CHAPTER 7: TEN MINUTES TO FIND MY DAUGHTER
The countdown was already moving.
09:59:58
09:59:57
09:59:56
I stared at the screen.
Ten minutes.
That's all they had given me.
Ten minutes to find a daughter I had believed was dead for ten years.
Ten minutes to reach a hidden facility beneath a hospital that supposedly no longer existed.
Ten minutes before someone killed my child.
My daughter.
The word felt unreal.
I'd spent ten years mourning a baby who, apparently, had been alive the entire time.
I turned toward Daniel.
“You're taking us there.”
He looked at me.
“I know the way.”
“You're coming.”
“I have to.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You're coming because you owe her ten years.”
Daniel's face collapsed.
“I know.”
Marcus grabbed his phone.
“Get two teams to the old St. Vincent property.”
One officer immediately moved.
I looked at Marcus.
“How far?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“We don't have twenty.”
“I know.”
“Then drive faster.”
He stared at me for a second.
Then nodded.
We ran downstairs.
My son followed.
Marcus stopped him.
“You stay here.”
“No.”
My son looked at me.
“I want to find her.”
I knelt.
“You're ten years old.”
“So is she.”
I froze.
He wiped his tears.
“She waited ten years.”
That sentence broke something inside me.
I stood.
“He comes with us.”
Marcus shook his head.
“Claire, this is dangerous.”
“So is leaving him here.”
He looked at the police officers.
“Then he stays between us. Nobody lets him out of sight.”
We rushed toward the SUVs.
As I climbed inside, Daniel stopped beside my door.
“Claire.”
I looked at him.
“There is something you need to know.”
“Not now.”
“It matters.”
“What?”
He hesitated.
“The girl may not be the only child down there.”
My blood froze.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
“You always say that.”
“I saw rooms.”
“What rooms?”
“Nurseries.”
“How many?”
Daniel swallowed.
“Seven.”
I stared at him.
“Seven?”
He nodded.
“Seven children?”
“I don't know.”
“Then we're not only going for our daughter.”
Daniel looked away.
“No.”
I understood.
“We're going to find all of them.”
The SUV exploded out of the gates.
Marcus drove.
Daniel sat beside him.
I sat in the back with my son.
He held the black drive.
It was still flashing.
08:31:04
I watched the seconds disappear.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“What if she doesn't remember me?”
I looked at him.
“She will.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you're her brother.”
He nodded.
Then whispered:
“I remember her.”
My heart tightened.
“You remember her?”
He closed his eyes.
“Sometimes.”
“What do you remember?”
“A song.”
“What song?”
He hummed softly.
A lullaby.
One I hadn't heard in years.
I froze.
It was the song I used to sing during my pregnancy.
The song I sang the night before he was born.
“How do you know that?”
He opened his eyes.
“She sang it.”
My skin prickled.
“She?”
“My sister.”
I looked at Daniel.
He heard it too.
His face had gone pale.
Marcus glanced at us through the mirror.
“What?”
I didn't answer.
My son continued.
“She used to sing it when I was scared.”
“You were babies.”
He shrugged.
“I don't know.”
Then he touched his forehead.
“I just remember.”
The old hospital appeared in the distance.
Or what remained of it.
A fenced-off property.
Broken windows.
Overgrown weeds.
A rusted sign.
ST. VINCENT MEDICAL CENTER
Closed.
Demolished.
Forgotten.
Except Daniel knew exactly where to go.
He jumped out before the SUV fully stopped.
“Here.”
He ran toward a concrete structure behind the hospital.
We followed.
He moved a rusted metal plate.
Underneath was a staircase.
Marcus looked at him.
“You've been here recently.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Not for eight years.”
“Then how do you know the entrance?”
“I never forgot.”
We descended.
The air became colder.
The walls changed.
Old concrete gave way to steel.
Then a door.
A keypad.
Daniel entered a code.
Red light.
Access denied.
He tried again.
Denied.
Marcus looked at him.
“Wrong code.”
Daniel shook his head.
“It was the code.”
I looked at the black drive.
“Maybe it isn't the code anymore.”
My son stepped forward.
“Let me.”
I grabbed his shoulder.
“No.”
He looked at the keypad.
Then placed his finger against it.
The light turned green.
The door opened.
Nobody moved.
Marcus whispered:
“That's not possible.”
We entered.
The hallway was spotless.
Too spotless.
This place wasn't abandoned.
It was active.
Cameras tracked us.
Lights turned on one by one.
Then a voice came through the speakers.
“Welcome home, Claire.”
I froze.
My son grabbed my hand.
“Who is that?”
The voice laughed softly.
“You don't recognize me?”
I looked at Daniel.
He whispered:
“Richard.”
The speaker crackled.
“No.”
A pause.
“Not Richard.”
The lights flickered.
Then a woman appeared on a monitor.
I recognized her immediately.
Victoria.
My blood ran cold.
She smiled.
“Hello, Claire.”
I couldn't speak.
Marcus raised his weapon toward the screen.
“Where is the girl?”
Victoria laughed.
“You're still trying to play the hero.”
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
“Release her.”
“No.”
My son stepped toward the screen.
“Where is my sister?”
Victoria's expression changed.
For the first time, she looked surprised.
Then she smiled.
“So he knows.”
I felt my blood boil.
“What did you do to her?”
“Nothing.”
“You stole my daughter.”
“We saved her.”
“You separated twins.”
“Because she was valuable.”
My son shouted:
“She is not a thing!”
Victoria stared at him.
Then laughed.
“You sound exactly like your mother.”
I stepped forward.
“You wanted the children.”
Victoria's smile disappeared.
“We needed them.”
“How many?”
Silence.
I repeated:
“How many children are here?”
She looked away.
Then said:
“Seven.”
My stomach turned.
Seven.
Daniel had been telling the truth.
“What did you do to them?”
“Study.”
My hands curled into fists.
“Why?”
“Your father discovered something.”
“What?”
“He discovered that certain children could carry information through genetic markers.”
Marcus frowned.
“That's scientifically absurd.”
Victoria smiled.
“You'll see.”
I looked at my son.
“Where is my daughter?”
“Floor seven.”
Marcus looked at the elevator.
“There is no floor seven.”
Victoria laughed.
“Not on the official plans.”
The screen went black.
A red light appeared at the end of the corridor.
Then a door opened.
My son's face changed.
“I hear her.”
I listened.
At first, nothing.
Then faintly...
A child's voice.
Singing.
The same lullaby.
My heart broke.
“That's her.”
We ran.
Marcus shouted:
“Wait!”
But I couldn't.
I followed the voice.
The corridor split into three directions.
The singing came from the middle.
We turned.
A steel door stood at the end.
I grabbed the handle.
Locked.
Marcus tried his equipment.
Nothing.
My son stepped forward.
“Let me.”
I looked at him.
He placed his palm against the door.
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
Inside was a small room.
A bed.
A chair.
A camera.
And a little girl sitting against the wall.
She looked up.
Her eyes met mine.
I knew her immediately.
Not because of the photograph.
Not because of the files.
Because something inside me recognized her.
I whispered:
“Baby…”
She stood.
Her lips trembled.
“Mommy?”
I ran to her.
She ran into my arms.
I held her so tightly that she cried.
“I knew you'd come.”
I couldn't stop crying.
“I've been looking for you.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I've been waiting.”
My son approached slowly.
The girl looked at him.
“Brother?”
He smiled through tears.
“Yeah.”
She reached for him.
They hugged.
Ten years.
Ten years stolen.
I looked around the room.
“Who did this to you?”
My daughter pulled away.
Her face changed.
“Mommy…”
“What?”
“You can't stay.”
“Why?”
She looked toward the camera.
“They're watching.”
Marcus immediately smashed it.
The screen went dark.
My daughter grabbed my arm.
“It's too late.”
“What?”
“They know you're here.”
The lights suddenly turned red.
A siren began.
Marcus looked toward the hallway.
“Move!”
We rushed out.
Steel doors began closing one after another.
My daughter grabbed my hand.
“Mommy!”
“I've got you!”
We ran.
Then Daniel stopped.
“Wait!”
I turned.
He was staring at the far end of the corridor.
Richard Cross stood there.
Beside him was Victoria.
But neither of them was holding a weapon.
Because they didn't need one.
A dozen armed men stepped out behind them.
Richard smiled.
“Claire.”
I pulled both children behind me.
“You're not taking them.”
Richard shook his head.
“No.”
He smiled.
“We're taking you.”
Victoria stepped forward.
“You finally brought us exactly what we needed.”
I looked at my son.
Then my daughter.
“What?”
Victoria pointed at them.
“Both halves.”
Marcus raised his weapon.
Richard smiled.
“Shoot me, and every door in this facility locks permanently.”
Marcus froze.
Richard looked at me.
“Your father didn't hide the evidence in a vault.”
He pointed toward my children.
“He divided it.”
My heart stopped.
“And your children…”
He smiled.
“…are the two keys.”
Then the lights went completely dark.
And somewhere behind us, another door opened.
A child's voice whispered:
“Mommy?”
My daughter went pale.
“That isn't one of us.”
I turned.
“How many children did they say there were?”
She grabbed my hand.
“Seven.”
“And how many are here?”
She whispered:
“Eight.”
Then a small figure stepped out of the darkness.
A little boy.
Same age.
Same eyes.
Same face.
As my son.
My daughter screamed.
“That's him.”
I stared at the boy.
He smiled at me.
May you like
Then said:
“I'm the original.”
