Chapter 5 - THE HOUSE BENEATH THE HOUSE
The hospital lockdown lasted until dawn.
Security searched every floor. Police reviewed entrances, badges, and surveillance recordings.
The dead man’s identification was false.
His fingerprints did not match any national database.
The capsule hidden inside his tooth contained cyanide.
Detective Ortiz stood near Claire’s window as morning light spread across the city.
“He came here expecting not to leave,” she said.
Claire held the photograph of her mother inside a transparent evidence sleeve.
“Where was this taken?”
“We’re analyzing the architecture and background.”
“Is it recent?”
“The photographic paper is less than two years old.”
Claire traced the outline of her mother’s face through the plastic.
Amelia looked older than she should have.
Her hair, once dark, was almost entirely white. Her left hand rested against the window. Around her wrist was a hospital band.
Claire could not read the name.
“Daniel knew she was alive.”
“Maybe.”
“He told me not to let them take the baby.”
“He may have been trying to frighten you.”
“He was already afraid.”
Ortiz turned.
“Of his mother?”
“Of whoever she answered to.”
Dr. Patel entered after reviewing the latest tests.
“The compound concentration is falling,” she said. “The baby’s blood flow has improved.”
Claire exhaled.
“Can I go home?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Stopping the compound appears to have triggered an immune response.”
“What kind?”
“Your body is producing antibodies we don’t normally see in pregnancy.”
“Are they attacking the baby?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Claire looked at the monitor.
The heartbeat continued its rapid rhythm.
Ortiz’s phone rang.
She answered, listened, and ended the call without speaking.
“What happened?” Claire asked.
“The search team found another level beneath your basement.”
Claire stared at her.
“There is no other level.”
“There is now.”
Two hours later, Ortiz showed Claire photographs from the search.
Behind the false wall was a steel door concealed beneath removable flooring. A narrow staircase descended into a concrete room.
The space contained a medical chair, refrigeration units, a desk, and a wall covered in photographs.
Most were of Claire.
Several showed her sleeping.
One showed her in a hospital gown after an early miscarriage two years earlier.
Claire dropped the photograph.
“I was told no one entered that recovery room except Daniel.”
Ortiz placed another image on the table.
It showed Evelyn standing beside Claire’s bed and holding a syringe.
Claire’s hands began to shake.
“I don’t remember her being there.”
“That may be the point.”
The desk contained notebooks written partly in code.
One entry was readable.
A-17 REMAINS UNAWARE.
FETAL VIABILITY EXCEEDS PREVIOUS ATTEMPTS.
MORNING DOSAGE INCREASED.
MATERNAL RECALL SUPPRESSION EFFECTIVE.
Claire pressed a hand to her mouth.
“Previous attempts?”
Dr. Patel took the paper.
“How many pregnancies have you had?”
“Three.”
“You told me about one miscarriage.”
Claire’s eyes filled with tears.
“I thought the other two were late periods.”
Ortiz looked toward Dr. Patel.
“Could medication cause her not to realize she was pregnant?”
“Yes.”
Claire pushed the papers away.
“They were testing me.”
Ortiz hesitated.
“There was another room.”
She showed Claire a photograph of a wall-mounted freezer.
Inside were labeled containers.
A-17 BLOOD.
A-17 OOCYTES.
F-03 TISSUE.
F-04 TISSUE.
F-05 ACTIVE.
Claire looked down at her stomach.
“F-05 is my baby.”
No one answered.
The door opened, and an officer entered.
“Detective, Daniel Hale is asking to speak with his wife.”
Ortiz shook her head.
“No.”
“He says he’ll explain Project Eve, but only to her.”
Claire looked at the photograph of the hidden room.
“I want to hear him.”
Dr. Patel objected immediately.
“You’re under severe stress.”
“I need to know whether my baby was conceived naturally.”
The question silenced the room.
Claire looked at Dr. Patel.
“Can you tell from the records?”
“Not yet.”
Ortiz arranged a monitored video call.
Daniel appeared on a screen from an interview room at the police station. He wore a gray detention uniform. Without his suit and controlled surroundings, he looked younger and more fragile.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Claire held up the notebook page.
“What is F-05?”
Daniel looked away.
“Our child.”
“Was the baby conceived naturally?”
“Yes.”
Claire watched his face.
He was lying.
“You drugged me.”
“I kept the treatment stable.”
“You poisoned me.”
“I prevented your body from killing the baby.”
“My body?”
Daniel leaned toward the camera.
“Your mother changed you before you were born.”
Claire stopped breathing.
“She designed an immune response that rejects certain fetal markers.”
“Why?”
“To prevent Project Eve from using her descendants.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You were supposed to be the last viable carrier.”
Claire placed both hands on the table.
“Carrier of what?”
Daniel looked toward someone outside the camera’s view.
“They’re listening.”
“The police are supposed to be listening.”
“Not the police.”
The screen flickered.
Daniel’s image froze.
Then a new message appeared in white letters.
CLAIRE, DO NOT BELIEVE HIM.
A second line followed.
May you like
YOUR HUSBAND DID NOT CREATE F-05.
The video feed went black.
