Chapter 13: Elise
I couldn't move.
The name echoed inside my head.
Elise.
Not Rachel.
Not my sister.
A stranger.
A woman who had lived beside me for years.
A woman who had held Emma in her arms.
A woman who had stood in my kitchen on my daughter's birthday.
A woman who had watched Emma drink the lemonade.
“Elise,” I whispered.
Rebecca nodded.
“She has been pretending to be Rachel for twenty-six years.”
My mother began crying.
I turned toward her.
“You knew?”
She couldn't meet my eyes.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
The answer destroyed something inside me.
“How?”
My mother whispered:
“Your real sister died when she was four.”
“Rachel?”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Then who was buried?”
“No one.”
My stomach turned.
“You let me believe I had a sister.”
“We were trying to protect you.”
“Stop.”
My voice echoed through the church.
“Stop saying that!”
My mother flinched.
“You all lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“For my entire life.”
“Yes.”
“And Elise?”
My mother nodded.
“She was placed with us.”
“Why?”
“Because the organization needed someone who could watch you.”
I stared at her.
“So Rachel was never my sister.”
“No.”
“She was my surveillance.”
“Yes.”
My hands began trembling.
“How could she do this for twenty-six years?”
Rebecca answered.
“Because she was trained from childhood.”
“To do what?”
“To become whoever they needed.”
I thought about all the little things.
Rachel knowing my childhood stories.
Rachel knowing my favorite foods.
Rachel knowing the name of my first boyfriend.
Rachel remembering my father's funeral.
Rachel crying when my mother supposedly died.
How could an impostor know all of that?
Then I remembered something.
There had always been tiny inconsistencies.
She hated the perfume my real sister supposedly loved.
She couldn't remember the scar on our childhood bedroom door.
She didn't know the lullaby our mother used to sing.
I had dismissed those things.
Now they looked like fingerprints.
Proof.
“Where is Elise?”
Rebecca looked toward the church doors.
“She left before I arrived.”
“With Emma?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To warn you.”
“About what?”
Rebecca stepped closer.
“Elise wasn't acting alone.”
“Who is helping her?”
Rebecca looked at my mother.
“Ask her.”
My mother closed her eyes.
“I don't know.”
Rebecca laughed.
“You still protect him.”
“Who?”
“My father.”
I looked at my mother.
“Dad?”
She nodded.
“He's not the man you think he is.”
I felt another piece of reality crack.
“What did he do?”
“He created the program.”
“What program?”
“The one that changed us.”
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
My mother whispered:
“He experimented on us.”
Silence.
“When?”
“Before you were born.”
“With what?”
“Blood.”
My stomach turned.
“He studied our genetics.”
“Why?”
“To identify people who carried the marker.”
“The marker in my blood.”
“Yes.”
“And Emma inherited it.”
“Yes.”
“Why is that important?”
My mother looked at me.
“Because the marker is proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“The organization.”
She took a breath.
“The marker exists only in the descendants of people who were exposed to the program.”
I frowned.
“So Emma is evidence.”
“Yes.”
“Evidence that could destroy them.”
“Yes.”
Rebecca nodded.
“That is why they want her alive.”
My blood ran cold.
“So the sedative wasn't supposed to kill her.”
“No.”
“It was supposed to make her unconscious.”
“Yes.”
“So they could take her blood.”
“Yes.”
I remembered the puncture marks.
Two tiny holes.
My daughter had been turned into evidence.
A sound came from the church basement.
My mother froze.
Rebecca raised her head.
“What?”
“Someone's here.”
Detective Harris drew his weapon.
“Everyone stay behind me.”
Footsteps echoed below.
Slow.
Heavy.
Then a man's voice.
“Sarah?”
I knew it.
Mark.
I ran toward the stairs.
“Mark?”
My mother grabbed me.
“Wait.”
But it was too late.
A man emerged.
He was wearing Mark's jacket.
Same height.
Same face.
Same voice.
“Sarah.”
I stopped.
Something was wrong.
Mark had been shot in the shoulder.
This man wasn't injured.
I looked at his hand.
No wedding ring.
My stomach dropped.
“You're not Mark.”
The man's smile disappeared.
Rebecca whispered:
“Good.”
The man reached into his pocket.
Harris raised his weapon.
“Don't move.”
The man slowly lifted his hands.
“I'm not here to hurt her.”
“Then who are you?”
He looked at me.
“My name is Daniel.”
“Who are you?”
“Someone who worked with your father.”
“Where is Mark?”
Daniel smiled.
“Alive.”
“Where?”
“Not far.”
My heart pounded.
“Take me to him.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Can't.”
“Why?”
“Because he's with Emma.”
My blood froze.
“What?”
Daniel looked at Rebecca.
“She told me you were ready.”
“Ready for what?”
Rebecca stepped forward.
“To meet the real Rachel.”
I stared at her.
“I thought Rachel was dead.”
“She is.”
“Then what do you mean?”
Rebecca pointed toward the church basement.
“She's there.”
We descended.
A single room lay beneath the church.
A woman was sitting against the wall.
Her hands were tied.
Her face was bruised.
I stopped.
She looked up.
She had my eyes.
My mother's eyes.
And the same crooked smile I remembered from childhood photographs.
“Sarah?”
My heart broke.
“Rachel?”
She nodded.
Tears filled her eyes.
“I've been waiting for you.”
I fell to my knees.
“You're alive.”
“Yes.”
I touched her face.
She was real.
Warm.
Breathing.
My sister.
My real sister.
“What happened?”
“Elise replaced me.”
“When?”
“When I was twelve.”
“Why?”
“Because I escaped.”
“From where?”
“The organization.”
She looked toward my mother.
“Mom helped me.”
My mother cried.
“I thought you died.”
“They wanted you to think that.”
“Why?”
“Because Elise needed my identity.”
I looked at her.
“How did she know everything about us?”
Rachel smiled sadly.
“She had my memories.”
“What?”
“She was trained using recordings.”
My stomach turned.
“They copied my voice.”
“My mannerisms.”
“My childhood.”
“Everything.”
I whispered:
“So when I thought I was talking to my sister…”
“You were.”
“But not the person.”
“Exactly.”
I untied her.
Then she grabbed my wrist.
“Sarah.”
“What?”
“You need to listen.”
“What?”
“Emma wasn't taken by Elise.”
I froze.
“What?”
“She gave Emma to someone.”
“Who?”
Rachel looked terrified.
“Your husband.”
I stared.
“Mark?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To hide her.”
“From Elise?”
“No.”
“Then from who?”
Rachel whispered:
“Your father.”
I couldn't breathe.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“Why would he want Emma?”
“Because he knows what her blood can unlock.”
“What?”
Rachel looked at me.
“The Black Ledger isn't a list.”
“Then what is it?”
“A database.”
“Of what?”
“Every person connected to the organization.”
“That's what Dad said.”
Rachel shook her head.
“That's only half of it.”
“What is the other half?”
She leaned closer.
“The database contains genetic records.”
My stomach dropped.
“Of everyone?”
“Everyone who was tested.”
“And Emma?”
Rachel nodded.
“Emma's blood can open it.”
Silence.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Emma was sitting beside Mark.
Alive.
Safe.
But behind them stood my father.
The message underneath read:
YOU HAVE ONE HOUR.
Then another:
BRING REBECCA.
And finally:
OR EMMA LEARNS WHAT HER FATHER REALLY DID.
I stared at the photograph.
“Her father?”
Mark.
Or my father?
May you like
Then a fourth message arrived.
ASK MARK WHY EMMA WAS BORN.
