizon Reproductive Institute. The director, Dr. Harold Mercer, was running an illegal private adoption ring out of the basement files. He targeted wealthy clients who had abandoned or signed off on viable embryos."
Alejandro’s fist clenched tightly on the leather desk. "Mercer..."
"Sofia discovered what he was doing three years ago," Elena continued. "She found the records. Your name was on four healthy embryos that had been marked for destruction but were instead slated to be transferred to a private buyer in Western Europe for half a million dollars."
Alejandro felt a sickening rage blossom in his chest. "Why didn't she come to the police? Why didn't she come to me?"
"Because Dr. Mercer found out she knew," Elena said, tears finally brimming in her eyes. "He threatened her. He told her he had connections in the state department, that he would ruin her, lock her away, and make sure she never worked again. Sofia was young, scared, and desperate."
She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.
"She couldn't let those embryos be sold like property," Elena whispered. "She was an embryologist, Mr. Vance. She knew what they were. She knew they were yours and your late wife's. So... she did something crazy. She stole them."
Alejandro leaned back in his chair, his mind spinning violently. "She stole them... and she carried them herself?"
"She went to a underground surrogate clinic in Mexico," Elena said. "She thought she would have one child. Maybe twins. But all four embryos survived. It was a medical miracle—or a curse, depending on how you look at it. She carried them to term in secret, living in a small town outside Portland."
"Where is she now, Elena?" Alejandro demanded, standing up abruptly. "Where is your daughter?"
Elena lowered her head, her shoulders shaking violently as a sob finally broke through her composure.
"She died three weeks ago, Mr. Vance," Elena wept softly. "An aggressive form of leukemia. It took her in less than a month. Before she died, she made me promise to bring the boys back here. She told me... she told me their father was a good man, even if he didn't know they existed."
Alejandro stood frozen behind his desk.
Four boys. His biological sons. Born from his late wife’s genetic material and carried by his housekeeper’s daughter, now sitting thirty feet away in his morning room, coloring pictures of fire trucks with cheap crayons.
Before he could process the sheer weight of the revelation, the landline on his desk rang sharply.
Alejandro picked it up on instinct. "Vance."
"Mr. Vance, this is Arthur from the security gatehouse," his head guard said, his voice tense. "We have three black SUVs at the main entrance. A man named Dr. Harold Mercer is claiming he has a court-ordered administrative warrant to inspect the premises for illegally moved biological wards. Should I let them in?"
May you like
Alejandro's eyes locked onto Elena's terrified face.
"Hold them at the gate," Alejandro ordered, his tone suddenly dropping into pure iron. "Lock down the estate perimeter. Nobody enters without my personal authorization."
