CHAPTER 8 – THE CHILD THEY MADE FROM ME
CHAPTER 8 – THE CHILD THEY MADE FROM ME
Beatriz Armenta stood at the center of the boathouse as if the armed men surrounding her were servants at a dinner party.
Her white suit was spotless.
Her silver hair was swept into an elegant knot.
A diamond brooch glittered above her heart.
She looked refined.
Controlled.
Almost maternal.
Only her eyes revealed what she truly was.
They moved across the children without warmth.
Without concern.
Without seeing four terrified human beings.
She saw investments.
Medical records.
Years of research that had finally been returned to her.
“All four subjects,” she repeated.
“After seven years.”
Daniel pressed himself against my side.
Lucía gripped my hand.
The curly-haired boy stood beside Elena.
The gray-eyed boy remained closest to the water, staring at the armed men blocking the dock.
Behind us, Rosa lay on the wooden floor.
Blood spread beneath her body.
Her breathing was shallow.
Each breath sounded wetter than the one before it.
I started toward her.
One of the guards raised his weapon.
Beatriz lifted two fingers.
The guard lowered it slightly.
“Let her go to Rosa,” Beatriz said.
“She has earned one final conversation.”
I dropped beside Rosa.
Her eyes opened.
She tried to speak, but only a broken sound escaped.
I pressed both hands over the wound in her back.
Blood pushed between my fingers.
“Elena.”
“I need something to stop the bleeding.”
Elena removed her jacket and rushed toward us.
A guard stepped into her path.
“She is a lawyer,” Beatriz said.
“Not a doctor.”
“She knows how to apply pressure,” I snapped.
Beatriz studied me.
Then she nodded.
The guard moved aside.
Elena knelt and folded the jacket against Rosa’s wound.
Rosa gasped.
Her hand searched blindly until it found mine.
“Daniel,” she whispered.
“He is here.”
“Do not let them take him.”
“I will not.”
Her fingers tightened weakly.
“They need all four.”
“For what?”
She looked toward Beatriz.
Her lips moved.
I lowered my ear closer.
“The final sequence.”
“What does that mean?”
Rosa tried to answer.
A violent cough shook her body.
Blood touched the corner of her mouth.
Beatriz watched without expression.
“You are wasting time,” she said.
I looked up at her.
“You shot her.”
“I did not.”
She glanced toward the tunnel gate.
“Mateo made that decision.”
The metal gate remained closed behind us.
Mateo Salazar stood on the other side.
His shadow moved beneath the gap.
He had followed us through the tunnel.
He had fired the shot.
Yet Beatriz had trapped him outside with the rest of us inside.
“You left your own man behind,” I said.
“Mateo is useful.”
“He is not indispensable.”
A heavy strike sounded against the gate.
Mateo shouted something we could not understand.
Beatriz ignored him.
She looked at the children again.
“Bring them forward.”
The armed men moved.
Daniel wrapped both arms around my waist.
Lucía stepped in front of him.
The two boys backed toward Elena.
“No,” I said.
The guards continued.
I stood, keeping one blood-covered hand pressed against Rosa’s wound.
“You said one of these children is biologically mine.”
Beatriz stopped the guards with a small movement.
“I did.”
“Prove it.”
“That will not change what happens.”
“It changes everything.”
A faint smile appeared.
“No, Laura.”
“Blood changes less than people imagine.”
“Your experience with Daniel should have taught you that.”
Daniel looked up at me.
I saw fear move across his face.
Beatriz wanted him to hear that he was not mine.
She wanted to weaken the one certainty he still had.
I pulled him closer.
“He is my son.”
“I did not say he was not.”
“You called him a subject.”
“That is what he was before you gave him a name.”
“He had a name before me.”
“Not one that mattered to the program.”
Rosa made a weak sound.
Beatriz’s gaze shifted toward her.
“Your devoted housekeeper knows the truth.”
“She also helped create the lie.”
Daniel looked at Rosa.
His expression changed.
He understood enough to be frightened.
“Mommy,” he whispered.
“Do not listen to her.”
“Look at me.”
He did.
“You are my son.”
“Nothing she says changes that.”
Beatriz sighed.
“You always were sentimental.”
“You say that like you knew me.”
“I have known you for much longer than you realize.”
The boathouse seemed to become colder.
“Where did we meet?”
“We did not.”
“But I studied your medical records.”
“Your blood.”
“Your family history.”
“Your fertility profile.”
My pulse changed.
I looked at Elena.
She stared at Beatriz with the same alarm I felt.
“What fertility profile?”
Beatriz turned toward one of the guards.
He carried a silver case to a table near the dock.
He opened it.
Four folders rested inside.
Each bore a number.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
A fifth folder lay beneath them.
It had my full name printed across the cover.
LAURA MARTÍNEZ RÍOS.
My maiden name.
My birth date.
A red stamp marked the corner.
GENETIC DONOR SOURCE.
I stared at the words.
“I was never a donor.”
“Not knowingly.”
My stomach turned.
Beatriz removed the folder.
“Ten years ago, you and Eduardo visited the San Gabriel Fertility Center.”
The memory surfaced slowly.
Three years before Daniel entered my life, Eduardo and I had tried to have a child.
We had spent nearly two years moving through hope, disappointment, medical appointments, and carefully controlled grief.
The San Gabriel clinic had promised answers.
After one unsuccessful treatment cycle, the doctor told us none of the remaining embryos were viable.
I had cried in the parking lot.
Eduardo had held me for nearly an hour.
Six months later, I became pregnant naturally.
Or at least, I had believed I had.
“You told me the embryos were destroyed,” I said.
Beatriz smiled.
“I told the clinic what to tell you.”
My knees nearly gave way.
“How many did you take?”
“Three.”
Elena stared at her.
“You stole human embryos.”
“I preserved valuable genetic material.”
“They were Laura’s children.”
“They were clusters of cells.”
“Until you implanted them.”
The smile disappeared from Beatriz’s face.
“One embryo was implanted.”
My eyes moved across the children.
Daniel.
Lucía.
The curly-haired boy.
The gray-eyed boy.
All of them looked terrified.
All of them waited for the adults to decide which life belonged to which lie.
“Which child?” I asked.
Beatriz lifted the folder labeled Subject Four.
“The boy you have been calling Gabriel.”
The gray-eyed child froze.
His face went completely still.
I stared at him.
He stared back.
I searched for myself in his features.
His eyes were gray.
Mine were brown.
His hair was black.
Mine was dark brown.
His face was narrower than mine.
There was nothing obvious.
Nothing cinematic.
No instant proof.
Then he tilted his head slightly.
The movement struck me.
I had seen it in photographs of myself as a child.
I had seen it in the mirror whenever I was confused.
A tiny unconscious motion.
A genetic echo.
“No,” he whispered.
Beatriz opened the folder.
“Subject Four was created from an embryo belonging to Laura Martínez and Eduardo Ríos.”
The boy looked toward Eduardo’s empty place as though expecting him to appear.
“He is my father?”
Beatriz’s expression remained cold.
“Biologically.”
A sharp pain moved through me.
Eduardo had known about the embryos.
Had he known one survived?
Had he known this boy existed?
Had he spent seven years raising Daniel while his biological child lived inside a laboratory program?
“His name is Gabriel?” I asked.
“No.”
Beatriz looked at the boy.
“That name was assigned six months ago.”
“What was his original name?”
“Subject Four.”
The child flinched.
I moved toward him.
One of the guards raised his weapon again.
I stopped.
The boy looked from me to Beatriz.
“Did she make me?”
Beatriz answered before I could.
“Her body produced the genetic material.”
“I created the conditions that allowed you to exist.”
“You did not create him,” I said.
“You stole him.”
“I saved him from destruction.”
“You stole my embryo.”
“You implanted it into another woman.”
“You took his name.”
“You took his family.”
“You turned him into an experiment.”
Beatriz’s eyes sharpened.
“And yet he is alive.”
“That is more than your clinic could promise.”
The boy’s breathing changed.
He looked toward me.
“Did you throw me away?”
The question hit harder than anything Beatriz had said.
I stepped forward again.
This time, I did not stop when the guard raised his weapon.
“I did not know you existed.”
“Stop,” the guard ordered.
I kept moving.
Beatriz lifted one hand.
The weapon lowered.
I stopped several feet from the boy.
“I was told there were no embryos left.”
“I believed all of them were gone.”
“I would have searched for you.”
“Do you know my real name?”
“No.”
His face closed.
“Then you do not know me.”
“You are right.”
The words hurt, but they were true.
“I do not know your favorite food.”
“I do not know what makes you laugh.”
“I do not know whether you are afraid of the dark.”
“I do not know what name feels like yours.”
“But none of that is because I chose to leave you.”
He looked down.
“Everyone says they did not choose.”
Lucía moved beside him.
“That is what adults say when they lie.”
Her voice was quiet.
Certain.
The boy looked at her.
She touched the pendant around her neck.
“Laura told me she was my mother.”
“Then Rosa said Silvana was.”
“Then Beatriz said the test was fake.”
“No one knows anything.”
Daniel stepped forward too.
“My mommy knows she loves me.”
Lucía glanced at him.
“That is different.”
Daniel nodded.
“Yes.”
“Maybe that is the only true part.”
The four children stood together.
Beatriz watched them with visible impatience.
“This reunion is touching.”
“It is also irrelevant.”
She turned toward her guards.
“Prepare them.”
The men moved again.
I placed myself between them and the children.
“Prepare them for what?”
“The final sequence.”
Rosa had used the same words.
“What is it?”
Beatriz looked toward the lake.
A white yacht waited beyond the dock.
Its engines were running.
“The treatment that began seven years ago was incomplete.”
“Subject Two received the first gene correction.”
“Subject One received a modified version after birth.”
“Subject Three carries the natural resistance marker.”
“And Subject Four was created from the strongest compatible embryo in the donor pool.”
“Donor pool?”
My voice shook with rage.
“You mean me.”
“You were one of several candidates.”
“Why was I selected?”
“Your maternal bloodline carries a rare protective variant.”
“Your mother had it.”
“So did her sister.”
I froze.
“My mother did not have a sister.”
Beatriz’s expression changed slightly.
“She did.”
I heard Elena inhale.
“Who?”
Beatriz looked toward Silvana’s absent place.
“Isabel Armenta.”
The name meant nothing at first.
Then the surname struck me.
Armenta.
Silvana.
Beatriz.
My mother’s supposed sister belonged to their family.
“That is impossible.”
“Your mother was born Isabel Armenta.”
“She left the family at nineteen.”
“She changed her name.”
“She buried every connection to us.”
I shook my head.
“My mother’s name was Teresa Martínez.”
“After she changed it.”
“You are lying.”
Beatriz removed a photograph from my file.
Two young women stood outside a grand stone house.
One was unmistakably my mother.
Younger.
Smiling.
Alive.
Beside her stood Beatriz.
They looked so similar that they could have been sisters.
My mother wore the same gold pendant now hanging around Lucía’s neck.
The back of the photograph contained a date from thirty years earlier.
Beneath it were two handwritten names.
Teresa Armenta.
Beatriz Armenta.
My hand trembled.
“You are my mother’s sister.”
“I was.”
The words held no emotion.
“Then you are my aunt.”
“Biologically.”
I almost laughed.
The word sounded poisonous in her mouth.
“You stole my child.”
“I reclaimed genetic property belonging to the Armenta line.”
The gray-eyed boy stepped backward.
“I am not property.”
Beatriz looked at him.
“You are the most successful result this family has produced.”
“I am a person.”
“You are both.”
“No,” Daniel said.
All the adults looked at him.
He stood in front of the other boy.
“He is not yours.”
Beatriz’s mouth tightened.
“You have your mother’s stubbornness.”
Daniel looked at me.
“She is my mother.”
“Not by blood.”
“By everything else.”
The answer came so quickly that my chest tightened.
Beatriz studied him.
“That loyalty is why Subject Three remains useful.”
I hated the way she spoke about him.
“What do you need from them?”
“All four children carry separate parts of the same genetic answer.”
“Together, their biological material may produce a permanent correction.”
“For Lucía’s heart?”
“For the mutation affecting my family.”
“Silvana?”
“And others.”
“You built an entire illegal program to protect your bloodline.”
“I built it to prevent children from dying.”
“You kidnapped them.”
“I reassigned them.”
“You drugged them.”
“I monitored them.”
“You killed people.”
“I removed threats.”
Rosa’s hand tightened around my ankle.
She was still conscious.
I knelt beside her again.
Her lips moved.
“Boat.”
“What?”
“Fuel line.”
I looked toward the yacht.
A thin trail of liquid shimmered along the dock beneath one engine.
Rosa had done something before we arrived.
Or someone else had.
The smell of fuel mixed with the lake air.
Beatriz did not seem to notice.
Rosa pulled weakly at my sleeve.
“Delay.”
I understood.
She needed time.
For what, I did not know.
I looked back at Beatriz.
“You said the final sequence requires all four.”
“Yes.”
“What happens to them?”
“They will be sedated.”
“Samples will be taken.”
“What kind of samples?”
“Blood.”
“Bone marrow.”
“Tissue.”
“How much?”
Beatriz’s silence answered.
The children might not survive.
“No.”
“You do not have a choice.”
“I already made one.”
I stood.
“You are not touching them.”
Beatriz looked almost bored.
“Your mother said the same thing.”
My breath stopped.
“When?”
“The night you were born.”
The boathouse disappeared around me.
“What did you do to her?”
“She discovered the program too early.”
“What program?”
“The first version.”
“You were part of it.”
I stared at her.
“I was a subject?”
“You were the original donor child.”
My skin went cold.
“My mother did not leave the Armenta family because of an argument.”
“She left because she learned what our father intended to do with you.”
“What did he intend?”
“Use your genetic resistance to treat the family mutation.”
“How?”
Beatriz’s eyes moved toward my chest.
“The same way I intend to use Subject Three.”
Daniel gripped my hand.
I understood.
Tissue.
Bone marrow.
Possibly organs.
My grandfather had planned to use me.
My mother had fled to save me.
Thirty years later, her sister had stolen my embryo and repeated the same crime.
“You became him,” I said.
For the first time, Beatriz’s control cracked.
“I perfected his work.”
“You became the monster my mother ran from.”
“She was weak.”
“She was brave enough to choose her child over her family.”
“She condemned dozens of people.”
“She saved me.”
“And now you will help save them.”
“No.”
Beatriz gave a small nod.
Two guards grabbed me.
Daniel screamed.
Lucía kicked one of them.
The curly-haired boy threw a metal instrument tray.
The gray-eyed boy ran toward the side door.
Another guard caught him around the waist.
Chaos exploded through the boathouse.
Elena struck a guard with the blood case.
Rosa rolled onto her side and reached beneath her shirt.
She pulled out a small remote.
Beatriz saw it.
Her eyes widened.
“Stop her.”
Rosa pressed the button.
The yacht exploded.
A wall of fire rose beyond the dock.
The blast shattered the boathouse windows.
The floor shook.
The armed men turned instinctively.
I drove my elbow into the guard holding me.
He released one arm.
I grabbed Daniel.
Elena pulled Lucía toward the water side of the building.
The two boys ducked beneath the table.
Smoke poured through the broken windows.
Beatriz shouted orders.
A second explosion tore through the rear of the yacht.
Flaming debris struck the dock.
One guard fell.
Another dropped his weapon.
Rosa raised her pistol from the floor and fired at the lights.
The boathouse went dark.
“Run,” she shouted.
We moved through smoke and splintered wood.
I held Daniel’s hand.
Lucía stayed beside Elena.
The curly-haired boy followed.
The gray-eyed boy was missing.
I stopped.
“Where is he?”
A child screamed behind us.
I turned.
Beatriz had him.
She held one arm around his neck and a small blade against his throat.
Firelight flickered across her white suit.
Blood marked one sleeve.
“Laura,” she said.
“You can leave with the other three.”
“Or you can stay for the child who is actually yours.”
Daniel tightened his grip on me.
The gray-eyed boy stared through the smoke.
His face was pale.
His lips trembled.
He did not call me Mommy.
He did not know me.
But he was still a child who had just learned that I was the mother he had never known.
Beatriz stepped backward toward a speedboat tied beneath the far platform.
“Choose.”
I looked at Daniel.
Then Lucía.
Then the curly-haired boy.
Then the child Beatriz held.
There was no choice.
A mother did not decide which child deserved rescue.
She found a way to save all of them.
I released Daniel’s hand.
“Go with Elena.”
“No.”
“Daniel.”
“You promised you would come back.”
“I will.”
Beatriz smiled.
“Your mother made that promise too.”
I stepped toward her.
Behind me, the burning yacht collapsed against the dock.
The curly-haired boy suddenly pointed toward the water.
“Someone is under the platform.”
A hand appeared between the wooden beams.
Then another.
A man pulled himself from the lake.
His shirt was soaked.
His face was bruised.
A chain hung from one wrist.
Eduardo climbed onto the dock.
He looked at the gray-eyed boy in Beatriz’s arms.
Then his expression shattered.
“My son.”
The child stared at him.
Eduardo took one step forward.
Beatriz pressed the blade closer.
“Do not move.”
Eduardo stopped.
“You knew he existed,” I said.
Tears filled his eyes.
“Yes.”
The word destroyed the last excuse he had left.
“You knew.”
“Not from the beginning.”
“How long?”
“Four years.”
The same amount of time he had known Daniel was not biologically his.
The same four years he had continued lying to everyone.
“I tried to get him out,” Eduardo said.
“I tried to bargain with Beatriz.”
“With my money.”
“With your company.”
“With the power of attorney.”
The truth landed.
He had planned to steal my assets not only to build a life with Silvana.
He had intended to buy back his biological son.
That did not excuse him.
It only revealed another layer of his cowardice.
“You could have told me.”
“I thought you would choose Daniel.”
“I would have chosen both.”
“I know that now.”
Beatriz began lowering herself toward the speedboat.
Smoke thickened around us.
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Officer Salgado and the police were approaching.
Beatriz looked toward the lake.
She knew she was running out of time.
“Eduardo,” she said.
“You know the terms.”
He stared at the blade against the boy’s throat.
“What terms?” I asked.
Eduardo did not look at me.
Beatriz smiled.
“One parent comes with me.”
“One remains with the other children.”
“The program needs an adult genetic source.”
My blood turned cold.
“Me.”
“You or Eduardo.”
“The child carries both of your markers.”
“One of you is sufficient for the next phase.”
Eduardo stepped forward.
“Take me.”
“No,” I said.
He looked at me.
For the first time since the nightmare began, there was no calculation in his face.
Only shame.
“I caused this.”
“Yes.”
“I cannot undo what I did to you.”
“No.”
“But I can keep her from taking you.”
Beatriz opened the speedboat door.
“Get in.”
Eduardo moved toward her.
The gray-eyed boy stared at him.
“Are you really my father?”
Eduardo stopped.
His face collapsed.
“Yes.”
“Do you know my name?”
The question cut through the fire and sirens.
Eduardo looked at Beatriz.
Then at the child.
“Yes.”
Beatriz’s expression changed.
“Do not.”
Eduardo ignored her.
“Your name is Nicolás.”
The boy’s eyes widened.
A memory moved through his face.
Not recognition.
Something deeper.
A sound remembered from infancy.
A name whispered before the program replaced it with a number.
“Nicolás,” he repeated.
Beatriz drove the blade against his skin.
A thin line of red appeared.
Eduardo lunged.
The gunshot came from behind us.
Eduardo jerked.
Blood spread across his chest.
He fell against the dock.
Daniel screamed.
I ran toward him.
At the same moment, the speedboat engine roared.
Beatriz dragged Nicolás inside.
The boat tore away from the platform.
I reached Eduardo as it disappeared into the smoke.
He collapsed into my arms.
His eyes struggled to remain open.
“Listen,” he whispered.
“Do not let her reach the island.”
“What island?”
“The foundation hospital.”
“Where?”
He coughed.
Blood touched his lips.
“Elena knows.”
I looked toward her.
She had gone completely pale.
“What does he mean?”
Eduardo gripped my wrist.
“There is one more file.”
“Subject Five.”
My heart stopped.
Beatriz had said there were four subjects.
Rosa had said four infants.
The records contained four numbers.
“What is Subject Five?”
Eduardo looked toward Daniel.
Then at Nicolás disappearing across the lake.
His voice became almost too faint to hear.
“Subject Five was never born.”
I leaned closer.
“What does that mean?”
His eyes filled with terror.
“It means Beatriz is not taking Nicolás to save him.”
May you like
“She is taking him to create the fifth child.”
Then Eduardo’s hand went limp.
