Chapter 16 - The Recording
The recording contained twelve seconds of silence before my father's voice emerged.
“If you're going to do this, you need to understand that Elena is innocent.”
A second voice answered.
My mother's.
“She won't remember.”
My body went numb.
My father sounded furious.
“That isn't the point.”
“We need the identity.”
“You don't need our daughter.”
“You don't understand what we've built.”
“I understand perfectly.”
“Then you know why she must survive.”
“She will survive without your experiments.”
“She is the only viable subject.”
I stopped the recording.
“No.”
Margaret looked at me.
“Keep going.”
I pressed play.
My father spoke again.
“If Victoria dies, the system dies with her.”
My mother answered.
“Victoria is already dead.”
The recording ended.
I stared at the screen.
Reyes whispered,
“She ordered the fire.”
My mother had.
My own mother.
Margaret nodded.
“She needed Victoria's death.”
“Why?”
“Because the real Victoria was the original identity anchor.”
I shook my head.
“Explain.”
Margaret sat down.
“Your mother believed identities could be transferred psychologically if enough data existed.”
Sarah stood silently behind her.
“Victoria had the perfect profile.”
“Because she was my twin.”
“Yes.”
My head hurt.
“Then why did Elena survive?”
“Because your father chose you.”
“He saved me.”
“Yes.”
My mother appeared in the next recording.
She was younger.
Calmer.
Cold.
“She doesn't know she's Elena.”
My father's voice.
“She doesn't need to.”
“She will eventually.”
“I'll protect her.”
“You can't.”
“You underestimate me.”
My mother smiled.
“I already replaced the people who work for you.”
The recording ended.
Reyes looked at Margaret.
“Vale.”
Margaret nodded.
“Vale was one of them.”
I sat down.
“David knew.”
“Yes.”
“That's why he disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“He was trying to expose her.”
“Yes.”
“And my records were changed six years before his death.”
Margaret looked at me.
“Because he was getting close.”
A sound came from the doorway.
We all turned.
David stood there.
For one second the world stopped.
He looked older.
Thinner.
Scarred.
But alive.
My husband.
The man I had buried.
The man whose photograph I had kissed after his funeral because I couldn't accept that the person inside the coffin was him.
I couldn't move.
David looked at Emily's mother.
At me.
Then his expression collapsed.
“Victoria.”
I walked toward him.
He opened his arms.
I stopped an inch away.
“You let me bury you.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“Yes.”
“You watched me grieve.”
“Yes.”
“You watched Emily grow up without you.”
“I know.”
“You let me believe I was a widow.”
“I know.”
I slapped him.
The sound echoed.
David didn't move.
I slapped him again.
He closed his eyes.
“I deserved that.”
“You deserved worse.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought staying dead was the only way to keep you alive.”
“You should have trusted me.”
“I did.”
“No.”
I shoved him.
“You trusted a plan.”
“I did.”
“You trusted yourself.”
“I did.”
“You didn't trust your wife.”
David looked at me.
“I trusted you enough to know you'd come after me.”
That broke something inside me.
“You knew I'd come.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you come home?”
“Because your mother had someone inside your house.”
I froze.
“Who?”
David looked at Reyes.
“Someone you still trust.”
The room went silent.
I looked at Reyes.
He shook his head.
“Don't look at me.”
David didn't answer.
“Who?”
David reached into his coat.
He pulled out a photograph.
It showed my family at Christmas.
Me.
David.
Emily.
Margaret.
And General Vale.
Everyone smiling.
On the back was a handwritten note.
HE'S NOT THE INFORMANT.
Below it:
HE'S THE HANDLER.
I looked at Margaret.
She was crying.
“Who is the informant?”
David whispered,
“Your mother.”
I stared.
“No.”
“She gave the Prescotts everything.”
“Why?”
“Because she believed they were protecting the country.”
David's face hardened.
“Until she realized they were building replacements for politicians, judges, generals, and witnesses.”
Sarah whispered,
“And then they turned on her.”
David nodded.
“Exactly.”
I looked at him.
“Then why is my mother still alive?”
David didn't answer.
Margaret did.
“She isn't.”
I froze.
“What?”
The woman on the screens.
The woman in the basement.
The woman I had just spoken to.
Margaret whispered,
“That woman isn't Marisol.”
My blood turned cold.
“Then who is she?”
Sarah looked at me.
“She's me.”
I stared at her.
“She is another Sarah?”
“No.”
Sarah's voice shook.
“She is the first successful replacement.”
May you like
David looked at me.
“Her real name is Victoria.”
