Chapter 2 - The Harvest
Claire stared at the terrifying words written in the dusty notebook.
Her hands trembled as she turned the fragile, yellowed pages.
Sarah’s handwriting became more erratic as the entries progressed.
She detailed late-night visits from Dr. Warren Vance.
She described strange, unmarked vials of liquid Margaret kept locked in the basement refrigerator.
“Noah isn’t sick,” the final entry read.
“He is a perfect genetic match.”
“I am going to the police tonight.”
Claire closed the book, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
She shoved the diary into the bottom of her suitcase and zipped it shut.
She needed to find this woman immediately.
She carried her luggage down the grand staircase, avoiding the judgmental glare of the household staff.
Ethan was standing in the foyer, staring blankly out the front window.
He held an envelope of cash in his hand.
“This is your severance,” Ethan said without turning around.
“I never want to see you near my son again.”
Claire ignored the money and walked straight out the heavy oak doors.
She climbed into her rusty sedan and drove a mile down the private road before pulling over.
She pulled out her phone and searched the name Sarah Jenkins.
The search results loaded in less than a second.
Claire felt the blood drain completely from her face.
Sarah Jenkins had not gone to the police.
A local news article from six months ago filled the screen.
The former nanny’s car had been found completely submerged in the Bellweather River.
The authorities had ruled it a tragic accident.
Claire gripped the steering wheel, realizing the massive danger she had just stumbled into.
Back at the estate, Ethan walked slowly up to Noah’s bedroom.
He expected to find his son crying or playing a video game.
Instead, Noah was sitting in his wheelchair, staring blankly at the wall.
“I’m sorry I yelled, buddy,” Ethan said softly.
Noah didn’t look at him.
The boy slowly rolled up the sleeve of his expensive sweater.
“Dad,” Noah whispered.
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“Why does Margaret give me shots when you go to work?”
Ethan froze, staring at a cluster of dark purple needle marks on his son's pale arm.
