We stayed inside the farmhouse until dawn.
No one slept.
Jason sat near the window with the curtains barely open, watching the road. Emily held the baby in an old rocking chair she had found in one of the bedrooms. The stranger remained at the table, sorting through documents as though every page might contain an answer he had missed years ago.
I sat on the floor beside the fireplace.
I couldn't stop looking at my hands.
They were the same hands I had always known.
But the story attached to them had changed.
I had spent my life believing I was one half of a pair.
Now I knew I had been something else.
A child hidden inside another identity.
A secret my parents had protected by turning my relationship with Jason into a story everyone could understand.
Jason finally broke the silence.
“Do you remember anything before I was born?”
I looked at him.
“I don't know.”
“Try.”
I closed my eyes.
There was a garden.
A bicycle.
A woman laughing.
A little boy wasn't there.
I opened my eyes.
“I remember Mom calling me from the porch.”
Jason's face tightened.
“Before I was born?”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“I remember a blue blanket.”
The stranger looked up.
“What kind?”
“Small. With stars.”
His expression changed.
“Why?”
“Because I remember sleeping under it.”
He opened a folder.
Inside was a photograph of a baby wrapped in a blue blanket covered with tiny white stars.
My breath caught.
“That was mine.”
The stranger nodded.
“Your mother kept it.”
Jason looked at the photograph.
“So she knew.”
“She always knew.”
“Why didn't she tell us?”
“She wanted to.”
“What stopped her?”
“Your father.”
I looked at the stranger.
“Did he threaten her?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“He told her the researchers would take both children if she spoke.”
I thought about my mother.
The way she hugged us.
The way she always checked the locks.
The way she became nervous whenever strangers came to the house.
It all looked different now.
Not random.
Not paranoid.
Protective.
Emily quietly asked, “What happened to Subject 12 after the program?”
The stranger looked at me.
“She became your sister.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“She became you.”
Emily frowned.
“I don't understand.”
“The child in the photographs was raised by your parents.”
“So she became me.”
“Yes.”
“Then where did Jason come from?”
“Subject 13 was transferred into the family later.”
Jason stared at him.
“Later?”
“You were born from the second embryo.”
“But our birth certificate…”
“Created to match hers.”
I looked at Jason.
“So I am older.”
“By eleven months.”
Jason laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Eleven months.”
He rubbed his face.
“Our entire lives.”
“Were real,” I said.
He looked at me.
“Yes.”
“That's what matters.”
He nodded.
But I could see the pain in his expression.
He had lost something too.
Not me.
The history he thought belonged to us.
Emily looked down at the baby.
“Then what is she?”
The stranger hesitated.
“She is the first child created from both lines.”
“What does that mean?”
“Your mother's original genetic sequence and Subject 13's modified sequence were combined.”
Jason stared.
“So she isn't simply a child from the old embryo.”
“No.”
“She's new.”
“Yes.”
I felt the baby move against Emily's chest.
“What does that mean medically?”
The stranger's expression became serious.
“I don't know.”
“That isn't good enough.”
“I know.”
“Then we need a doctor.”
Jason looked at me.
“Not one connected to the clinic.”
“No.”
The stranger nodded.
“I know someone.”
“Who?”
“A geneticist who worked with your mother.”
“Can we trust her?”
“She tried to expose the program.”
“What happened?”
“They threatened her family.”
“Where is she now?”
The stranger gave us an address.
It was several hours away.
Jason stood.
“Then we go.”
The stranger looked toward the window.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because they expect you to leave.”
I frowned.
“What do they want?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if they can prove Subject 12 survived, they can recover the research.”
I looked at the baby.
“And if they have me?”
“They don't need her.”
That sentence frightened me.
Jason understood immediately.
“You're saying they'll use my sister to find the baby.”
The stranger nodded.
I held my breath.
“So I am the bait.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You are the key.”
Before I could ask what that meant, Emily cried out.
The baby had begun screaming.
Her little body stiffened.
I moved toward her.
“What happened?”
Emily looked terrified.
“She was fine.”
The baby's face was flushed.
Her hands clenched.
The stranger rushed over.
“Lay her down.”
Emily obeyed.
He examined the baby's back.
The mark had changed.
The red lines were darker.
And the circle around them appeared almost purple.
Jason stared.
“What is happening?”
“I don't know.”
“You said you knew.”
“I said I knew the program.”
The stranger opened a medical folder.
“Her temperature.”
Emily checked.
“It's rising.”
“Call the doctor.”
Jason reached for his phone.
“No.”
The stranger stopped him.
“Why?”
“Because the hospital is monitored.”
“Then what are we supposed to do?”
The stranger took out an old medical kit.
Inside was a thermometer, several sterile supplies, and a small device.
He placed it near the baby's back.
The device beeped.
He stared at the display.
“What?”
I asked.
He didn't answer.
Jason grabbed his arm.
“What does it say?”
The stranger finally spoke.
“She's reacting to the marker.”
“Meaning?”
“It has activated.”
Jason looked at me.
“Activated for what?”
The stranger's face had gone pale.
“A genetic trigger.”
“What does it do?”
“I don't know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because nobody has ever seen it activate in a living child.”
Emily's eyes filled with tears.
“Is she going to die?”
The stranger looked at the baby.
“No.”
His voice was uncertain.
“But something is changing.”
The baby suddenly stopped crying.
The room became silent.
Her breathing steadied.
The stranger watched the device.
The number on the screen continued climbing.
Then the machine gave one long beep.
A tiny line appeared across the display.
The stranger stared at it.
“What?”
Jason demanded.
He turned the screen toward us.
A sequence of letters appeared.
Not medical terminology.
A name.
I read it twice.
My own name.
I felt my heart stop.
“Why is my name on that?”
The stranger looked at me.
“Because the baby recognizes your genetic sequence.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if the marker is designed to connect the child to the original subject.”
“You mean me.”
“Yes.”
Jason looked between us.
“So the baby isn't just carrying the same genes.”
“No.”
“What then?”
The stranger swallowed.
“She was designed to identify you.”
A sound came from outside.
A car door slammed.
Then another.
The stranger looked toward the window.
Three vehicles had entered the driveway.
Jason moved to the door.
“How many people?”
“Too many.”
Emily held the baby.
I stood.
“What do we do?”
The stranger pointed toward the basement.
“There is another exit.”
Jason looked at me.
“You first.”
“No.”
He frowned.
“You're carrying the baby.”
“I know.”
He stepped closer.
“Then I'm staying with you.”
The stranger opened the hidden door beneath the stairs.
A narrow passage appeared.
Before we entered, I looked back at the farmhouse.
The old photograph was still missing.
The files were scattered across the table.
Our parents' secret had finally come into the light.
And outside, the people who had buried it were coming to take it back.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: We Found the Hidden Laboratory Beneath Our Father’s Old Property, and the First Recorded Experiment Changed What I Believed About My Mother Forever
My Twin Brother Had Waited Years for This Child, Yet the First Thing He Saw After Her Birth Made Him Step Away
Part 7 of 20
