Chapter 8 - Project OrchidDr. Harris sat at my kitchen table.
The curtains were closed.
The lights were off.
Outside, Chicago moved normally.
Inside my house, my entire identity was collapsing.
"What does Project Orchid mean?"
He rubbed his face.
"It started before medical school."
"That's impossible."
"No."
"Who created it?"
"I don't know."
"Who knows?"
"Several people."
"Nate?"
"Yes."
"Avery?"
"Yes."
"Yourself?"
He nodded.
I stared at him.
"Then tell me what it is."
He breathed in slowly.
"Project Orchid was a longitudinal study."
"Studying what?"
"Neurological resilience."
I frowned.
"That's not what the files say."
"Because the public version isn't the real program."
"What was the real program?"
"Identifying people with a rare genetic marker."
"What marker?"
"A mutation associated with tissue regeneration and drug metabolism."
I laughed bitterly.
"So you're telling me my husband married me because of genetics?"
"Not exactly."
"Then exactly."
"He married you because of the marker."
I couldn't breathe.
"How?"
"Your blood was identified when you were a teenager."
"By whom?"
"I don't know."
"Where?"
He hesitated.
"At a research hospital."
I thought about my childhood.
The blood tests.
The unexplained neurological episodes.
The doctors my mother never named.
The memory of being ten years old and spending two weeks in a hospital.
I had forgotten most of it.
Maybe someone had made sure I forgot.
"What did they want from me?"
"Your genetic profile."
"Why?"
"They believed it could make certain implants safer."
I thought of Eleanor.
Patient 417.
The experimental cardiac device.
"My biology was connected to the implant."
He nodded.
"But that doesn't explain Nate."
"It does."
"How?"
"Nate's family funded the program."
I stood.
"He married me for a medical experiment."
"Hannah..."
"Don't."
I walked to the window.
After a long silence, I asked,
"Did Nate know?"
"From the beginning."
I closed my eyes.
The wedding.
Our honeymoon.
Our first anniversary.
Everything.
Then why had he stayed eight years?
Dr. Harris answered before I asked.
"Because things changed."
"When?"
"After you discovered the clinic."
"What clinic?"
"The research facility under Turner Biomedical."
I turned.
"I've never seen it."
"You've never been supposed to."
"Where is it?"
He looked at me.
"Under your husband's company headquarters."
My phone rang.
Avery.
I answered.
"Where's Nate?"
"Alive."
"That's not an answer."
"You've discovered Project Orchid."
"Yes."
"Then you know enough to be afraid."
"I've been afraid all night."
He paused.
Then said,
"Nathaniel didn't marry you to study you."
"Then why?"
"Because he was ordered to."
My pulse stopped.
"By whom?"
"You've been asking the wrong question, Hannah."
"What should I ask?"
"Who ordered your mother to give you up."
My body went cold.
"My mother?"
Avery continued.
"Your mother didn't raise you."
"Yes, she did."
"No."
He said the next words softly.
"She adopted you."
The room spun.
"That's impossible."
"Look at your DNA report again."
The line went dead.
I turned to the report.
The surname Vale.
Jonathan Vale.
Then I understood.
He wasn't a stranger.
He was my biological father.
And suddenly, the dead patient, the secret project, my husband's family and the marriage itself all pointed toward one horrifying possibility.
May you like
I hadn't been recruited.
I had been returned.
