CHAPTER 6: THE CHILD INSIDE THE HOUSE
“Mom…”
The voice came from somewhere inside the estate.
Soft.
Frightened.
Almost identical to my son's.
But my son was standing beside me.
I looked down.
He was gripping my hand so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
“Mom,” he whispered, “I didn't say that.”
I knew.
Every instinct in my body screamed that something was terribly wrong.
The security alarms continued to howl.
Red emergency lights flashed across the walls.
The police officers raised their weapons.
Marcus stepped in front of me.
“Everyone stay where you are.”
Then the voice came again.
“Mom…”
This time, it came from upstairs.
My son began shaking.
“I know that voice.”
I turned toward him.
“What do you mean?”
He stared at the staircase.
“That's the voice I heard before.”
“Before what?”
He swallowed.
“Before they took me downstairs.”
My blood ran cold.
Daniel suddenly looked toward the staircase.
“No.”
I turned to him.
“What?”
He shook his head.
“It's impossible.”
“What is?”
He didn't answer.
I grabbed his arm.
“You've lied to me enough tonight.”
His eyes met mine.
“What you're about to see…”
He stopped.
“What?”
“You're going to hate me.”
I almost laughed.
“I already do.”
Daniel flinched.
Then the voice came again.
“Mommy…”
My son's face drained of color.
He whispered:
“She used to call me that.”
“Who?”
He pointed toward the staircase.
“The girl.”
Silence.
Marcus turned toward him.
“What girl?”
My son shook his head.
“I don't know her name.”
“What did she look like?”
“She had my eyes.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
My son looked at me.
“She looked like me.”
I stared at Daniel.
He looked like a man who had just been cornered by a ghost.
Marcus noticed.
“Daniel.”
Daniel said nothing.
“Tell us.”
He finally whispered:
“There was another baby.”
I couldn't breathe.
“What?”
“Ten years ago.”
My knees weakened.
“You mean…”
Daniel nodded.
“Twins.”
The word seemed to echo through the room.
Twins.
My son stared at him.
“I had a sister?”
Daniel couldn't look at him.
“Yes.”
My son looked at me.
“Mom?”
I couldn't speak.
Because somewhere deep inside my memory was a strange gap.
A pregnancy.
A hospital.
A baby.
A silence.
I had always believed there had been only one child.
My son.
Daniel had told me the pregnancy had been complicated.
That the doctors had warned us about complications.
That one baby had survived.
I had believed him.
For ten years.
I turned toward him.
“What happened to her?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“She died.”
My son's eyes filled with tears.
“You lied.”
Daniel looked at him.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“You always say that!”
My son's voice cracked.
“You always say that when you lie!”
He ran upstairs.
I moved after him.
Marcus caught my arm.
“Wait.”
“Let go.”
“We don't know what's up there.”
“My son is.”
He released me.
We followed.
The hallway was dark.
Every light flickered.
The voice came again.
“Mommy…”
It was coming from the end of the corridor.
From the old nursery.
The room I hadn't opened in years.
I stopped outside the door.
My hand trembled.
There had been a time when I couldn't enter this room.
After my son's birth, Daniel had told me the room was unnecessary.
He said we'd turn it into storage.
I had never questioned him.
Now I wondered why.
Marcus stood beside me.
“Open it.”
I pushed the door.
It creaked.
The room was empty.
Dust covered the furniture.
Old toys sat beneath white sheets.
A mobile hung motionless above an empty crib.
My son stood in the doorway.
He stared at the crib.
“That's hers.”
I looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“I remember.”
He walked slowly toward it.
Then stopped.
“There.”
He pointed beneath the crib.
Marcus crouched.
He reached underneath.
His hand came back holding a small metal box.
Daniel immediately shouted:
“Don't open it!”
Everyone turned.
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because that's what they wanted.”
“What?”
“That box contains the key.”
Marcus held it up.
“To what?”
Daniel swallowed.
“The evidence.”
I stepped closer.
“Then open it.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Claire…”
“Open it.”
Marcus examined the lock.
“There is no keyhole.”
I frowned.
“Then how?”
Daniel stared at my son.
“It responds to his blood.”
My son stepped backward.
“No.”
I crouched beside him.
“It's okay.”
“I don't want to.”
“You don't have to.”
Daniel suddenly said:
“He does.”
I turned toward him.
“Don't tell my son what he has to do.”
Daniel looked broken.
“If we don't open it, they will come back.”
“They?”
“Black Meridian.”
Marcus studied the box.
“There's another way.”
He pulled a small device from his pocket.
He placed it against the lid.
Nothing happened.
Then my son's hand accidentally brushed the metal.
The box clicked.
Everyone froze.
A thin line of blue light appeared around the edges.
The lid opened.
Inside was a small black drive.
And a photograph.
I picked up the photograph.
My breath stopped.
It showed two newborn babies.
Side by side.
One was my son.
The other was a little girl.
Both had hospital bracelets.
I read them.
BABY A: MALE.
BABY B: FEMALE.
My hands trembled.
On the back of the photograph was another message.
ONE CHILD WILL CARRY THE KEY.
Marcus took the drive.
“Don't touch this.”
He connected it to an isolated device.
A folder appeared.
Hundreds of files.
Bank records.
Medical records.
Names.
Dates.
Photographs.
Then one file appeared at the top.
PROJECT MIRROR.
Marcus clicked it.
The screen displayed a medical report.
My name.
Daniel's name.
And beneath them:
SUBJECTS: TWIN CHILDREN.
I covered my mouth.
There were two children.
But the next line destroyed me.
BABY GIRL: TRANSFERRED.
My eyes blurred.
“Transferred where?”
Marcus scrolled.
There was no destination.
Only one word.
MERIDIAN.
Daniel sat on the floor.
“I couldn't stop them.”
I turned toward him.
“You gave them our daughter?”
“I thought she was dead.”
“You thought?”
“They told me she didn't survive.”
“And you believed them?”
“I was threatened!”
“You signed the papers!”
“I was trying to save you!”
“You saved yourself!”
Daniel began crying.
My son stood silently between us.
Then he asked the question that nobody wanted to hear.
“Is my sister alive?”
No one answered.
He asked again.
“Is she alive?”
Marcus looked at the screen.
His face changed.
“Claire…”
“What?”
He pointed.
A new file had appeared.
It had been hidden inside the system.
SUBJECT B: ACTIVE.
My heart stopped.
“Active?”
Marcus nodded.
“She's alive.”
My son looked at me.
“I have a sister?”
I couldn't answer.
The room suddenly filled with a sharp electronic tone.
The screen went black.
Then one line of text appeared.
YOU FOUND HER.
Marcus stepped backward.
“What the hell?”
Another line appeared.
NOW SHE KNOWS YOU FOUND HER.
Then a final line.
SHE'S COMING HOME.
The nursery door slammed shut.
My son screamed.
Marcus tried the handle.
Locked.
Daniel rushed toward the window.
“Everyone get down!”
A gunshot shattered the glass.
The bullet struck the wall inches from Marcus.
Police officers shouted.
Everyone dropped.
I pulled my son beneath the crib.
Another shot.
Then silence.
Marcus crawled toward the window.
“Shooter's gone.”
I held my son against me.
He was shaking violently.
Then something rolled across the floor.
A small black object.
It stopped directly in front of me.
A phone.
The screen lit up.
Incoming video call.
Unknown number.
Marcus reached for it.
I stopped him.
“No.”
“Claire.”
“I'll answer.”
I picked it up.
The screen turned on.
A little girl appeared.
She looked about ten years old.
Dark hair.
Pale skin.
And eyes I recognized instantly.
My eyes.
She was sitting in a dark room.
She stared into the camera.
Then whispered:
“Mommy?”
I stopped breathing.
My son crawled closer.
He saw her.
His face changed.
“That's her.”
The girl smiled.
“Brother.”
My son began crying.
“Where are you?”
The girl looked behind her.
Then whispered:
“They're coming.”
The screen shook.
Someone grabbed her shoulder.
She screamed.
“Mommy, don't let them take me again!”
The call cut.
I stood up.
“Find her.”
Marcus nodded.
“We will.”
Then Daniel said something that made everyone stop.
“I know where she is.”
I turned toward him.
“Where?”
He looked at the black screen.
“Under the old hospital.”
I frowned.
“What hospital?”
Daniel looked at me.
“The hospital where you gave birth.”
My blood ran cold.
“It was demolished eight years ago.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
He whispered:
“They only demolished the building.”
“The underground facility is still there.”
Marcus's face hardened.
“How do you know?”
Daniel looked at me.
“Because that's where I took her.”
My entire world went silent.
“You…”
He lowered his head.
“I took our daughter there the night she was born.”
I stared at him.
Then I heard my son's voice behind me.
“Mom…”
I turned.
He was holding the black drive.
There was blood on his finger.
And the drive was flashing.
A message appeared on the screen.
COME ALONE.
Then another.
OR YOUR DAUGHTER DIES.
And beneath it was a countdown.
09:59:58
May you like
Ten minutes.
Ten minutes to find the daughter I had spent ten years believing was dead.
