Chapter 22 - The Other ThomasSamuel led them down two levels.
William followed under guard after federal teams breached the outer gate.
The children were being evacuated.
But Third House still had secrets.
Samuel stopped before an old wooden door embedded inexplicably in the modern corridor.
A cedar tree had been carved into its center.
He inserted the brass key.
Thomas stared.
“I’ve seen this.”
“Where?”
“In Caldwell Manor.”
Edward remembered.
A painting in his father’s private office.
Two boys beside a cedar tree.
One was Edward.
The other had been painted over.
They entered.
Inside hung dozens of portraits.
Children.
Each painted at approximately twelve years old.
Some Edward recognized from Archive Zero.
Missing heirs.
Dead children.
Future replacements.
Then Thomas stopped.
Two nearly identical portraits hung beside one another.
Thomas Caldwell.
And another boy.
Same dark hair.
Same build.
Different eyes.
The plaque beneath read:
THOMAS CALDWELL A
THOMAS CALDWELL B
Edward felt dizzy.
William closed his eyes.
Thomas turned.
“What is this?”
William said nothing.
“WHAT IS THIS?”
Samuel backed away.
Edward stepped between Thomas and William.
William finally spoke.
“When we took you, your survival was uncertain.”
Thomas stared.
“So you made a replacement.”
“We had one prepared.”
“A child?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to him?”
William looked toward the second portrait.
“He became unstable.”
Edward’s stomach turned.
“Meaning?”
“He believed he was Thomas too strongly.”
Thomas almost laughed.
“You trained a child to think he was me and then punished him for believing it?”
“He became uncontrollable.”
Samuel whispered, “He lived here.”
William looked sharply at him.
Samuel continued.
“He helped me.”
The portrait boy.
Thomas B had survived.
For years.
Older now.
Hidden somewhere inside Third House.
The speaker system crackled.
A man’s voice filled the corridor.
“Hello, William.”
William went white.
Thomas looked upward.
The voice continued.
“I told Samuel someone would eventually come.”
Edward stepped toward the nearest camera.
“Who are you?”
A soft laugh.
“You know.”
Thomas stared at his own duplicate portrait.
“No.”
The voice answered.
“My name is Aaron.”
A door opened behind the final portrait.
A man emerged.
Thirty-one.
Same approximate age as Thomas.
Similar face.
Not identical.
Scar across one eyebrow.
William whispered:
“You were terminated.”
May you like
Aaron smiled.
“You really should stop believing your own paperwork.”
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