CHAPTER 6: THE OTHER EMILY
For several seconds, I couldn't understand what my daughter was saying.
“There was another Emily.”
The words kept repeating inside my head.
Another Emily.
Same name.
Same age?
Same face?
Impossible.
I knelt beside her hospital bed.
“Emily, look at me.”
She did.
“Tell me exactly what you mean.”
She swallowed.
“There was another girl.”
“Who?”
“She looked like me.”
My heart stopped.
“How?”
“Same hair.”
She touched her own cheek.
“Same eyes.”
She pointed to her mouth.
“Same little mark here.”
I stared at the tiny birthmark beneath her lower lip.
A mark I had kissed hundreds of times.
“When did you see her?”
“Before Jason put me in the cage.”
“How long before?”
Emily thought.
“Three days.”
I looked at Reynolds.
He was staring at her with the same disbelief I felt.
“Where was she?”
Emily pointed toward the hospital window.
“At the house.”
“What room?”
“The upstairs bedroom.”
I remembered the curtains.
The locked doors.
The silence.
The house suddenly felt like a puzzle where every piece had been deliberately turned upside down.
“What happened to her?”
Emily looked down.
“I don't know.”
“Did Jason hurt her?”
“I didn't see him hurt her.”
“Then what happened?”
Emily whispered:
“She disappeared.”
I stood.
“Did anyone else see her?”
Emily shook her head.
“Mommy did.”
I looked toward Sarah's empty room.
“Your mother saw her?”
Emily nodded.
“She cried when she saw her.”
“Why?”
“Because she called her by my name.”
My skin prickled.
“What did she say?”
Emily closed her eyes.
“She said…”
Her voice became smaller.
“Not again.”
Reynolds immediately took out his notebook.
“What happened after that?”
Emily looked at him.
“Mommy took me downstairs.”
“Why?”
“She told me not to talk.”
“About the girl?”
Emily nodded.
“She said if Jason found out I had seen her, he would kill me.”
The room fell silent.
I walked toward the window.
Outside, dawn was beginning to brighten the sky.
But nothing about that morning felt like a new beginning.
It felt like the first page of something terrible.
I turned.
“Reynolds.”
“Yes?”
“I want to go back to the house.”
“No.”
“I need to see that bedroom.”
“It's a crime scene.”
“My daughter was kept there.”
“That is exactly why you shouldn't go.”
I stared at him.
“There are answers inside that house.”
“There are also potentially armed suspects.”
“Jason already escaped.”
“And whoever helped him may still be there.”
I looked at Emily.
“Then send officers.”
Reynolds hesitated.
Finally, he nodded.
“Fine.”
He turned to an officer.
“Secure the property.”
Then he looked at me.
“You stay with me.”
We returned to the house at 8:20 that morning.
The place looked different in daylight.
Less frightening.
Almost ordinary.
That made it worse.
The police tape fluttered around the entrance.
The front door stood open.
Inside, everything was exactly where we'd left it.
Except for one thing.
The family photographs were gone.
Every single one.
I stopped in the hallway.
“Where are the pictures?”
An officer shook his head.
“They weren't removed by police.”
“Then who took them?”
Nobody knew.
I walked upstairs.
The bedroom was at the end of the hall.
Emily's old room.
Pink curtains.
A bookshelf.
A stuffed bear.
A small wooden desk.
Everything looked normal.
I opened the closet.
Clothes.
Shoes.
School bags.
Then I noticed something.
Two sets.
Two identical pink dresses.
Two identical pairs of white sneakers.
Two identical backpacks.
I stared.
“Emily.”
She stood in the doorway with Reynolds.
Her face went pale.
“That isn't mine.”
I turned.
“What?”
She pointed.
“The blue backpack is mine.”
I looked at the other one.
Pink.
“Whose is this?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
An officer opened it.
Inside were schoolbooks.
Hair clips.
A water bottle.
And a photograph.
The photograph showed Emily standing beside Sarah.
But Emily wasn't wearing the clothes from the picture.
The girl in the photograph was wearing the pink dress from the closet.
I turned toward my daughter.
“Have you ever worn that dress?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Reynolds took the photograph.
“When was this taken?”
I looked at the background.
The Christmas tree.
The fireplace.
A calendar on the wall.
December 2024.
I felt dizzy.
“That's impossible.”
“What?”
“My daughter was with me that Christmas.”
I remembered it.
She had spent Christmas Eve at my apartment.
We had watched movies.
She had fallen asleep on my shoulder.
I had taken photographs.
So who was standing beside Sarah in this picture?
The girl looked exactly like Emily.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Same birthmark.
Same smile.
Except there was something wrong.
She wasn't smiling with her eyes.
She looked terrified.
Reynolds turned the photograph over.
Something was written on the back.
EMILY #2
I felt sick.
“What does that mean?”
An officer spoke.
“Maybe there was an Emily before your daughter.”
I looked at him.
“Then why does she look exactly like her?”
He didn't answer.
I walked to the desk.
There was a locked drawer.
I tried it.
Nothing.
Reynolds handed me a small evidence tool.
I forced the drawer open.
Inside was a stack of school records.
All with the name Emily Carter.
But the birth dates were different.
Emily Carter.
Born March 14, 2014.
Another.
Born March 14, 2015.
Another.
March 14, 2016.
My hands began shaking.
Three girls.
Same name.
Same birthday.
Different years.
Reynolds stared at the documents.
“This isn't possible.”
I pulled out another file.
Emily Carter.
March 14, 2017.
Another.
Seven records.
Seven Emily Carters.
All born on March 14.
I looked at my daughter.
“What day were you born?”
“March 14.”
“What year?”
She answered.
I looked at the records.
Her year was there.
But so was another.
The 2016 record had a photograph attached.
It was her.
Or someone who looked exactly like her.
I turned to Reynolds.
“What is happening?”
He looked terrified for the first time.
“We need to find the original birth records.”
“Why?”
“Because if these documents are real…”
He stopped.
“If what?”
He stared at my daughter.
“There may have been more than one child.”
A sound came from downstairs.
Everyone froze.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Someone was walking through the house.
Reynolds raised his weapon.
“Police!”
The footsteps stopped.
Then started again.
Coming toward us.
The officers moved into position.
I pulled Emily behind me.
The footsteps reached the top of the stairs.
A figure appeared.
I recognized him.
Daniel.
He looked older than the photograph.
His beard was gray around the edges.
There was a scar across his cheek.
But his eyes were the same.
My brother.
Alive.
He looked at me.
“Michael.”
I couldn't speak.
He looked at Emily.
Then his expression changed.
Not fear.
Pain.
“You found the records.”
I stepped forward.
“You're alive.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you let me think you were dead?”
“Because Dad wanted me dead.”
“Why?”
“Because I found out what he was doing.”
“What was he doing?”
Daniel looked at the documents.
“Replacing children.”
The room went silent.
“What?”
He stepped closer.
“Your father was part of a private adoption network.”
“That doesn't explain the records.”
“No.”
Daniel shook his head.
“It wasn't adoption.”
“Then what?”
He looked at Emily.
“Identity replacement.”
My stomach turned.
“What does that mean?”
Daniel pointed toward the photographs.
“Rich families wanted children who looked like their dead children.”
I stared at him.
“You're saying…”
“They found children who resembled them.”
“They changed their names.”
“They changed their records.”
“They changed their histories.”
“And when the original child disappeared…”
He paused.
“Someone else took their place.”
I looked at Emily.
“No.”
Daniel's eyes softened.
“Your daughter wasn't replaced.”
I breathed again.
“She was used as the template.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
“Emily was the perfect match.”
“Match for who?”
Daniel didn't answer.
He looked at the seven records.
“Do you remember your father's company?”
“Yes.”
“What did he call it?”
I thought.
“Mercer Holdings.”
Daniel nodded.
“That's what he told you.”
“What was it really?”
He looked toward the basement.
“Children were given new identities.”
My voice became quiet.
“And Jason?”
“He was one of the recruiters.”
I felt sick.
“My father?”
“The organizer.”
I stared at him.
“Then why was Emily targeted?”
Daniel looked at her.
“Because someone wanted to use her identity.”
“Who?”
He hesitated.
Then said:
“Your mother.”
I felt the room tilt.
“My mother is dead.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
“She can't be.”
“She was never dead.”
I looked at him.
“She ordered the replacement.”
My heart stopped.
“Replacement of who?”
Daniel looked at the photograph.
Then at Emily.
“Your mother had a daughter before you were born.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
Daniel's voice became barely audible.
“She died.”
I looked at Emily.
“Then who is this?”
He pointed at the photograph.
“That's her replacement.”
My blood ran cold.
I couldn't move.
Emily whispered:
“Daddy?”
I turned.
She was crying.
“I don't understand.”
Neither did I.
Daniel stepped closer.
“Michael, you need to listen to me.”
“What?”
“Your mother didn't want another daughter.”
“She wanted her daughter back.”
I stared at him.
“She found a child who looked exactly like her.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“She raised her as Emily.”
“No.”
“She changed the records.”
“No.”
“And when that child started remembering who she really was…”
Daniel looked toward the basement.
“Jason was ordered to make her disappear.”
I looked at my daughter.
Her face was white.
“Then who am I?”
Daniel didn't answer immediately.
He walked toward her.
He crouched down.
“You're Emily Carter.”
She stared at him.
“But you're also something else.”
“What?”
Daniel's eyes filled with tears.
“You're the only one who survived.”
I felt a chill.
“Survived what?”
Daniel stood.
“The original children.”
A sudden sound came from outside.
Tires screeched.
Then gunshots.
The officers rushed toward the windows.
Daniel grabbed Emily.
“DOWN!”
Glass exploded across the room.
I threw myself over my daughter.
Bullets struck the wall.
Reynolds shouted:
“EVERYONE DOWN!”
Daniel pulled Emily toward the closet.
“There's a passage.”
“What?”
He opened a hidden panel behind the wardrobe.
A narrow tunnel appeared.
I stared at him.
“How do you know this?”
“Because I built it.”
“You built it?”
Daniel looked at me.
“When I tried to escape.”
Another gunshot.
Reynolds fired toward the window.
“MOVE!”
We entered the passage.
Daniel shut the panel behind us.
The darkness swallowed everyone.
Emily clung to my hand.
“Daddy.”
“I'm here.”
She whispered:
“Who is shooting at us?”
Before I could answer, Daniel spoke from ahead.
“Your mother.”
I stopped.
“What?”
Daniel turned.
His face was grim.
“She knows we found the truth.”
A distant explosion shook the tunnel.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Then a voice echoed through the passage.
A woman's voice.
Calm.
Familiar.
My mother's voice.
“Michael.”
I froze.
“Mom?”
Her voice came again.
“Bring Emily to me.”
I stared into the darkness.
Then she said the sentence that made my entire body go cold.
“Because she's not the child you think she is.”
May you like
And somewhere behind us, a second voice whispered:
“Neither are you.”
