Chapter 8: The Children Who Were Never Mine
“And neither is the baby in your arms.”
My mother's words seemed to drain every bit of warmth from the room.
I stared at her.
For nineteen years, I had believed she was dead.
Now she stood only a few feet away, older than the woman I remembered but unmistakably familiar.
The same eyes.
The same voice.
The same small scar beside her mouth.
I couldn't move.
“Mom?”
She smiled.
Not warmly.
Almost sadly.
“Hello, Daniel.”
Claire screamed.
“Don't listen to her!”
My mother looked at Claire.
“You've been lying to him for years.”
Claire's face twisted with fear.
“You don't know anything.”
“I know everything.”
Michael raised his gun.
“Stay where you are.”
My mother glanced at him.
“Put the gun down, Michael.”
He didn't move.
She smiled.
“You always were the reckless one.”
Michael's expression hardened.
“You should have stayed dead.”
Her smile disappeared.
“I tried.”
Then she looked at me.
“But your father wouldn't let me.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“My father is dead.”
“Yes.”
“Then who killed him?”
She stared at me.
“You did.”
The room went silent.
I shook my head.
“No.”
“You were seven.”
“I don't remember.”
“You weren't supposed to.”
Claire grabbed my arm.
“Daniel, don't believe her.”
My mother laughed quietly.
“Still protecting him?”
Claire's eyes filled with tears.
“You don't get to talk about protecting anyone.”
My mother ignored her.
“Daniel, do you remember the night of the fire?”
I closed my eyes.
Again, the memory came.
Smoke.
Screaming.
A man on his knees.
A gun.
My mother's face.
And a little boy crying.
I opened my eyes.
“What happened?”
My mother stepped closer.
“Your father discovered that I had taken you.”
“Taken me?”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
She looked toward Claire.
“From the laboratory.”
My stomach dropped.
“What laboratory?”
“The place where your father created Alex.”
Michael lowered his weapon slightly.
My mother continued.
“You weren't born the way you think.”
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
“You were born naturally.”
I frowned.
“Then why the laboratory?”
“Because your father took you there when you were three.”
“Why?”
“To study you.”
“Study what?”
“Your memories.”
I felt sick.
“What did he want?”
“To know whether memories could be transferred.”
I looked at Tommy.
“Transferred into another person?”
My mother nodded.
“Exactly.”
I stepped backward.
“Then Tommy…”
“He is not your son.”
I tightened my arms around him.
“Stop saying that.”
My mother looked at him.
“He carries your memories.”
Claire shook her head.
“No.”
My mother looked at her.
“You know it's true.”
Claire whispered:
“You're lying.”
“You saw the scans.”
Claire went silent.
My mother's gaze returned to me.
“Your wife discovered the truth before Tommy was born.”
I turned toward Claire.
“Is that true?”
She didn't answer.
“Claire.”
Tears rolled down her face.
“Yes.”
My heart sank.
“You knew?”
“I didn't know everything.”
“How much?”
She wiped her eyes.
“I knew someone had been using our children.”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
“He's dead.”
“His work isn't.”
My mother nodded.
“Exactly.”
Michael suddenly interrupted.
“Where is the real Tommy?”
My mother looked at him.
“The real Tommy?”
Michael stepped forward.
“The baby Claire gave birth to.”
My mother's expression changed.
“He died.”
Claire began crying.
“Then why did you tell Daniel there were two babies?”
My mother smiled.
“Because there were.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
She looked directly at me.
“The baby Claire gave birth to was taken.”
“By who?”
“By the people who created him.”
I felt rage rising.
“Why?”
“To replace you.”
Michael shook his head.
“No.”
My mother looked at him.
“Yes.”
Michael's face went pale.
“They succeeded.”
My eyes dropped to Tommy.
I couldn't accept it.
“Then who is he?”
My mother answered:
“Your replacement.”
The baby in my arms suddenly smiled.
Not a baby's smile.
A slow, deliberate smile.
I stepped backward.
Tommy looked at my mother.
“Grandma.”
My blood froze.
My mother smiled.
“You remember me.”
Claire screamed.
“Daniel, put him down!”
I stared at my wife.
“What?”
“Put him down!”
“Why?”
“Because that's not Tommy.”
Tommy turned his head toward Claire.
His expression became completely blank.
Then he said:
“Mommy.”
Claire backed away.
“No.”
“Mommy.”
“No!”
Tommy's voice changed.
It became deeper.
Older.
“Why did you leave me?”
Claire collapsed against the wall.
I stared at him.
“Who are you?”
Tommy looked at me.
“I'm Alex.”
Everything stopped.
Michael whispered:
“No…”
Tommy smiled.
“I remember.”
I couldn't breathe.
“You're a baby.”
“I know.”
“How can you talk?”
Tommy tilted his head.
“I've always been able to.”
Claire covered her mouth.
Michael stepped backward.
“This isn't possible.”
My mother looked almost pleased.
“It worked.”
I turned toward her.
“What worked?”
“The transfer.”
“Whose memories?”
She looked at me.
“Yours.”
My knees almost gave out.
Tommy looked at me.
“Do you remember the fire?”
I couldn't answer.
He continued.
“You were holding Mommy.”
My mother's face changed.
“Don't.”
Tommy ignored her.
“Daddy was angry.”
My breathing became shallow.
“Stop.”
“Mommy tried to run.”
“Stop.”
“Then Daddy shot her.”
My mother screamed:
“ENOUGH!”
The room shook with her voice.
Tommy stared at her.
“You killed him.”
Silence.
I looked at my mother.
“What?”
She stared at Tommy.
“You shouldn't remember that.”
Tommy smiled.
“I remember everything.”
Michael suddenly lowered his weapon.
“Daniel…”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“She's been trying to recover Alex's memories for years.”
I stared at Tommy.
“Why?”
“Because Alex wasn't supposed to die.”
My mother whispered:
“He was perfect.”
I felt sick.
“You killed my father?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
She looked at me.
“You did.”
The memory hit me again.
This time it didn't fade.
I saw myself at seven.
Holding the gun.
My father standing in front of me.
My mother screaming.
But then I saw something I had never remembered.
Someone behind me.
A little boy.
Alex.
He was alive.
He grabbed my arm.
The gun went off.
My father fell.
But I hadn't pulled the trigger.
Alex had.
I gasped.
“No…”
Michael stared at me.
“What did you remember?”
I looked at my mother.
“Alex killed him.”
Her face went pale.
I turned toward Tommy.
“You were there.”
He nodded.
“You remember.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did everyone say I killed him?”
My mother whispered:
“Because Alex died afterward.”
“How?”
She looked at Claire.
“Your father shot him.”
Claire began sobbing.
I stared at Tommy.
“Then how are you alive?”
Tommy's smile faded.
“I wasn't.”
The room became silent.
“What?”
“I died.”
“Then who brought you back?”
Tommy looked at my mother.
“She did.”
My mother nodded.
“Not the way you think.”
Michael suddenly raised his gun again.
“You're using him.”
My mother looked at him.
“He belongs to Daniel.”
“No.”
“He belongs to this family.”
“No!”
Michael stepped forward.
“He is a child.”
My mother smiled.
“He is the only person who remembers everything.”
I held Tommy tighter.
My mother looked at me.
“And now you remember too.”
I suddenly understood.
The photographs.
The locked room.
Claire's fear.
The strange messages.
The children.
The experiments.
None of it had been about protecting Tommy.
It had been about me.
My entire life had been built around a secret.
And now the secret was awake.
I looked at Claire.
“Why did you stay with me?”
She broke down.
“Because I loved you.”
“Even after you knew?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because every time I tried…”
She looked at my mother.
“…someone disappeared.”
My mother's face hardened.
“Enough.”
She raised her hand.
Men appeared behind her.
Michael raised his gun.
But before anyone could fire, Lily stepped forward.
“Grandma.”
Everyone froze.
My mother looked at her.
“Yes?”
Lily's face was strangely calm.
“Where is the other girl?”
My mother's expression changed.
“What girl?”
“The one who looks like me.”
Silence.
Lily continued.
“You said she was dead.”
My mother slowly smiled.
“She isn't dead.”
My heart stopped.
“Where is she?”
My mother looked toward the hallway.
“Right here.”
A door opened behind us.
A little girl stepped out.
She looked five years old.
Same height as Lily.
Same brown hair.
Same eyes.
Same face.
Lily stared at her.
The girl stared back.
Then they both whispered the same word.
“Daddy.”
I couldn't move.
Two identical little girls stood in front of me.
My mother looked at me.
“Now you understand.”
I shook my head.
“Understand what?”
She smiled.
“You were never raising one daughter.”
She pointed toward the girls.
“You were raising the first two attempts.”
I looked at Claire.
She was crying uncontrollably.
Then the girl on the left walked toward me.
She touched my hand.
And whispered:
“Daddy, I'm the one Mommy tried to kill.”
My heart stopped.
Before I could ask why, the other girl suddenly screamed.
“She's lying!”
The two girls stared at each other.
And I realized something terrifying.
May you like
Only one of them was Lily.
But I had no idea which one.
