Chapter 9 - Henry’s Last Christmas
Henry died on December 26, 2023.
Heart attack.
At home.
Patricia found him.
No suspicious trauma.
No reason anyone questioned it.
Now Daniel did.
Not because every death needed conspiracy.
Because Raymond had been nearby.
Records showed Raymond booked a hotel under his own name.
No hiding.
He met Henry twice.
Patricia knew?
“No.”
Henry’s calendar showed:
R.C. — final terms.
What terms?
Then Michael remembered Henry had become unusually calm before death.
He told Michael:
“If I can fix one mistake, maybe Christmas can belong to the children again.”
Daniel hated how dead men always sounded prophetic after secrets emerged.
They located Raymond.
No chase.
No hidden mansion.
Assisted-living community outside Cleveland.
Parkinson’s.
Wheelchair.
Sharp mind.
He agreed to speak.
Patricia refused to go.
Claire went.
Daniel too.
Raymond looked at Claire for a long time.
“You look like your mother.”
Claire stared.
“You interfered with my embryos.”
“Yes.”
No denial.
“Why?”
“I wanted proof you were mine.”
“You knew I wasn't.”
“Henry said that.”
“You didn’t believe him.”
“No.”
So Raymond created J-4 using Andrew’s sperm because if Claire carried Raymond’s recessive family variant, embryo testing could support biological relation.
Unethical.
Illegal.
Absurdly indirect.
But obsession rarely chooses clean logic.
When results contradicted him, he finally accepted Claire wasn’t his.
Then why keep everything secret?
Fear of prosecution.
Reputation.
Control.
Then Anna discovered it.
Raymond used information about her lost child to silence her.
“Did you know where her daughter was?”
“Yes.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Where?”
Raymond looked at Patricia.
“Not with her.”
“Where?”
He whispered:
“With Henry.”
Silence.
Claire stood.
“My father had Anna’s child?”
“Not personally.”
Henry had located the girl years earlier and funded her care secretly.
After the forged placement, the child moved through two guardianships.
Eventually one family kept her permanently but never finalized adoption because records were legally tangled.
Henry discovered the family in 2018.
He chose not to uproot her.
Correct.
Instead he quietly paid for education and therapy.
Then:
“Who is she?”
Raymond looked at Daniel.
“You know her.”
Again.
Daniel’s stomach sank.
Not Lily.
Age wrong.
Not Rachel.
Not Claire.
Who?
Molly? No—wrong story.
Think.
Someone in their life around ten or eleven.
Then Daniel remembered Lily’s babysitter.
Emma Lewis.
Twenty-two.
College student.
Had worked for them for three years.
Could she be?
Born 2012 would make eleven.
No.
Wrong.
Henry’s notes had wrong timeline?
Wait.
The baby was born in 2012.
Current 2024? Lily 6 and Christmas perhaps 2026? Hmm current story time maybe unspecified. If Henry died 2023 and Lily 6 in current maybe 2026, Anna's child 14. So potentially a teenager.
Claire suddenly whispered:
“Sophie.”
Daniel turned.
Claire’s goddaughter.
Fourteen.
Daughter of Claire’s childhood friend Megan.
Except Megan adopted Sophie through kinship placement years ago.
Daniel stared.
“Is Sophie Anna’s child?”
Raymond nodded.
Patricia gasped.
Claire began crying.
Sophie had attended their Christmas dinners for years.
Anna’s lost daughter had been inside the family orbit without anyone knowing.
Then Raymond added:
“Henry knew.”
Why not tell Anna?
Because Sophie’s guardian Megan feared Anna was unstable after years of harassment connected to Raymond.
Henry planned a mediated disclosure.
Then died.
Raymond claimed he and Henry reached an agreement on Christmas Eve.
Raymond would provide all embryo records.
Henry would arrange safe contact between Anna and Sophie.
Two days later Henry died.
“Did you kill him?”
Raymond laughed bitterly.
“I can barely stand.”
“Did someone?”
“No.”
Then he handed Daniel a voicemail.
Henry’s final message.
Recorded Christmas night.
“Raymond, Patricia found the letters.”
Patricia went pale.
Daniel stared at her.
“You knew before he died?”
She whispered:
“I found one.”
“What did you do?”
May you like
Patricia started crying.
“I burned it.”
