Chapter 9 - The Woman Who Wore My Face
There are moments when a lifetime splits in two.
For me, that moment came in a fluorescent hospital corridor while my daughter told me that my dead husband had visited her two weeks earlier.
I couldn't speak.
Reyes stared at Emily.
“You're certain?”
“Yes.”
“What did he look like?”
“Older.”
“Was he injured?”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you where he'd been?”
Emily nodded.
“He said he'd been held in a federal detention facility.”
Reyes's expression tightened.
“There are no records of David Hart in federal custody.”
“I know.”
“What else did he say?”
Emily looked at me.
“He said someone was building a second Victoria Hart.”
The words made my skin crawl.
“Second?”
She nodded.
“He said the woman was trained to imitate you.”
Reyes stepped closer.
“Voice?”
“Yes.”
“Appearance?”
“Yes.”
“Biometrics?”
Emily nodded.
“He said she had access to your records.”
I thought about the recordings.
The fake voice.
The doctored documents.
The video.
My face.
My movements.
My life.
Someone had been building a version of me for years.
Then I remembered what Vale had said.
Your records were altered before your marriage.
I looked at Reyes.
“When did my records begin changing?”
He opened his laptop.
“Six years before David died.”
My breath caught.
“That means…”
“Yes.”
“This started before I met Margaret.”
“Yes.”
“Before I married David.”
“Yes.”
“Then the Prescotts weren't targeting me because of David.”
“No.”
Reyes looked at me.
“They were already watching you.”
A federal agent rushed into the room.
“Agent Reyes.”
“What?”
“We found something in Ethan's phone.”
“What?”
“A scheduled message.”
He handed over the device.
A text was waiting.
IF VICTORIA FINDS THIS, IT MEANS THE FACILITY HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.
Then another line.
DO NOT TRUST GENERAL VALE.
I laughed bitterly.
“Everyone says that.”
The agent scrolled.
“The next message is scheduled for ten minutes from now.”
Reyes read it.
His face changed.
“What?”
“It says: VICTORIA IS NOT THE ORIGINAL.”
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
The countdown hit zero.
A video opened.
My husband's face appeared.
He looked directly into the camera.
“Victoria, if you're watching this, you have already been told that someone is impersonating you.”
He paused.
“That is only partly true.”
My hands went numb.
“Because the woman wearing your identity isn't the beginning of the story.”
He leaned closer.
“You need to ask your mother what happened in 1989.”
My breath stopped.
“My mother died in 1998.”
“I know.”
David continued.
“She knew.”
I turned toward Emily.
“What happened in 1989?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
The video ended.
Then the lights flickered.
Reyes looked toward the hallway.
“Secure the floor.”
The door opened.
A nurse walked in.
She looked familiar.
Too familiar.
My heart jumped.
Same dark hair.
Same height.
Same scar above her eyebrow that Marisol had described.
She looked at me.
Then smiled.
“Hello, Victoria.”
Reyes raised his weapon.
“Hands up.”
She lifted them.
“Don't shoot.”
“Who are you?”
She looked at me.
“My name is Sarah.”
I stared at her.
“Why do you look like me?”
She laughed.
“Because I was made to.”
The hospital alarm sounded.
Doors slammed shut.
Security lights turned red.
Reyes moved toward her.
“Who created you?”
Sarah looked at me.
“Your father.”
My blood went cold.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
She took a step closer.
“He didn't know what they were doing to you.”
“Who?”
She whispered:
“Your mother.”
I shook my head.
“My mother is dead.”
Sarah nodded.
“That's what they wanted everyone to believe.”
Then every screen in the hospital flickered.
A live video appeared.
An elderly woman sat in a dark room.
White hair.
Thin face.
Blue eyes.
I hadn't seen her in twenty-eight years.
But I knew her immediately.
My mother.
Alive.
She looked directly into the camera.
May you like
“Victoria,” she said.
“I've been waiting for you.”
