Chapter 8 - The Third Olivia
The woman on the hospital bed had my face.
Not a younger version.
Not an older version.
Mine.
The same line between my eyebrows. The same small scar near my left temple. The same brown eyes that appeared almost black when I was angry.
Even the light blue dress was identical to the one I wore.
She sat up slowly.
The white sheet slid from her shoulders.
“Hello, Livvy,” she said again.
Chloe pressed both hands against the glass of her corridor.
“Mommy?”
The woman turned toward her.
Her expression softened with perfect maternal warmth.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
My daughter smiled.
For one horrifying second, Chloe believed the woman was me.
Then she looked back at me.
Confusion replaced the smile.
“Why are there two mommies?”
Three, I thought.
The little girl beside Marcus tightened her grip around his hand.
Helen aimed her pistol at Silas Vale.
“Open every door.”
Vale remained calm.
“You still believe weapons control this room.”
Marcus moved toward the central console.
Vale placed one finger over a small red switch.
“Touch it, and the oxygen supply to the sleeping wing shuts down.”
Marcus stopped.
Thirty-one lights remained visible in the dark corridor.
Thirty-one children.
Perhaps more than thirty-one lives if Vale was lying.
Eleanor stepped closer to the operating-room glass.
Her face looked impossibly young for a woman who should have been more than ninety years old.
Marcus stared at her.
“Daniel said you are my mother.”
Eleanor’s eyes filled with affection.
“In the way that matters most.”
“That is not an answer.”
“You were created from my cells.”
“And Gabriel’s.”
“Yes.”
“Who was Gabriel?”
She glanced toward Daniel.
He lowered his head.
“My son,” Eleanor said.
The little girl looked up at Marcus.
“Does that make her your mommy?”
Marcus did not answer.
Vale smiled.
“Family language becomes complicated when science advances beyond tradition.”
I stepped toward him.
“Stop calling this science.”
“What would you call it?”
“Kidnapping. Experimentation. Murder.”
“Those are legal interpretations.”
“Children are not interpretations.”
His gaze moved toward the little girl.
“Subject A has never lived outside this facility. She has no legal birth, no education record and no citizenship. To the world, she does not exist.”
“She exists to me.”
The child looked at me.
Something changed in her expression.
Not trust yet.
But hope.
Vale noticed.
“That is exactly the emotional weakness Rosewood was designed to overcome.”
Helen raised the pistol higher.
“Do not speak about weakness.”
“You abandoned both daughters.”
“To keep them alive.”
“You preserved one and surrendered the other.”
“I did what I could.”
“You always say that after failure.”
Helen fired.
The bullet struck the control panel beside Vale’s head.
Sparks erupted.
Every corridor alarm activated.
The sleeping-wing lights changed from white to yellow.
Vale did not flinch.
He touched a hidden switch beneath the console.
Thick steel barriers began descending over all five glass corridors.
“Mommy!” Chloe screamed.
I ran toward her.
The barrier dropped between us.
The last thing I saw was her hand pressed against the glass.
Then steel covered her completely.
Marcus rushed to the little girl’s corridor, but its barrier fell as well.
She remained on our side.
Daniel, Thomas, Chloe, Eleanor and the third Olivia disappeared behind sealed walls.
The operating chamber became a circular prison.
“You just endangered your granddaughter,” I told Helen.
“She endangered no one,” Vale said. “I did.”
Marcus aimed his pistol at him.
“Raise the barriers.”
“Complete the selection.”
“There will be no selection.”
“Then the doors stay closed.”
Owens groaned from the transport chair.
His blood transfusion had slowed the bleeding, but his skin remained pale.
Evelyn crouched beside him.
“We need to reach the clinic.”
Vale glanced at the injured firefighter.
“He has approximately twelve minutes.”
“You could save him,” I said.
“I could save everyone in this room.”
“Then do it.”
“Place both hands on the scanners.”
Two glass panels illuminated at the center console.
DAUGHTER A.
DAUGHTER B.
The little girl looked at me.
“Will it open Chloe’s door?”
Vale smiled at her.
“Yes.”
Helen stepped between them.
“Do not speak to him.”
“But Chloe is scared.”
“He will use that.”
The child looked at the sealed corridor.
“He already is.”
I crouched before her.
“What do you remember about the hand scanners?”
She thought carefully.
“They make the doors wake up.”
“Do they hurt?”
“Sometimes.”
Marcus moved closer.
“What happens after both hands are placed?”
“Dr. Vale chooses the good one.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happens to the other one?”
The girl’s gaze dropped.
“She goes to the white room.”
Vale’s voice remained gentle.
“The white room is a medical recovery area.”
The child shook her head.
“No.”
Everyone turned toward her.
“What is it?” I asked.
She whispered, “It is where people stop having names.”
Helen closed her eyes.
Evelyn stood.
“How many children did you send there?”
Vale’s expression finally hardened.
“Children whose bodies could not support continued treatment.”
“You killed them.”
“I ended unsuccessful trials.”
The little girl backed away from him.
Marcus positioned himself in front of her.
“You will never touch her again.”
Vale studied him.
“You have said that before.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Vale pressed another control.
A screen appeared above the sealed corridors.
Security footage began playing.
The date in the corner was eight years earlier.
Marcus entered the lower clinic wearing a dark suit. He looked younger, but not by much.
The little girl sat inside a glass room.
She appeared exactly as she did now.
Nine years old.
Marcus knelt beside her bed.
He touched her face.
“I’m getting you out,” he said in the recording.
“You promised last time,” she replied.
“I know.”
“Dr. Vale said you picked the outside Olivia.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“I didn’t pick anyone.”
“Then why does she get your house?”
“She doesn’t know about you.”
“She has a baby.”
Marcus looked toward the camera.
“She is going to have one.”
My chest tightened.
Eight years ago, Chloe had not been born.
But I had been pregnant.
Our first pregnancy.
The child we were told had died after twelve weeks.
I turned toward Marcus.
“You came here while I was pregnant?”
He stared at the floor.
“Yes.”
Vale continued the footage.
The little girl touched Marcus’s hand.
“Will the baby look like me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can I be her sister?”
Marcus struggled to answer.
“One day.”
The recording ended.
I looked at him.
“What happened to that pregnancy?”
His face broke.
“Olivia.”
“What happened?”
“It was not a miscarriage.”
Helen whispered a curse.
Evelyn covered her mouth.
Marcus moved toward me.
I stepped backward.
“What did you do?”
“I did not know until afterward.”
“After what?”
“Vale took the embryo.”
The room became silent.
I could hear only Owens’s labored breathing.
“My baby was alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Marcus looked toward the dark sleeping corridor.
“Subject Thirty-One.”
I could not understand.
Not at first.
Then the DNA report returned to my memory.
Chloe.
Marcus.
Me.
Subject Thirty-One.
Genetic compatibility 99.98 percent.
“The original genetic source,” I whispered.
Vale smiled.
“Very good.”
I stared at the thirty-one yellow lights.
“Subject Thirty-One is my first child?”
“Your first successful pregnancy,” Vale said.
“She was removed before development could continue naturally.”
My knees weakened.
Marcus reached for me.
I struck him.
The sound echoed through the chamber.
“You let me mourn her.”
“I thought she had died.”
“You found out.”
“Three months later.”
“And you stayed silent for eight years.”
“I was trying to find her.”
“You knew where she was.”
“I knew the program held her genetic line. I did not know which chamber.”
The little girl watched us with wide eyes.
“Is Subject Thirty-One my sister too?”
I could not answer.
Vale did.
“She is the bridge between all three Olivias.”
Helen turned toward him.
“What did you create?”
“Continuity.”
The word made me sick.
He gestured toward the sealed operating room.
“The adult Olivia you saw was developed from the preserved material taken during Olivia Parker’s first pregnancy.”
I stared at the steel barrier hiding the woman with my face.
“She is my daughter?”
“Genetically, the relationship is less simple.”
“How old is she?”
“Her body is thirty-one.”
“That is impossible.”
“Accelerated maturation has improved.”
Evelyn stepped forward.
“You grew an adult body in eight years?”
Vale looked pleased.
“Not merely a body.”
“You gave her memories,” Helen said.
“Olivia’s memories.”
I touched my head.
“How?”
“Marcus collected them.”
Everyone looked at him.
His face drained of color.
“No.”
Vale smiled.
“Phone recordings. Personal journals. Medical scans. Sleep studies. Home surveillance. Every emotional pattern needed to construct a convincing continuity model.”
I stared at my husband.
“You gave him my life.”
“I gave him data because he threatened Chloe.”
“Chloe wasn’t born yet.”
“Later.”
“And before that?”
He looked toward the little girl.
“I was trying to earn access.”
I laughed once.
It sounded unfamiliar.
“You married me to reach her. You recorded me to protect Chloe. You lied to everyone for someone else.”
“I loved you.”
“You do not get to use that word.”
The chamber lights dimmed.
Owens coughed again.
Evelyn looked at the clock on the medical monitor.
“He has less than ten minutes.”
I turned toward the scanners.
“Will placing our hands open the clinic?”
Vale nodded.
“It will unlock one corridor immediately.”
“Which one?”
“You select.”
Helen seized my arm.
“No.”
“Owens will die.”
“If you activate the system, Vale gains the biological authorization he needs.”
“For what?”
“The inheritance.”
Vale answered instead.
“To transfer control of Rosewood.”
“To me?”
“To the surviving Olivia.”
The little girl looked at the scanners.
“Only one survives?”
Vale said nothing.
That was enough.
I stepped away.
“We find another way.”
Marcus examined the damaged control panel Helen had shot.
“There may be a manual bypass behind the wall.”
Vale smiled.
“You designed hotels, Marcus. Do not flatter yourself.”
Marcus ignored him.
He pulled off a metal cover and exposed bundles of wires.
Helen joined him.
I looked toward Owens.
His eyes opened slightly.
“Don’t choose me,” he whispered.
“You’re not part of the selection.”
“I know.”
His voice was weak.
“Don’t trade a child for me.”
Evelyn squeezed his hand.
“You are not dying here.”
“People die.”
“Not tonight.”
He tried to smile.
The little girl approached him.
“What is your first name?”
“Caleb.”
“I’m Olivia.”
He looked at me, then back at her.
“I figured.”
“Which one do you think should stay?”
His expression changed.
“No one should ask you that.”
“Dr. Vale does.”
“Then Dr. Vale is wrong.”
She considered his answer.
“Daddy says grown-ups lie.”
“Sometimes.”
“Are you lying?”
“No.”
“How do I know?”
Owens struggled to lift one hand.
She placed hers in it.
“Because I don’t need anything from you.”
The child stared at him.
Perhaps no adult had ever said that to her before.
Vale watched without emotion.
Then the speaker beside him crackled.
A woman’s voice came through.
“Core instability detected.”
For the first time, Vale looked concerned.
Helen noticed.
“What happened?”
He did not answer.
The lights above the sleeping corridor changed from yellow to red.
Marcus pulled a wire free.
The central console went dark.
Every sealed barrier stopped.
A deep mechanical vibration moved beneath the floor.
The little girl covered her ears.
“The sleepers are waking.”
Vale turned toward the corridor.
“That is not possible.”
She looked at him.
“Subject Thirty-One can wake them.”
Helen grabbed Vale by his coat.
“What did you connect her to?”
“The core.”
“Disconnect her.”
“I cannot.”
“Why?”
A child’s voice emerged from every speaker.
Not the little girl beside us.
Older.
Calm.
Female.
“Because he gave me the doors.”
Vale stepped backward.
The voice continued.
“Hello, Mother.”
I looked toward the sealed sleeping wing.
“Who are you?”
The barriers began rising by themselves.
One by one.
Thomas’s corridor opened.
Daniel’s opened.
Chloe’s opened.
The operating room opened.
Finally, the dark corridor illuminated.
Thirty-one glass chambers stretched into the distance.
Thirty were occupied by sleeping children.
The final chamber stood empty.
At the far end of the wing, a young woman stepped from behind the glass.
She looked approximately seventeen.
Her hair was brown.
Her eyes were mine.
A black number 31 had been marked on her hospital gown.
Vale stared at her.
“You were not ready.”
She smiled.
“You said that eight years ago.”
I could not move.
She walked toward me, passing the sleeping chambers.
“Are you Subject Thirty-One?” I asked.
“Yes.”
My voice broke.
“Are you my daughter?”
She stopped several feet away.
“I was.”
“What does that mean?”
She looked toward the adult woman in the operating room.
The third Olivia was now standing behind Eleanor.
Both wore my face.
Subject Thirty-One pointed toward them.
“They used me to make her.”
Then she looked at the nine-year-old girl holding Marcus’s hand.
“And they used her to teach me childhood.”
Finally, she looked at me.
“And they used you to teach us how to love Chloe.”
My daughter ran from her corridor.
“Mommy!”
I caught her and held her against me.
Subject Thirty-One watched us with tears in her eyes.
Vale reached toward the console.
She lifted one hand.
Every door slammed shut around him alone.
A transparent wall separated him from the rest of us.
He struck the glass.
“What have you done?”
Subject Thirty-One faced him.
“What you trained me to do.”
The Rosewood symbols disappeared from every screen.
A new message appeared.
CONTROL TRANSFER COMPLETE.
Vale looked at me.
“She has no legal judgment. She has no stable identity.”
The young woman looked toward the thirty sleeping children.
“She gave us numbers.”
She pointed at Vale.
“He gave us cages.”
Then she turned to me.
“And you gave us a name.”
“I never knew you existed.”
“You mourned me.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“Yes.”
“I felt it.”
She stepped closer to Chloe.
My daughter stared at the number on her gown.
“Are you my sister?”
Subject Thirty-One smiled.
“I think so.”
Chloe reached for her hand.
The young woman looked frightened by the gesture.
Then she allowed Chloe to touch her.
Vale began laughing inside the glass enclosure.
Everyone turned toward him.
“You believe she freed you.”
Subject Thirty-One’s smile disappeared.
Vale pointed toward the central screen.
A timer had appeared.
11:59.
11:58.
11:57.
“What is that?” I asked.
Helen looked at the warning symbols.
“Core termination.”
Subject Thirty-One shook her head.
“I canceled it.”
Vale smiled.
“You canceled the local system.”
The map on the screen expanded.
Red lights appeared across the country.
Then across Europe.
Then across Asia.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Each one marked a Rosewood facility.
Vale pressed both hands against the glass.
“The inheritance was never a list of names.”
“What was it?” Marcus asked.
“A command network.”
The timer continued.
“Every active Rosewood site will purge its records and subjects unless the new controller confirms succession.”
Subject Thirty-One looked at the scanners.
DAUGHTER A.
DAUGHTER B.
Vale’s eyes moved from her to me.
“The system still requires a final choice.”
“No,” I said.
“There is always a choice.”
“What happens if we do nothing?”
He looked toward the world map.
“Every child disappears before midnight.”
The nine-year-old Olivia took my hand.
Subject Thirty-One stood on my other side.
Behind the operating-room glass, the adult Olivia smiled as though she had been waiting for this moment.
Three versions of my life.
May you like
Three daughters created from the same stolen history.
And only eleven minutes remained to decide which one Rosewood would recognize as human.
