Chapter 4 - The Truth About Clara
The small security drone hovered perfectly still in the damp air of the subway corridor.
Before the machine could transmit our location, Mark grabbed a loose brick from the floor and hurled it with devastating accuracy.
The brick smashed into the drone, sending it crashing into the concrete wall in a shower of sparks.
"They know we are down here now," Mark said, his voice tense and urgent.
"We have to move to Dr. Vance's estate immediately before they lock down the entire city," Evelyn urged.
We climbed a series of maintenance ladders until we reached a grated manhole cover on a deserted street.
Mark pushed the heavy iron cover aside, and we scrambled out into the cold night air.
We were standing in an upscale residential district, surrounded by massive mansions hidden behind high stone walls.
Evelyn guided us toward a sprawling, modern compound located at the end of a dead-end street.
"That is the Vance estate," she whispered, pointing to the heavily fortified iron gates.
"There is no way we can break into a fortress like that," I said, feeling a wave of absolute despair.
"We don't have to break in," Mark replied, noticing a luxury catering van parked near the service entrance.
We snuck around to the back of the van and waited until the caterers walked inside with a tray of food.
Mark silently incapacitated the remaining driver with a swift chokehold, laying him gently on the grass.
We slipped through the open service door and navigated the lavish, brightly lit hallways of the mansion.
We could hear the sound of a formal dinner party echoing from the main dining hall.
"We need to find his private office," Mark whispered, leading us up a grand spiral staircase.
We searched the second floor until we found heavy oak doors locked with a digital keypad.
Evelyn pulled a hairpin from her messy hair and spent two agonizing minutes picking the mechanical backup lock.
We slipped into the luxurious office and locked the doors securely behind us.
The room was filled with expensive art, rare books, and a massive mahogany desk.
Mark immediately began searching the filing cabinets while I booted up the sleeping computer monitor.
"Look at this," I gasped, clicking on a hidden folder labeled 'Project Genesis'.
The screen filled with hundreds of medical files, genetic charts, and photographs of Clara.
"Why is he so obsessed with my daughter?" Evelyn cried out, looking at the disturbing images.
I opened a summary document and began reading the terrifying truth out loud.
"Clara possesses a one-in-a-billion genetic mutation that completely halts cellular aging," I read, my hands shaking.
"Dr. Vance didn't just use her as a surrogate, he used her eggs to pass the mutation onto our girls."
Mark stopped tearing through the files and stared at me in complete shock.
"That means the girls were never biologically yours, Sarah," Mark whispered gently.
Tears streamed down my face as the ultimate betrayal finally settled into my heart.
The agency had stolen my embryos, replaced them with Clara's, and charged us hundreds of thousands of dollars for the lie.
"But wait," I said, reading the next line of the medical report.
"It says here that the genetic father's DNA was perfectly compatible with Clara's mutation."
I looked at the name listed under the biological father's profile.
The room began to spin wildly as I read the name out loud.
"The biological father is Dr. Arthur Vance."
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Before any of us could process the sickening revelation, the oak doors of the office burst open.
Dr. Vance stood in the doorway, holding a silver handgun and smiling a cruel, triumphant smile.
