Chapter 15 - The Door Left Open
We did not guess the password.
Three failed attempts could destroy the remaining archive, and I had learned what happened when people accepted choices designed by strangers.
Marcus disconnected the computer from the network.
The screen remained active.
“It has an internal power source,” he said.
“For how long?”
“Possibly years.”
We photographed every item in the room without moving anything else.
The birth certificate.
The genetic report.
My mother’s notes.
The photographs of Adrian.
A ledger containing payments to clinics and private schools.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Dr. Samuel Calder.
Not an investor.
Not a consultant.
A doctor.
The earliest payment dated back thirty-two years, before Marcus was born.
“What kind of doctor?” I asked.
Marcus searched an offline database.
“Psychiatry and behavioral research.”
The Continuity Project had not begun with money.
The financial crimes funded something older.
Something involving identities, memory, family relationships, and children.
The personal files in the underground facility were not merely tools for theft.
They were research.
I thought of the woman who looked like my mother.
Her copied expressions.
Her knowledge of private stories.
The way she said Calder was a function, not a person.
Perhaps the network did not replace people physically.
Perhaps it replaced their records, relationships, and histories until no one could prove who they had been.
Marcus sat beside the desk.
“Our mother changed our names, moved us across the country, and hid the trust.”
“She was running.”
“From Adrian?”
“From Calder.”
“Maybe both.”
The computer beeped.
A new message appeared beneath the password prompt.
EXTERNAL ACCESS REQUEST DETECTED.
Someone was trying to enter the system remotely.
Marcus reached behind the computer and pulled the network cable.
There was no cable.
The machine was supposedly offline.
Yet the access request continued.
The screen displayed a location.
Our home address.
I called Lena.
She answered immediately.
“What is happening?” I asked.
“Noah is with me.”
“Is anyone outside?”
She checked the security cameras.
“A police vehicle just arrived.”
My blood turned cold.
“Did you call them?”
“No.”
“Do not open the door.”
On the computer screen, the external access request changed.
CONNECTION ESTABLISHED.
The live feed from our bedroom appeared.
The open suitcase remained on the bed exactly where I had left it.
Clothes lay scattered across the carpet from the airport attack and the later police search.
A shadow crossed the bedroom.
“Someone is inside the house,” I said.
Lena’s voice sharpened.
“I’m moving Noah to the safe room.”
“Stay on the phone.”
The bedroom camera angle shifted.
A man entered the frame.
Silver hair.
A scar along the left side of his face.
Calder.
He looked directly into the hidden camera as though he could see us watching.
Then he raised a photograph.
It showed my mother holding two infants.
One child was Marcus.
The other was me.
Behind her stood Adrian.
Beside Adrian stood Dr. Samuel Calder.
The man on the screen was neither of them.
He smiled.
The computer speakers activated.
“Hello, Elena.”
Marcus drew his weapon, though the man was miles away.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“You are still asking the wrong question.”
“What happened to my mother?”
“She made you difficult to control.”
“Where did you get her voice?”
“From the same place she obtained yours.”
I looked at Marcus.
The sentence made no sense.
Calder continued.
“The archive you opened was not designed to protect the Mercer family.”
“What was it designed to do?”
“To determine which version of the family survived.”
Behind him, the bedroom door opened.
Noah stepped into view.
My entire body went cold.
Lena shouted through the phone.
“Evelyn, he isn’t here!”
I stared at the child on the computer screen.
He wore Noah’s blue pajamas.
He held a stuffed fox identical to the one in my handbag.
But Noah was with Lena.
Or someone Lena believed was Noah.
The boy in the bedroom looked into the camera.
“Mom,” he whispered, “Daddy has a girlfriend.”
The exact words Noah had spoken beside my suitcase.
The same trembling voice.
The same frightened expression.
Calder placed one hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Children remember what they are taught to remember,” he said.
I gripped the desk.
“Where is my son?”
“That depends on which child you believe is yours.”
The video feed divided into two screens.
On the left, Lena stood inside a secure room with Noah holding her hand.
On the right, Calder stood in my bedroom with the identical child.
Both boys looked at the camera.
Both had the small crescent-shaped birthmark near the right temple.
Both began to cry at the same moment.
Marcus whispered, “This is impossible.”
Calder smiled.
“Your mother said the same thing.”
The computer requested the password again.
WHO WAS ADRIAN MERCER BEFORE HE ENTERED OUR FAMILY?
Two attempts remaining.
A countdown appeared beneath the question.
Twenty-four hours.
Calder leaned toward the camera.
“Open the second archive, Elena, and you will learn which boy came from your home.”
The screen went black.
My phone remained connected to Lena.
Her voice shook.
“Evelyn, Noah says he needs to tell you something.”
“Put him on.”
A child breathed into the phone.
“Mom?”
I closed my eyes.
“I’m here.”
“The lady who looked like Grandma told me a secret.”
“What secret?”
“She said Daddy wasn’t the first person who tried to replace someone in our family.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Who was the first?”
The child began to answer.
Then the call disconnected.
May you like
On the dark computer screen, one final sentence appeared.
ASK MARCUS WHY HE HAS NO MEMORIES BEFORE HIS SEVENTH BIRTHDAY.
