CHAPTER 14: THE GIRL BENEATH THE HOUSE
The laughter came again.
A child's laughter.
Soft.
Playful.
Completely wrong for a place buried beneath our house.
Isabella squeezed my hand.
“Dad…”
“I hear her.”
“She sounds like me.”
I stared into the darkness below the staircase.
The steel door was fully open now.
A narrow set of stairs descended into the earth.
At the bottom, a faint white light flickered.
My father stood behind us.
“Don't go down there.”
I turned.
“You said you killed her.”
He nodded.
“Then why is she laughing?”
He didn't answer.
I stepped toward him.
“Who is down there?”
He looked at Isabella.
“The first version of your daughter.”
I felt sick.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It will.”
“How?”
“Because she isn't dead.”
I froze.
“You told me she died.”
“I believed she did.”
“You buried her.”
“No.”
“You showed me a grave.”
“It was empty.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“They wanted me to believe she was dead.”
“Who?”
“The old man.”
I looked toward the dark staircase.
“Then what happened?”
My father took a shaky breath.
“When the first Isabella was born, the system couldn't stabilize her memory.”
“Why?”
“Because she carried too much.”
“Too much what?”
“Your memories.”
I looked at my daughter.
“So she was the first memory carrier.”
“Yes.”
“And the second Isabella?”
“She was created later.”
“Why?”
“Because the first one was dying.”
My chest tightened.
“You replaced my daughter.”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“You made another child.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
My father looked at Isabella.
“They split her.”
Silence.
I couldn't understand.
“What?”
“The first Isabella's biological pattern was copied.”
“Copied?”
“Her cells.”
“Her memory.”
“Her genetic signature.”
“Everything.”
He swallowed.
“They created a second body.”
I stared at him.
“That's impossible.”
“It shouldn't have worked.”
“But it did.”
“Yes.”
“And the first?”
He pointed toward the basement.
“Her consciousness survived.”
I felt a chill.
“In a computer?”
“No.”
“In the system.”
My stomach turned.
“She became the system.”
Isabella suddenly stepped toward the stairs.
“I want to see her.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“Dad.”
“No.”
“She needs me.”
I stared.
“How do you know?”
“She has been waiting.”
I couldn't answer.
Elena stepped beside me.
“She may be dangerous.”
Isabella shook her head.
“She isn't.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she's scared.”
My father whispered:
“She can hear us.”
The laughter stopped.
Then a child's voice echoed from below.
“Dad?”
I froze.
It was my daughter's voice.
Exactly.
“Dad, come down.”
Isabella began crying.
“That sounds like me.”
I held her tighter.
The voice came again.
“Please.”
My father stepped backward.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“That's not her.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she never called me Dad.”
I felt cold.
“Then who is it?”
The voice answered from below.
“Someone who wants Isabella to come home.”
The lights beneath the staircase suddenly turned red.
A warning alarm began.
My father shouted:
“RUN!”
The house shook.
The walls trembled.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Adrian grabbed Beatriz.
Elena grabbed Isabella.
I refused to move.
“What is happening?”
“The vault is opening.”
“So?”
“If the vault fully opens, the memory archive will connect to Isabella.”
“That's what she wants.”
“No.”
My father looked terrified.
“Something else is connected.”
“What?”
He whispered:
“The original subject.”
I stared at him.
“Subject Zero?”
He nodded.
“Your mother.”
Suddenly every light in the house turned on.
The walls began displaying images.
My childhood.
My mother's face.
Daniel as a boy.
My father.
Beatriz.
Elena.
Isabella.
Hundreds of memories.
Some I recognized.
Some I didn't.
Then one appeared that made me stop.
A hospital room.
A newborn baby.
My mother was standing beside the bed.
She was crying.
But she wasn't holding Isabella.
She was holding another baby.
A boy.
I stared.
“Who is that?”
My father didn't answer.
Daniel's voice came from behind us.
“Me.”
I turned.
Daniel was standing at the doorway.
He was still bleeding.
But he was alive.
“You said you couldn't walk.”
“I lied.”
He entered the room.
“I needed them to believe I was weak.”
I stared at him.
“You knew about this.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Since before you came home.”
“You knew the first Isabella was alive?”
“Yes.”
“You knew my mother was alive?”
“Yes.”
I felt betrayed.
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because she made me promise.”
“Who?”
He pointed toward the basement.
“Her.”
I looked at Isabella.
She was staring at the stairs.
“Who?”
Daniel whispered:
“The first Isabella.”
My daughter stepped forward.
“Why would she make you hide everything?”
Daniel looked at her.
“Because she knows what happens when the two of you meet.”
“What happens?”
He swallowed.
“They merge.”
Silence.
“What?”
“The first Isabella is incomplete.”
“And the second?”
“Incomplete too.”
“So together…”
“They become one.”
I stared at my daughter.
“What would that do?”
Daniel looked toward the vault.
“Complete the system.”
My father shouted:
“No!”
Daniel turned.
“You knew.”
“I tried to stop it.”
“You failed.”
My father raised his weapon.
Daniel didn't move.
“You'll kill me again?”
My father froze.
Daniel smiled sadly.
“You've already done it once.”
I stepped between them.
“Enough.”
The house shook again.
The basement door opened wider.
A white light flooded the room.
Then a little girl stepped onto the stairs.
She looked eight years old.
Same height.
Same hair.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Isabella stared at her.
The other girl stared back.
Nobody moved.
Then she smiled.
“Hi.”
Isabella whispered:
“Hi.”
The other girl looked at me.
“Dad.”
I couldn't breathe.
She smiled.
“I missed you.”
I shook my head.
“I don't know you.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Yes, you do.”
She touched her chest.
“You forgot.”
I looked at Isabella.
Then at the girl.
The resemblance was impossible.
But there was one difference.
A thin white scar ran across the other girl's neck.
I stepped closer.
“What's your name?”
She smiled.
“You gave me one.”
“What?”
“Isabella.”
My daughter began crying.
The other girl looked at her.
“That's my name too.”
I crouched.
“Who are you?”
She answered:
“I'm the part of her that you left behind.”
The room went silent.
Then she pointed at my father.
“He killed me.”
My father closed his eyes.
“I didn't.”
“You did.”
“I tried to save you.”
“You chose the other me.”
My father began crying.
“I thought you were dead.”
The girl smiled.
“You always say that.”
She turned toward Isabella.
“Do you remember?”
Isabella shook her head.
“No.”
“You will.”
The two girls stepped closer.
I immediately moved between them.
“Stay back.”
The first Isabella looked at me.
“You can't stop this.”
“I'm her father.”
“So am I.”
My blood froze.
“What?”
She pointed at herself.
“You were my father first.”
I couldn't speak.
She looked at Isabella.
“And you were supposed to replace me.”
Isabella shook her head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You took my life.”
“I didn't.”
“You took my memories.”
“I didn't.”
“You took my mother.”
“I didn't.”
The two girls began crying.
Then something impossible happened.
They both spoke at exactly the same time.
“I'm the real Isabella.”
The house went completely silent.
I looked at Daniel.
He whispered:
“This is the choice.”
“What choice?”
“Only one of them can survive.”
My heart stopped.
“No.”
My father stepped forward.
“That's what the system wants.”
I turned toward him.
“Then destroy it.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because the system needs a sacrifice.”
I looked at the two girls.
“No.”
The old voice came through the speakers.
My grandfather.
“Exactly.”
His laughter echoed through the house.
“You finally understand.”
I looked up.
“Where are you?”
“Everywhere.”
The lights went black.
Then the basement doors slammed shut.
The first Isabella disappeared.
My daughter screamed.
“ISABELLA!”
I turned.
She was gone too.
The entire house became dark.
Then one final light appeared.
A screen.
On it was my grandfather.
He looked directly at me.
“You have one hour.”
“For what?”
“To choose which daughter lives.”
I clenched my fists.
“You're not making me choose.”
He smiled.
“You already did.”
The screen showed an old photograph.
Me.
Holding one baby.
Behind me stood the other.
Then another image appeared.
My mother.
Holding a gun.
Pointing it at me.
And beneath the photograph appeared a sentence:
YOUR MOTHER CHOSE FIRST.
I stared at the screen.
“What did she choose?”
My grandfather smiled.
“To kill you.”
The screen went black.
And somewhere beneath the house, my daughter's voice screamed:
“DAD!”
Then another voice answered.
“No.”
“Don't come down.”
May you like
I froze.
Because the second voice was mine.
