Chapter 8 - THE FILEEmergency generators kicked in.

The hospital plunged into chaos.

Patients screamed.

Alarms blared.

Security rushed through the corridors.

I stood frozen.

The sentence kept replaying in my head.

She is the reason they chose Emily.

I didn't understand.

The detective grabbed my arm.

“We need to move.”

“Why?”

“Because someone just shut down power to an entire hospital.”

We moved Emily into a secure isolation room.

The microchip remained in police custody.

The video was being analyzed.

Then a technician found something.

The original file had been edited.

There was another hidden segment.

It contained a document.

My name.

SARAH JENKINS.

I stared at the screen.

My personnel file appeared.

But parts of it were wrong.

My medical records.

My school history.

My birth certificate.

All fabricated.

The detective looked at me.

“Sarah…”

“No.”

I stepped away.

“That isn't possible.”

A second file opened.

An old photograph.

A little girl.

Age seven.

Standing outside the same clinic.

The girl's name:

Ariana Reed.

I stared.

It was me.

Or someone who looked exactly like me.

My knees nearly gave out.

“No.”

A memory surfaced.

A woman's voice.

A hallway.

A red door.

A hospital bracelet.

But it vanished before I could grab it.

The detective asked:

“Do you remember being there?”

“No.”

Then Emily spoke.

“She does.”

I turned.

Emily was crying.

“You forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“They erased it.”

My chest tightened.

“Who?”

“Daniel's mother.”

I stared at her.

Emily whispered:

“You were there the night Ariana disappeared.”

I couldn't speak.

The investigation was no longer about Emily.

It was about me.

I had spent eight years treating victims without realizing I might have been one.

Then we found the final piece.

A surgical record from fifteen years ago.

A seven-year-old girl underwent emergency surgery after an accident.

The patient name had been changed.

Original name:

Ariana Reed.

Current name:

Sarah Jenkins.

I staggered backward.

The detective stared at the document.

“But then…”

Emily finished the sentence.

“You aren't Sarah.”

The room went silent.

I looked at my reflection in the dark hospital window.

Suddenly, I didn't recognize the woman staring back.

Then my phone buzzed.

One message.

From an unknown number.

HELLO, ARIANA.

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