Chapter 6 - I couldn't breathe.
Thomas stood in the headlights.
My father.
Older.
But unmistakable.
The same narrow face.
The same silver hair.
The same posture.
The same watch he had worn at my mother's funeral.
I stumbled out of the SUV.
“Dad?”
He smiled.
“Hello, Daniel.”
My mother shouted:
“Don't go near him!”
Thomas laughed.
“Still protecting him after all these years?”
“You're supposed to be dead.”
“So is your wife.”
My mother stepped out of the vehicle.
The two of them stared at each other.
Twelve years of hatred seemed to pass between them in a single second.
“You forged your own death,” my mother whispered.
Thomas shrugged.
“I had to disappear.”
“After you tried to kill me.”
“You were going to destroy everything.”
“You destroyed our son.”
He looked at me.
“I made him strong.”
“You made him afraid.”
Thomas's eyes moved to Emma.
“And now you brought me exactly what I needed.”
I moved in front of her.
“You're not touching my daughter.”
Thomas smiled.
“She's not the target.”
I froze.
“Then what do you want?”
“The key.”
I looked at it.
Thomas's expression changed.
“You have no idea what that opens.”
My mother grabbed my wrist.
“Don't give it to him.”
Thomas raised a hand.
The men behind him aimed their weapons.
Marcus stepped forward.
“Thomas.”
My father looked at him.
“You've disappointed me.”
Marcus swallowed.
“I thought you were dead.”
“That was the idea.”
Marcus lowered his eyes.
Thomas looked at my mother.
“Give me the key.”
“No.”
“Margaret.”
“No.”
He sighed.
“Then we'll do this the hard way.”
One of the men raised his weapon.
I pulled Emma behind the SUV.
My mother fired first.
The night exploded into chaos.
We ran.
Bullets struck the road.
Marcus pushed me toward the trees.
“This way!”
We disappeared into the forest.
Branches tore at my face.
Emma clung to my hand.
My mother ran behind us.
We reached an abandoned cabin.
Inside, Marcus locked the door.
I turned on him.
“You knew he was alive.”
“I suspected.”
“You've worked for him.”
“Not willingly.”
“Then explain.”
Marcus leaned against the wall.
“Thomas built a network around himself.”
“What kind?”
“Financial. Political. Medical.”
“Why?”
“Because the genetic research wasn't about curing disease.”
“What was it about?”
Marcus looked at Emma.
“It was about selection.”
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
“He wanted to identify children who inherited specific traits.”
“And?”
“He intended to control who received medical access.”
My mother shook her head.
“He wanted to own the future.”
I looked at Emma.
“Why her?”
“Because she inherited the full sequence.”
I stepped closer.
“What sequence?”
“Your mother carries half.”
“You carry the other half.”
I stared at my mother.
“And Emma has both.”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
That night, my world changed.
My father's obsession wasn't money.
It was power.
And my daughter was the thing he had been waiting for.
Marcus handed me a folder.
“There's another problem.”
I opened it.
It was a birth record.
Emma Reed.
Then another.
Same name.
Same date.
Different hospital.
I looked at Marcus.
“What is this?”
He said nothing.
My stomach turned.
I opened the second file.
The mother was not Margaret.
It listed another woman.
Rachel Reed.
“Who is Rachel?”
My mother stepped forward.
“Thomas's sister.”
I stared at her.
“You said you had a sister.”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“Because she helped him.”
She pointed to the photograph of the woman who looked like her.
“That woman isn't my sister.”
“Then who is she?”
“My sister's daughter.”
I looked at the photograph again.
“She looks exactly like you.”
“She was created to.”
I felt sick.
“Created?”
My mother hesitated.
“Thomas had years to perfect the resemblance.”
My blood ran cold.
“There was more than one woman pretending to be you?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
My mother looked away.
“Five.”
Silence.
“Five?”
She nodded.
“They trained them to look, speak, and behave like me.”
“Why?”
“So that if anyone ever found one of them, they would believe they had found Margaret Reed.”
A horrible thought entered my mind.
“The funeral.”
My mother nodded.
“That was one of them.”
I stared at her.
“So the woman in the coffin…”
“She wasn't me.”
“Who was she?”
My mother's expression broke.
“My sister.”
She whispered:
“Thomas killed her because she refused to pretend to be me one more time.”
Emma began crying.
I held her.
Outside, branches snapped.
Someone was approaching the cabin.
My mother picked up her gun.
Marcus whispered:
“We were followed.”
A shadow stopped outside the window.
Then someone knocked.
Three times.
My father had found us.
And from outside came his voice.
“Daniel.”
May you like
He paused.
“Ask your mother who your real father is.”
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