CHAPTER 6: THE WOMAN BESIDE THE GRAVE
I stared at the photograph until the screen blurred.
My wife's grave.
A woman standing beside it.
The same dark coat she used to wear whenever it rained.
The same posture.
The same slight tilt of her head.
It couldn't be her.
It couldn't possibly be her.
But my heart had already recognized her.
Before my mind could.
“That's her,” I whispered.
Rebecca grabbed my wrist.
“Don't go.”
I looked at her.
“You just told me she's alive.”
“I said someone wants you to believe she's alive.”
I pulled my arm free.
“The photograph shows her.”
“Photographs can be manipulated.”
“Not like this.”
Rebecca stared at me.
“You have no idea what they are capable of.”
I held up the phone.
“Then tell me.”
She didn't.
That silence was becoming its own confession.
Mark stepped between us.
“We're wasting time.”
I looked at him.
“What do you suggest?”
“We go back for Emily.”
My stomach tightened.
He was right.
Whatever was happening at the cemetery, Emily came first.
We had left my mother with her at the chapel.
But as we moved through the forest, my phone rang.
My mother.
I answered immediately.
“Mom?”
Her voice was barely audible.
“Where are you?”
“I'm coming back.”
“Don't.”
My steps stopped.
“What?”
“Don't come here.”
I looked at Rebecca.
She had gone pale.
“Why?”
My mother's breathing was shaky.
“Because they're already here.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Where's Emily?”
Silence.
“Mom?”
I heard something in the background.
A door closing.
Then my mother whispered:
“They took her.”
The world stopped.
“What?”
“I tried to stop them.”
“Who took her?”
“I don't know.”
“Mom, tell me!”
“I’m sorry.”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
“No.”
Mark grabbed my shoulder.
“We'll get her.”
I looked at Rebecca.
She was already crying.
“You knew this would happen.”
“No.”
“You knew they would take her.”
“I knew they were watching.”
“You let me walk into a trap.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“My daughter is gone!”
Rebecca flinched.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I forced myself to think.
The photograph.
The cemetery.
Emily.
The old house.
The locket.
Everything was connected.
Then I remembered the message.
Don't believe Rebecca.
I looked at her.
“Give me your phone.”
She frowned.
“Why?”
“Give it to me.”
She hesitated.
Then handed it over.
I searched her messages.
Nothing.
Call history.
Nothing unusual.
Photos.
Thousands of images.
Then I saw a hidden album.
Locked.
I looked at her.
“Password.”
She shook her head.
“Rebecca.”
“I can't.”
“Password.”
She closed her eyes.
“Emily's birthday.”
I entered it.
The folder opened.
My blood went cold.
There were dozens of photographs.
Emily sleeping.
Emily at school.
Emily playing in the backyard.
Emily eating breakfast.
Pictures taken inside our home.
I scrolled faster.
There were photographs of me too.
Sleeping.
Driving.
Working.
Talking to Rebecca.
Some dated months before Rebecca and I had even started dating.
I looked up.
“You've been watching us.”
“I was protecting you.”
“From who?”
She whispered:
“From myself.”
I stopped.
“What does that mean?”
Rebecca took the phone.
She opened one final photograph.
It showed my wife.
Alive.
Older.
Standing inside a hospital room.
A man stood beside her.
Victor.
And between them was a medical chart.
Emily's name was visible.
But beneath it was something else.
A code.
SUBJECT 17.
I felt sick.
“What is Subject 17?”
Rebecca looked away.
“Emily.”
“Why?”
“Because she wasn't the first.”
“How many?”
“Sixteen before her.”
I stared at her.
“What happened to them?”
Rebecca's eyes filled with tears.
“They died.”
The forest seemed to go silent.
“Why?”
“Because the treatment failed.”
“What treatment?”
“I don't know.”
“You were there.”
“I was a teenager.”
“You knew.”
“I knew enough to be afraid.”
I shoved the phone toward her.
“Where did they take Emily?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“Then who does?”
She looked toward the road.
“Victor.”
I stared at her.
“Why would he take her?”
“Because Subject 17 survived.”
My blood ran cold.
“What does that mean?”
“Emily's blood matched something they had been searching for.”
“Searching for what?”
Rebecca whispered:
“A cure.”
I almost laughed.
A cure.
My seven-year-old daughter wasn't a person to them.
She was a resource.
A sample.
A number.
A living experiment.
I clenched my fists.
“Where is Victor?”
Rebecca looked at the photograph.
Then she pointed toward the cemetery.
“He'll be there.”
We reached the cemetery at 11:54 PM.
Rain hammered the stone paths.
The cemetery lights flickered.
I ran toward my wife's grave.
The gate was open.
No security.
No visitors.
Only rain.
And the woman from the photograph.
She stood beside the grave.
Dark coat.
Long hair.
Back turned toward me.
My feet stopped.
I couldn't breathe.
“Sarah?”
The woman froze.
Slowly, she turned.
I saw her face.
Older.
Thinner.
A scar crossed her left cheek.
But the eyes were the same.
My wife's eyes.
I whispered:
“Sarah.”
She covered her mouth.
Tears filled her eyes.
“You shouldn't have come.”
I couldn't move.
Six years.
Six years of grief.
Six years of believing I was raising our daughter alone.
Six years of visiting this grave.
Six years of telling Emily her mother was watching over her.
And now she was standing in front of me.
Alive.
I stepped toward her.
She stepped backward.
“Don't.”
“It's me.”
“I know.”
“Sarah…”
“I know.”
I reached for her.
She pulled away.
“Why?”
“Because if you touch me, they will know I’m here.”
I stopped.
“Who?”
She looked around.
“They're watching.”
I turned.
Nothing.
Only trees.
Rain.
Graves.
Then I saw a small red light.
On top of a stone angel.
A camera.
My wife saw it too.
“We have to go.”
“No.”
“Now.”
“My daughter is missing.”
Her face changed.
“Emily?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Victor took her.”
Sarah's expression collapsed.
“No.”
She grabbed my arm.
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“Rebecca?”
“She says she doesn't know.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
“She lied.”
“I know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You don't understand.”
She looked directly at me.
“Rebecca didn't betray me.”
I stared at her.
“She saved me.”
I couldn't speak.
“She was the only reason I survived.”
“Then why did she tell me she betrayed you?”
“Because she had to.”
“Why?”
Sarah looked toward the camera.
“Because the person controlling everything is someone you trust.”
I felt a chill.
“Who?”
She didn't answer.
Instead, she reached into her coat.
She pulled out a small photograph.
She handed it to me.
It showed my mother.
Standing beside Victor.
And beside them was Rebecca.
All three were much younger.
On the back was a date.
Twenty years ago.
I stared at it.
“Why is my mother here?”
Sarah's eyes filled with tears.
“Because your mother knew about Blackridge before Emily was born.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“She helped create it.”
“No.”
“She was there when the first child died.”
I stepped backward.
My entire body felt numb.
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
Then Sarah looked past me.
Her expression changed.
“Run.”
“What?”
She grabbed my face.
“Your mother didn't lose Emily.”
“What are you saying?”
“She gave her away.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
Sarah whispered:
“She was the one who signed the original agreement.”
A sound came from behind us.
Footsteps.
I turned.
Victor stood between the cemetery gates.
He wasn't alone.
My mother was beside him.
And Emily was in his arms.
Her mouth was covered with tape.
Her eyes were wide with terror.
I ran forward.
“EMILY!”
Victor smiled.
My mother began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
I stared at her.
“Mom?”
She looked at me.
Then at Sarah.
And finally at Emily.
“I had no choice.”
Sarah stepped forward.
“You always had a choice.”
Victor raised a gun.
“Enough.”
Emily struggled against him.
I wanted to run to her.
But Victor pressed the gun against her head.
“Take one more step,” he said, “and your daughter dies.”
Everything stopped.
Then Victor looked at Sarah.
“It's time to finish what we started six years ago.”
Sarah's face went white.
Victor turned toward me.
“And now you finally get to learn why your wife disappeared.”
He smiled.
“Because she discovered who Emily's real father is.”
My heart stopped.
I looked at Sarah.
She was crying.
Victor slowly removed the tape from Emily's mouth.
My daughter screamed:
“Daddy!”
Victor whispered something into her ear.
Then he looked at me.
“Ask your wife who the real father is.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
And I realized, with a sickening certainty, that the woman I had spent six years mourning had been hiding one final secret from me.
May you like
A secret that could change everything.
Including who my daughter really was.
