Unwanted Blood (Harper) novel Chapter 69

Chapter 69

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Chapter 69

Harper’s POV

The car stopped outside Lily’s building.

I thanked the driver and stepped onto the pavement. The door closed behind me, the engine pulled away, and I was alone on a quiet street, and didn’t go upstairs.

I sat on a bench across the road and watched people walk past. A woman pushing a stroller. A man in a suit checking his watch. Two teenagers laughing about something on a phone. Ordinary lives. Uncomplicated.

My phone was in my hand. The photo was on the screen.

Injection: Potassium Chloride – 20ml IV push.

I read them again. And again. And again.

My mother was killed by injection. In the delivery room. At the moment I was born. She died giving me life and someone made sure she wouldn’t leave the hospital to tell anyone about it.

I thought finding the truth would feel like something. Relief. Vindication. Anger. Anything.

Instead I felt hollow. A cold, empty space where the question had lived for sixteen years. The question was gone now. Words that changed nothing about the fact that she was dead and I’d never heard her voice until tonight.

Footsteps on the pavement. Fast. Then a weight on my shoulders-fabric, warmth, the smell of Lily’s laundry detergent.

She sat down beside me without a word, her shoulder pressing against mine. We sat like that for a long time.

“I found the evidence,” I said finally. My voice was flat. Empty. “But knowing the truth doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Lily’s hand found mine. Her fingers were warm.

“That’s normal,” she said quietly. “But you can’t sit out here alone with it.”

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Chapter 69

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didn’t argue I stood, pulled the coat tighter around my shoulders, and followed her upstairs.

The safe house door was unlocked when we got to it. I pushed it open and stepped inside

Ryder was on the sofa, his laptop open, his eyes lifting the moment I walked in. Colton was at the kitchen table, surrounded by printouts and a half-empty coffee cup. Ethan was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, a glass of water in his hand.

They were all waiting.

Ryder closed his laptop. He stood.

“Eat first,” he said. I nodded, then sat down at the table.

Colton pushed a plate toward me-rice, chicken, vegetables. Still warm. He’d been keeping it ready.

I ate slowly. Each bite tasted like nothing. But the act of eating grounded me in a way nothing else had all day.

For the first time since I’d walked out of the Westbrook estate, I felt my shoulders drop. I felt air reach the bottom of my lungs.

When the plate was empty, I pulled out my phone. I unlocked it, opened the photo, and slid the phone to the centre of the table so all of them could see.

The room went quiet.

“The letter from our father’s safe,” I said, looking at Ryder. “The nurse’s testimony. The bank transfer record. And this.” I tapped the screen. “A handwritten medical order from the week our mother died.” I looked at each of them in turn. “All of it points to the same person. Dylan Westbrook. He walked into the delivery room. He gave the order. He killed my mother.”

Colton leaned forward, studying the photo, his brow furrowed.

“Potassium chloride in high doses causes cardiac arrest,” he said. “On paper, it looks like a natural complication. If no one flagged it at the time, there’s no autopsy record, no toxicology report. After sixteen years, it’s almost impossible to reopen a case on circumstantial evidence alone.”

“I know,” I said. “The documents are enough to raise suspicion. But they’re not enough for a conviction. Not without someone saying the words out loud.”

I paused. My eyes moved to Ryder. “We need someone to confess.”

Ryder’s jaw tightened. “Adrian?”

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Chapter 69

I shook my head. “Adrian won’t do it.

Colton frowned. “Then who?”

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I took a breath. My fingers traced the edge of the table. “Dylan Westbrook himself,” I said “He’s still alive. I know where he is.”

Ryder’s expression shifted. “You want to go back.” I nodded.

“No.” His voice was immediate. Final. “You just got out. You’re not going back into that house.”

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