Chapter 65 65
Lucas stepped out of the steamy bathroom, a white towel wrapped low around his hips, droplets still tracing paths down his chest and arms.
His hair was damp and tousled, skin flushed from the hot water.
He paused just inside the bedroom, eyes flicking toward the bed where Olivia had been, but the room felt emptier now. Before he could process it, his phone buzzed sharply on the nightstand.
He crossed the room in two strides, snatched it up, and answered without looking at the screen.
“Brooks here.”
A familiar voice—low, urgent—crackled through the speaker.
“Sir, we’ve got a lead about the woman from five years ago.”
Lucas went rigid. The towel slipped slightly as he straightened, knuckles whitening around the phone.
The voice continued: “The reports are at the city hospital. You might like to come see them yourself, Mr Brooks. It’s… big. Could be the real thing this time.”
Lucas’s breath caught.
He didn’t speak for a long second.
Then, quiet: “I’m on my way.”
He ended the call, staring at the dark screen like it had burned him.
Behind the half-cracked bedroom door, Olivia stood frozen, silk robe clutched to her chest, ear pressed close.
She’d slipped out of sight the moment he’d headed for the bathroom earlier—now she was eavesdropping, heart slamming against her ribs.
Her eyes widened in horror.
No… he can’t… I’ll lose him.
She watched as Lucas moved quickly, dropping the towel without a second thought. He yanked open the wardrobe, grabbed dark jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and a leather jacket.
He didn’t even glance around—didn’t notice the faint shadow behind the door.
He grabbed his keys from the dresser and strode out, the bedroom door clicking shut behind him.
Olivia waited until she heard his footsteps fade down the hallway, then the distant front door closing.
Only then did she move.
She sank onto the edge of the bed, legs shaking, and pulled her phone from the nightstand with trembling fingers.
She dialed fast.
The line picked up on the first ring.
“Tell me it’s done,” a gravelly male voice answered—her gang leader, calm but edged with impatience.
Olivia’s voice cracked. “It didn’t work. None of it. The plans to make her leave the city for good… he’s still going after it. He just got a call. There are reports at the hospital. He’s heading there now.”
A low curse on the other end.
“Is there a way to stop my Lucas from seeing those reports?” she whispered, voice rising in desperation. “Anything. Please.”
The man paused.
“Which hospital?”
“The General City Hospital,” she said quickly. “Downtown. Please—just make sure he doesn’t get to those files. Stall him, distract him, whatever it takes. But don’t hurt him. I mean it. Not a scratch.”
Another beat of silence.
“Consider it done,” he replied, tone flat and professional. “We’ll handle the hospital. Keep him away long enough for you to figure out your next move.”
Olivia exhaled shakily.
“I’ll send the two million to you right now. Just… make him stay away from that hospital. Please.”
She ended the call, thumbs already flying across her banking app to transfer the funds.
And across town, in a dimly lit back room, the gang leader pocketed his phone, a slow, smile curling his lips.
Lucas pulled into the dimly lit parking lot of General City Hospital just after midnight.
He strode through the automatic doors.
At the reception desk, a nurse in navy scrubs looked up from her computer.
“Lucas Brooks,” he said, voice low but firm. “I’m here about some reports. A contact called—said they’d be ready for me in records.”
The nurse nodded without question, recognizing the name from the earlier call.
“Right this way, Mr. Brooks. Follow me.”
She led him down a quiet corridor, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, past empty gurneys and closed doors.
They reached a small, windowless report room tucked at the end of the hall. The nurse unlocked the door and gestured inside.
“The files are on the table. Take your time. I’ll be back at the desk if you need anything.”
She left him alone with a soft click of the door.
The room was simple: a metal table, two chairs, overhead light, and a single manila folder waiting in the center.
Lucas didn’t sit.
He paced instead—three steps one way, three back—hands shoved in his jacket pockets, jaw tight.
“I owe her a lot,” he exhaled, the words rough and private. “If this is real… if she’s really been here all this time…”
He stopped, staring at the folder like it might bite.
October 29th, 2021.
The date burned in his mind.
He finally reached out and flipped the folder open.
Inside: official hospital documents. A newborn discharge summary. A birth registration form. A neonatal record.
Baby Boy
Date of Birth: October 29, 2021
Time: 03:17 AM
Mother: Blair Rivers Hernandez
Birth Weight: 3.2 kg
Length: 50 cm
Apgar Scores: 8/9
Father: Not listed / Declined to specify
Hospital: General City Hospital
Notes: Healthy term infant. Mother and child discharged in stable condition on October 31, 2021.
A photocopy of the official birth certificate was clipped behind i.
Lucas’s breath stopped.
He read the mother’s name again.
And again.
“Blair…”
His voice cracked on the single word.
He sank into the chair, elbows on the table, fingers gripping the edges of the papers so hard they crinkled.
“Blair Rivers Hernandez.”
A son.
Their son.
Lucas whispered again, softer, like the name might break if he said it too loud.
“Blair…”
Lucas remained seated in the small report room, the papers still clutched in his white-knuckled grip.
He set the folder down carefully, as if it were made of glass, then pulled his phone from his jacket pocket with trembling fingers.
He scrolled to the contact labeled simply: Detective Reyes.
The line rang twice.
“Brooks,” Reyes answered, voice gravelly and alert despite the late hour. “You at the hospital?”
“Yeah,” Lucas said, voice low and rough. “
A low whistle came through the speaker.
“Jesus. Congratulations? Or…?”
Lucas didn’t answer that.
Instead, he leaned forward, elbows on the table, free hand rubbing his forehead.
“Can you track any Blair Rivers Hernandez?” he asked, words clipped and urgent. “Current location, address, anything. Phone records, utilities, socials—whatever you’ve got access to. I’ll be waiting right here. Now.”
Reyes paused only a second.
“On it. Give me ten, maybe fifteen. I’ll pull everything I can from the usual databases, DMV, credit hits, hospital follow-ups. If she’s still in the city—or anywhere in the state—I’l
l find her.”
“Thanks,” Lucas exhaled, the word heavy. “Call me the second you have something.”
He ended the call and let the phone drop to the table with a soft clack.