Chapter 8: The Truth About My Birth
Nobody moved.
I stared at Dad.
“Say that again.””
He looked at me.
His face was destroyed by regret.
“Emily…”
“Say it.””
Mom covered her face.
Victor remained at the top of the stairs.
“You wanted the truth,” he said.
“Now you're getting it.””
Michael raised his weapon.
“Step into the light.””
Victor laughed.
“Still giving orders, Michael?””
“Now.””
Victor stepped forward.
The flashlight caught his face.
Older.
Thinner.
But unmistakable.
The scar on his neck was exactly where I remembered it.
I felt my stomach twist.
“You were there.””
Victor smiled.
“You remember me.””
Mom whispered, “Don't look at him.””
“Why?””
“Because he wants you to remember.””
Victor shook his head.
“That's not why I want her to remember.””
He looked directly at me.
“I want her to understand.””
Dad moved toward him.
“You're not taking her.””
Victor's smile disappeared.
“You already took her.””
Dad stopped.
“You stole her identity. You stole her childhood. You stole the name of the man who died protecting her.””
“I kept her alive.””
“You kept her ignorant.””
Mom screamed.
“Stop!””
Her voice echoed through the basement.
She turned toward me.
“Emily, listen to me.””
I stared at her.
“Am I your daughter?””
She cried.
“Yes.””
“Then what did he mean?””
Mom looked at Dad.
Dad closed his eyes.
Michael lowered his weapon slightly.
“Sarah.””
She shook her head.
“Not here.””
“Now,” I said.
My voice surprised me.
It didn't sound like a frightened child anymore.
It sounded like someone who was done being lied to.
Mom wiped her face.
“You are my daughter.””
I waited.
“But Ethan wasn't your biological father.””
I swallowed.
“Then who was?””
Silence.
Victor answered.
“Me.””
The basement seemed to tilt.
I stared at him.
“No.””
“Yes.””
Dad moved instantly.
Michael blocked him.
“Don't.””
Dad struggled.
“You killed Ethan!””
Victor smiled.
“Ethan was not her biological father.””
“You murdered him.””
“Yes.””
Mom sobbed.
“You promised.””
Victor's expression hardened.
“And you promised me something too.””
“What?””
“You promised you'd give me my daughter.””
I stepped backward.
“My daughter?””
Victor looked at me.
“When you were born, your mother and I were together.””
Mom whispered, “It wasn't what you think.””
Victor continued.
“She discovered what Blackridge was doing and tried to escape.””
Mom shook her head.
“You were never supposed to know.””
“I always knew.””
Victor's eyes remained on me.
“You were born with a genetic condition.””
Michael interrupted.
“What condition?””
Victor smiled.
“Not a disease.””
He pointed toward the black metal box.
“Something much more valuable.””
Dad looked at me.
“Your blood.””
I stared at him.
“My blood?””
Victor said, “Your mother worked on a classified genetics project before she joined Blackridge.””
Mom's voice broke.
“I didn't know what they were doing.””
“You knew enough.””
“I found out later.””
Victor nodded.
“And then you discovered the truth.””
I looked at Mom.
“What truth?””
She swallowed.
“Blackridge had been collecting biological samples from people with rare genetic markers.””
“And mine?””
“They found it in you.””
Michael's face hardened.
“What marker?””
Mom shook her head.
“One that could be used to identify certain individuals with extraordinary resistance to a neurological toxin.””
I blinked.
“What?””
Victor stepped closer.
“Blackridge had developed a chemical weapon.””
Michael's eyes widened.
“And you were trying to find an antidote.””
Victor smiled.
“Your mother was.””
Mom looked at me.
“When I became pregnant, they discovered your genetic profile.””
“And they wanted me?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because they believed your blood could help them manufacture the antidote.””
I stared at my hands.
“So I was a test subject?””
“No.””
Mom rushed toward me.
“I never allowed them to touch you.””
Victor laughed.
“You didn't have a choice.””
Dad stepped forward.
“I got her out.””
Victor's eyes moved to him.
“You helped them.””
“I saved her.””
“You stole her.””
Dad's voice hardened.
“I took her away from you.””
Victor's smile vanished.
“You took my daughter.””
I stared at Victor.
“Why did you kill Ethan?””
“Because he found the archive.””
“What archive?””
“The one containing your genetic records.””
Michael looked at the box.
“So the files weren't evidence.””
Victor shook his head.
“They were leverage.””
I looked at Mom.
“Why did you put us in witness protection?””
“Because I testified against Blackridge.””
“And Ethan?””
“He was killed before the transfer.””
Dad lowered his head.
“I couldn't save him.””
I looked at him.
“Then why did you become him?””
He took a breath.
“Because Blackridge was still searching for Sarah Vale and Emily Carter.””
“So you became Ethan.””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because Ethan was listed as alive.””
Michael added quietly, “And Daniel had access to his identity.””
I looked at the floor.
“Then who am I?””
Mom stepped toward me.
“You're Emily.””
“That isn't enough.””
Victor laughed softly.
“It never was.””
I looked at him.
“What do you want?””
He reached into his coat.
Michael raised his weapon.
“Slowly.””
Victor pulled out a small envelope.
He placed it on the floor.
“Your original birth records.””
Mom gasped.
“I thought those were destroyed.””
“They weren't.””
Victor looked at me.
“There's one more thing you should know.””
He turned toward the stairs.
“Your father isn't the only person who lied about your birth.””
I looked at Mom.
“What does that mean?””
Victor began walking away.
Michael shouted, “Stop!””
Victor paused.
Then he looked back.
“Ask Sarah who signed the adoption papers.””
“I wasn't adopted.””
Victor smiled.
“Read them.””
He disappeared into the darkness.
Michael ran up the stairs.
Dad followed.
I remained beside Mom.
She couldn't look at me.
“Mom?””
She cried silently.
“Who signed them?””
She finally whispered:
“Michael.””
My heart stopped.
“The man who saved us?””
She nodded.
“He wasn't supposed to be saving us.””
I turned toward the stairs.
Michael was coming back down.
His face was pale.
He looked at the envelope.
Then at me.
“Emily…”
I held up my hand.
“Don't.””
He stopped.
“You signed my adoption papers.””
He said nothing.
“You knew?””
“Yes.””
“Everything?””
“No.””
I stepped closer.
“What didn't you know?””
Michael looked at Mom.
Then Dad.
Finally, he looked at me.
“I didn't know Victor was your biological father.””
I laughed bitterly.
“Everyone knew more than me.””
Michael reached into his jacket.
“I found something upstairs.””
He handed me a second photograph.
It showed my mother holding me as a newborn.
Behind her stood Victor.
And beside Victor was another man.
A man I didn't recognize.
But Dad did.
He whispered:
“That can't be him.””
I looked at him.
“Who?””
Dad stared at the photograph.
“The director of Blackridge.””
Michael took the photo from my hand.
His expression changed.
“That's impossible.””
“Why?””
“Because he died seventeen years ago.””
I looked at the photograph again.
The man was holding a newborn blanket.
On the blanket was a hospital tag.
My name.
May you like
But beneath *Emily Carter*, another name had been written in red ink.
*SUBJECT 001.*
