Chapter 12 - I thought the revelation would shock me.It didn't.
At least not immediately.
It simply sat there.
Impossible.
Ugly.
Heavy.
Like a stone dropped into deep water.
“My father wasn't my father?”
Emily shook her head.
“Your mother told me he wasn't.”
“Then who was?”
“I don't know.”
“Why would she tell you?”
“Because she believed it explained Project Noah.”
“How?”
Emily hesitated.
“She said your family had been looking for you before you were born.”
“What does that mean?”
“She said you were selected.”
I laughed.
“Selected for what?”
Emily looked toward Noah.
“To carry a gene they couldn't create artificially.”
I stared at my son.
The truth became worse with every answer.
Noah wasn't an accident.
Neither was I.
My life had been designed.
I had simply never known.
We returned to Boston with Noah.
The hospital had been secured by federal agents.
Victor Hale was gone.
Richard Vale was missing.
The Briarwood facility was being searched.
But I didn't trust anyone.
Not yet.
Emily stayed beside Noah.
She never left his room.
Every time a nurse approached with warming equipment, she watched them.
Every medication.
Every tube.
Every monitor.
She checked everything.
Then, three days later, Noah improved enough to leave intensive care.
The doctors called it extraordinary.
I called it terrifying.
Because his blood tests revealed something unexpected.
A sequence no one could identify.
I sent samples to an independent laboratory.
The results arrived that night.
Genetic anomaly consistent with engineered thermal-response modulation.
I read the report twice.
Then saw another line.
Maternal contribution: 49%.
That was expected.
The next line wasn't.
Paternal contribution: 51%.
But underneath was another note.
Paternal sequence does not match Ethan Carter's submitted DNA profile.
I stared.
My blood didn't match my son's.
Impossible.
Unless Emily was right.
I ordered a private DNA test.
Mine.
My father’s preserved sample.
My mother's sample.
Noah's.
The results came back seventy-two hours later.
My father was not my biological father.
My mother was.
Noah was genetically related to me.
But only through a segment I didn't understand.
A segment shared with dozens of trial subjects.
I called the laboratory director.
“What does this mean?”
He sounded frightened.
“Mr. Carter, I don't know who created this sequence.”
“Can you trace it?”
“Maybe.”
“How?”
“There are references in historical biomedical databases.”
“Which ones?”
He paused.
“U.S. military research.”
My blood ran cold.
“What program?”
The line went silent.
“Doctor?”
“I can't discuss it over the phone.”
Then he whispered:
“Someone's listening.”
The call ended.
Ten minutes later, the laboratory building was evacuated.
A fire started in the basement.
My sample was gone.
Someone was cleaning up.
That night, Emily found me in the library.
“You've been awake for two days.”
“So have you.”
She smiled faintly.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“You saved Noah.”
She looked down.
“Your wife did.”
“She saved him through you.”
Emily shook her head.
“I failed Daniel.”
“That's not your fault.”
“It is.”
“How?”
“I was the one who led him into the Blue Room.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Daniel found proof that the project continued after Briarwood officially closed.”
“He wanted to expose them.”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
“I thought they were bluffing.”
“What happened?”
“They caught us.”
She started crying.
“I escaped.”
“Daniel didn't.”
I sat beside her.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“Of what you'd become if you knew.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your mother told me something.”
“What?”
“She said one day you'd inherit everything.”
“My company?”
“Not your company.”
She whispered:
“The project.”
Before I could ask more, the library doors slammed shut.
The lights went off.
Noah's baby monitor crackled from upstairs.
Then came a sound.
A lullaby.
My wife used to sing it.
I ran upstairs.
Noah's crib was empty.
The window was open.
Emily screamed:
“No!”
I reached the window.
Rain poured inside.
A small white blanket lay on the floor.
May you like
And written across it in black marker were four words:
PHASE FOUR HAS STARTED.
