CHAPTER 11 THE GIRL WHO CALLED HERSELF NOAH'S MOTHER
“She says she's my mother.”
Noah's words echoed through the phone.
I couldn't move.
Lena stared at me.
“What did he say?”
I held up a hand.
“Quiet.”
I pressed the phone closer.
“Noah, listen to me. Where are you?”
“I don't know.”
“Look around.”
“I can't see much.”
“Are you inside a building?”
“Yes.”
“Is Victor there?”
“Yes.”
“Is the girl there?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“What's her name?”
Noah whispered:
“She says her name is Mara.”
My blood went cold.
Mara.
Alexander's supposed sister.
The woman Victor had claimed was part of Project Heir.
The woman who had appeared in the photograph beside Noah.
The woman who had just told him she was his mother.
I looked at Alexander.
He had heard the name.
His expression changed.
“No.”
“What?”
He took the phone from my hand.
“Mara?”
Noah answered:
“Yes.”
Alexander closed his eyes.
“Get away from her.”
Noah began crying.
“She says you're lying.”
“I am not.”
“She says you aren't my uncle.”
Alexander's face went pale.
“Listen to me, Noah. Do not trust anyone.”
A voice suddenly came through the phone.
A woman's voice.
Calm.
Young.
“Hello, Alexander.”
He froze.
“Mara.”
She laughed softly.
“You finally remember me.”
“Where is Noah?”
“Safe.”
“Give him to me.”
“No.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want Adrian.”
I stepped closer.
“I'm here.”
The line went silent.
Then Mara spoke.
“Adrian.”
“Yes.”
“You've been searching for me.”
“I've been searching for my daughter.”
“You're searching for the wrong person.”
“Where is my daughter?”
Mara laughed.
“You're looking at her.”
I stared at the phone.
“You're saying you're my daughter?”
“No.”
“Then who are you?”
She paused.
“The person who raised Noah.”
My heart pounded.
“You raised my son?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Before Lena took him.”
Lena suddenly stepped backward.
“No.”
Mara continued.
“She knows.”
I looked at Lena.
“What is she talking about?”
Lena was crying.
“I don't know.”
Mara laughed.
“You always say that.”
I shouted into the phone.
“Tell me the truth!”
Silence.
Then Mara said:
“Ask Lena about the summer Noah was four.”
Lena's face went white.
I turned toward her.
“What happened?”
She shook her head.
“I don't remember.”
“You do.”
“No.”
Mara's voice came through the phone.
“She gave him to us.”
Lena collapsed onto the floor.
I stared at her.
“What?”
“She signed the transfer.”
“No.”
Mara continued.
“She said she couldn't protect him.”
I looked at Lena.
“Did you give Noah away?”
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“I would never.”
Mara laughed.
“You did.”
“No!”
I grabbed Lena's shoulders.
“Tell me!”
“I don't remember!”
She was sobbing.
“I swear I don't remember!”
My mother suddenly stepped forward.
“I do.”
Everyone turned.
My mother looked at Lena.
“You were drugged.”
“By Victor?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After Lily was born.”
Lena shook her head.
“What happened?”
My mother looked at me.
“They made her believe Noah had died.”
My blood froze.
“What?”
“They staged an accident.”
Lena covered her mouth.
“They told you Noah was dead.”
“No.”
“You were taken to a private facility.”
“For how long?”
“Three weeks.”
Lena stared at her.
“I don't remember.”
“Exactly.”
Mara spoke through the phone.
“And while you were gone, Noah was transferred.”
I felt dizzy.
“To where?”
“To me.”
“Why?”
“Because Victor wanted to study him.”
“Study him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he believed Noah carried the same genetic marker as Lily.”
“But he doesn't.”
“No.”
Mara's voice softened.
“That's why he was useful.”
I didn't understand.
“Useful for what?”
She didn't answer.
Instead, Noah came back on the line.
“Dad.”
“I'm here.”
“She's crying.”
“Who?”
“Mara.”
My chest tightened.
“Why?”
“She says she didn't want to hurt anyone.”
I heard Mara in the background.
“Because I was forced to.”
I looked at Alexander.
He whispered:
“She was a child.”
“What?”
“Mara was part of Project Heir.”
“How old is she?”
“Seventeen.”
I froze.
Seventeen.
The girl in the photograph looked older.
But she wasn't.
She was seventeen.
A child raised inside Victor's network.
A weapon disguised as a daughter.
I looked toward Lena.
“She told Noah she's his mother.”
Lena shook her head.
“She isn't.”
Mara heard her.
“I was the only mother he knew.”
Lena began crying.
“Noah…”
Mara said:
“You abandoned him.”
“I was tricked.”
“You still left him.”
“I didn't know!”
“Then why did you never look for him?”
Lena had no answer.
I took the phone.
“Mara.”
Silence.
“You want me?”
“Yes.”
“Then let Noah go.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he knows where Lily is.”
I froze.
“What?”
Mara laughed softly.
“He knows.”
I looked at Lily.
She was sitting beside my mother.
“What does Noah know?”
“Where your daughter was hidden.”
I felt my blood run cold.
“Noah is eight.”
“He remembers.”
“What does he remember?”
“The facility.”
I stared at my son through the phone.
Noah had been four.
He couldn't possibly remember.
Unless…
His memories had been suppressed.
I looked at my father.
“Can that happen?”
He nodded slowly.
“Trauma can create fragmented memories.”
“Then we need him back.”
Mara interrupted.
“Come alone.”
“No.”
“Then Noah dies.”
My fists tightened.
“Where?”
“Blackwater.”
My father immediately shook his head.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“It's a trap.”
Mara laughed.
“Of course it is.”
“Then why go?”
“Because your daughter is there.”
My blood stopped.
“Lily?”
“No.”
Mara's voice became quiet.
“Your first daughter.”
Lena covered her mouth.
I whispered:
“She's alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Blackwater.”
I looked at my father.
He was staring at the floor.
“You knew.”
He didn't deny it.
“You knew she was there.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Victor was using her.”
“For what?”
My father finally looked at me.
“To control you.”
“How?”
“She was the one person you would always choose.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“Victor believed if he threatened her, you'd do anything.”
I shook my head.
“He was right.”
My mother suddenly grabbed my arm.
“Adrian.”
I turned.
“Don't go.”
“I have to.”
“You'll walk into his trap.”
“My son is there.”
“And your daughter.”
“I know.”
My father stepped forward.
“Then I'm coming.”
“No.”
“I'm your father.”
“You've lied to me enough.”
He stopped.
I looked at Alexander.
“You stay here.”
He shook his head.
“I'm coming.”
“No.”
“I know Blackwater.”
“You were there?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Alexander looked at my father.
“He was the first child they tested.”
I stared at him.
“What did they do?”
Alexander's face went blank.
“I don't remember everything.”
“Why?”
“They removed parts of my memory.”
I looked at Mara's photograph.
Then Noah.
Then Lily.
The pieces were forming a picture I didn't want to see.
Project Heir.
The children.
The hidden facility.
The genetic marker.
The fake deaths.
The altered memories.
The trust.
Victor wasn't merely trying to control my family.
He had been building a replacement family.
Children designed to fit a system created decades ago.
I looked at Lena.
“What happened to our first daughter?”
She whispered:
“Her name was Emma.”
The name hit me unexpectedly.
Emma.
I had never heard it before.
Yet something inside me reacted.
A strange memory flashed.
A hospital room.
A tiny hand.
A woman crying.
My own voice saying:
“Emma.”
I grabbed the edge of the table.
My head hurt.
Lena rushed toward me.
“Adrian?”
“I remember.”
“What?”
“Her.”
I closed my eyes.
“I remember holding her.”
Lena began crying.
“What else?”
I saw another image.
A man in a black suit.
A silver bracelet.
A small girl.
Then a sentence.
“Don't let her see the father.”
I opened my eyes.
“Victor was there.”
My father nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He wanted to know if you would protect her.”
“And?”
My father looked at me.
“You did.”
“What happened?”
“They took her.”
I looked at the phone.
“Mara.”
No response.
“Mara, listen.”
Silence.
“I'll come.”
“No.”
“I'll come alone.”
“No.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Bring Lily.”
My heart stopped.
“No.”
“She is the key.”
“You won't touch her.”
“You don't understand.”
“I understand perfectly.”
Mara's voice became colder.
“If Lily doesn't come, Noah doesn't leave.”
I looked at my daughter.
She was staring at me.
She had heard everything.
Then she stood.
“I'll go.”
“No.”
“Daddy…”
“No.”
“I want to save Noah.”
“You're eight.”
“I know.”
“You don't understand what's happening.”
“I understand.”
She pointed toward her bracelet.
“They want this.”
My father looked at her.
“Lily…”
She continued:
“But I know something they don't.”
Everyone stared at her.
“What?”
Lily touched the bracelet.
“Mom told me never to take it off.”
I nodded.
“Why?”
She looked at Lena.
Then at me.
“Because there's a picture inside.”
My heart stopped.
“What picture?”
Lily slowly removed the bracelet.
A tiny compartment opened.
Inside was a photograph no larger than a fingernail.
She handed it to me.
I stared at it.
The photograph showed two babies.
Noah.
And Emma.
But that wasn't what made my blood freeze.
On the back was a date.
And beneath it, three words.
THEY WERE SWITCHED.
I looked at Lily.
“Where did you get this?”
She pointed toward Lena.
“Mommy gave it to me.”
Lena stared at the photograph.
“I've never seen that.”
Lily shook her head.
“You did.”
“No.”
“When I was four.”
Lena's face changed.
She suddenly remembered.
A flash of memory crossed her face.
The hospital.
A nurse.
Two bassinets.
Two babies.
One bracelet.
And a man standing in the doorway.
Victor.
Lena gasped.
“I remember.”
Everyone turned.
She whispered:
“There were two babies.”
I stepped closer.
“What two babies?”
Lena stared at the photograph.
“Noah…”
Her voice broke.
“…wasn't born alone.”
The warehouse fell silent.
Then my father's phone rang.
He answered.
His face went pale.
He handed me the phone.
Victor was on the line.
“Adrian.”
“What?”
“You've just discovered the last secret.”
I said nothing.
Victor continued:
“Your son was never the only child born that night.”
I looked at the photograph.
Two babies.
Noah.
Emma.
Victor laughed softly.
“And one of them has been living in your house for eight years.”
I looked at Lily.
My daughter stared back at me.
Victor's voice became a whisper.
“Ask your wife which child she brought home from the hospital.”
The call ended.
Lena began screaming.
“No…”
I looked at her.
“Lena.”
She backed away.
“No.”
“Tell me.”
“I can't.”
“Tell me!”
She covered her face.
“I don't know which baby was mine.”
Then the warehouse lights suddenly went out.
A single emergency light came on.
And from somewhere in the darkness…
a little girl's voice whispered:
“Daddy?”
I froze.
That voice wasn't Lily.
It wasn't Noah.
It wasn't Emma.
I turned toward the sound.
A small figure stood at the end of the corridor.
And she was holding a photograph of me.
May you like
“Daddy,” she whispered again.
“I've been waiting for you.”
