Chapter 4 - Ryan didn't sleep.He spent the entire night studying every photograph, every document, every scrap of paper he'd found.
By sunrise, the dining room table looked like the investigation board of a detective who had forgotten what sleep felt like.
Birth records.
Medical records.
Lily's death certificate.
The wedding photographs.
The envelope.
The ultrasound.
And one question that refused to die.
Who was the other child?
Lily sat quietly near the window.
Noah slept beside her.
Ryan looked at the ultrasound again.
The date was seven months before Lily's birth.
The image showed two fetal shapes.
Twins.
Ryan's hands went cold.
He grabbed Emily's old pregnancy records.
There had only ever been one baby listed.
One heartbeat.
One delivery.
One death.
But the ultrasound clearly showed two.
Ryan stared at the photograph until his eyes hurt.
Then he heard a floorboard creak upstairs.
He reached for the handgun he kept locked in his office.
“Lily, stay here.”
He went upstairs.
The bedroom door was open.
Inside, everything looked normal.
Too normal.
Ryan checked the closet.
Nothing.
Bathroom.
Empty.
Then he noticed the mirror.
A red mark had been drawn across it.
A number.
2
Ryan stepped closer.
Below it were three words.
SHE IS WAKING.
His phone vibrated.
A security alert.
Basement motion detected.
Ryan rushed downstairs.
The basement door was open.
He had not opened it.
He descended.
The hidden passage beneath the kitchen seemed darker than before.
At the bottom, the door where the voice had come from was now open.
Inside was another room.
Ryan entered.
The walls were covered with photographs.
Of Emily.
Of himself.
Of Noah.
And Lily.
Some dated years before Ryan had even met Emily.
Then Ryan saw one that made him stop.
It showed Lily as an infant.
But standing beside her was another baby.
Two bassinets.
Two children.
Two hospital bracelets.
Ryan looked at the date.
October third.
Seven years ago.
He grabbed the photograph.
On the bottom corner was a hospital name.
St. Vincent Children's Center.
Ryan knew that hospital.
He had worked there for six months as a security consultant.
Years ago.
Before meeting Emily.
Suddenly, memories surfaced.
Night shifts.
Locked neonatal corridors.
An infant's cry.
A woman screaming.
A security report that had mysteriously disappeared.
Ryan had always thought the incident was unrelated.
Now he wasn't sure.
He searched the room.
A filing cabinet stood against the wall.
Inside were dozens of documents.
Patient records.
Invoices.
Security reports.
Most names were blacked out.
But one file wasn't.
PROJECT HOLLOW.
Ryan opened it.
The first page contained only one sentence.
SUBJECTS ARE TO BE RAISED IN SEPARATE ENVIRONMENTS UNTIL AGE SEVEN.
Ryan felt sick.
He flipped the page.
SUBJECT A: LILY MERCER
Then:
SUBJECT B: GRACE MERCER
Ryan froze.
Grace.
The name Emily had once mentioned casually when explaining what she would have named another daughter.
Ryan turned the page.
There was a photograph.
A child.
Same age as Lily.
Same eyes.
Same dark hair.
Ryan stared.
Twins.
Emily had never lost a baby.
She had been raising one in secret.
And hiding another beneath their house.
Ryan heard footsteps behind him.
He turned.
Emily stood in the doorway.
Her face was exhausted.
She looked at the file in his hands.
Then at the photograph.
“You weren't supposed to find that.”
Ryan raised the gun.
“Where is my other daughter?”
Emily closed her eyes.
“I don't know.”
“Don't lie.”
“I’m not.”
“Then who is Grace?”
Emily started crying.
“You have no idea what you've walked into.”
Ryan stepped closer.
“You buried a fake body.”
“Yes.”
“You kept Lily underground.”
“Yes.”
“You've been lying to me for seven years.”
Emily couldn't answer.
Ryan's voice cracked.
“Why?”
She looked at him.
“Because I was trying to keep them alive.”
“Who?”
Emily whispered:
“Both of them.”
Ryan lowered the gun slightly.
“Where is Grace?”
Emily looked toward the ceiling.
Then she said:
“She was never under this house.”
A loud crash came from upstairs.
Noah screamed.
Ryan ran.
Emily followed.
They reached the kitchen.
Noah was standing beside the open back door.
Lily was gone.
On the floor lay Noah's hoodie.
And written across the kitchen tiles in black marker were four words:
ONE CHILD TAKEN. ONE REMAINING.
Ryan looked at Emily.
Her face went white.
Then her phone rang.
She answered.
A distorted voice said:
“You failed me again.”
Emily whispered:
“Victor.”
The voice replied:
“No.”
May you like
A pause.
“Your husband did.”
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