Chapter 11 - MY FATHER'S STUDYMy father's house had been empty for thirteen years.
At least, that's what I believed.
The front door was unlocked.
The hallway lights were on.
Everything was exactly as I remembered.
His books.
His desk.
His old clock.
The smell of cedar.
But there was dust on the floor.
Except for one trail.
Footprints.
Someone had been living there.
Flynn stood beside me.
“You don't have to go inside.”
“Yes, I do.”
We entered the study.
The message had shown the desk.
But there was no one behind it.
Instead, there was an envelope.
My name was written across the front.
I opened it.
Inside was a letter.
Mabel,
If you are reading this, they have already told you enough to hate me.
My hands shook.
But hatred will make you blind.
Your father continues.
I tried to protect you.
I laughed bitterly.
Protect me?
He had helped arrange my marriage.
The letter continued.
The Vance family approached me when you were sixteen. They knew about your mother's genetic markers. They wanted access to you.
I looked at Flynn.
He looked sick.
I refused.
Then they threatened your life.
I stopped reading.
You were not selected because of your blood alone. You were selected because your mother had survived the first experiment.
I froze.
First experiment.
There was another page.
The pregnancy was the second stage.
I could barely breathe.
They wanted to create a child carrying both genetic markers.
The letter fell from my hand.
Flynn picked it up.
Then he saw the final sentence.
But there was one thing I never told them.
Your twins were not the first children created from these bloodlines.
We stared at one another.
“What does that mean?” Flynn asked.
I turned the page.
There was only one line.
Jonathan was the first.
Silence.
Jonathan.
The missing son.
The genetic experiment.
The proof of concept.
I felt sick.
He wasn't just part of the conspiracy.
He was the original subject.
Flynn whispered:
“That's why Marcus wanted him dead.”
“Because he knows everything.”
“No.”
Flynn pointed to another line.
“Because Jonathan survived.”
A noise came from the hallway.
We turned.
A woman stood there.
Selina.
She was holding a small black box.
“You shouldn't have come here.”
Flynn stepped in front of me.
“What is that?”
Selina smiled.
“The truth.”
She opened the box.
Inside was a tiny vial.
I recognized the label.
It was from the hospital.
My blood.
“How did you get that?”
“Your father's house contained samples from years ago.”
My stomach turned.
“What do you want?”
“Your cooperation.”
“No.”
She looked at Flynn.
“Then he dies.”
She lifted a remote.
The screen behind us turned on.
Live footage appeared.
Jonathan.
Tied to a chair.
Marcus stood beside him.
And another person walked into view.
An old woman.
Flynn stared.
“Mom?”
My breath stopped.
Flynn's mother was supposed to have died twenty years ago.
She looked at the camera.
And smiled.
“Hello, son.”
Flynn collapsed into a chair.
Selina whispered:
“Now you understand.”
The room went silent.
May you like
His mother was alive.
And she had been part of it all.
