Chapter 4: My Father Had Prepared My Wife For This Moment
Chapter 4: My Father Had Prepared My Wife For This Moment
The word hung between us.
Kill you.
I stared at Evelyn, waiting for her to deny it.
She didn’t.
That frightened me more than anything else.
“Is it true?”
Her lips parted.
“I was supposed to.”
Claire immediately stepped between us.
“Don’t go near her.”
I barely heard her.
I was still looking at my wife.
“You married me because your father told you to find Michael.”
“Yes.”
“And if I remembered…”
“Yes.”
“You were supposed to kill me.”
Evelyn’s eyes filled with tears.
“Yes.”
The room became painfully quiet.
I took another step backward.
“How?”
She shook her head.
“I couldn’t.”
“You couldn’t?”
“I tried.”
The confession made my stomach twist.
“When?”
“Before we got married.”
I stared at her.
“I put something in your drink.”
Claire’s face changed.
“What?”
Evelyn looked at the floor.
“You woke up the next morning and didn’t remember anything.”
I suddenly remembered waking up in an unfamiliar hotel room years earlier.
A headache.
A glass of water beside the bed.
Evelyn sitting next to me.
Telling me I’d had too much to drink.
I had believed her.
She had held my hand.
She had cried.
And I had never questioned it.
“You were going to kill me then?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
She finally looked at me.
“Because you said my name.”
I frowned.
“I didn’t know your name.”
“You did.”
She smiled sadly.
“You called me Evelyn.”
I felt another memory pushing against the inside of my skull.
A little girl.
A white hallway.
Her face.
Not my wife as an adult.
A child.
She was standing behind a glass window.
I was on the other side.
She mouthed something.
Evelyn.
I staggered.
Claire grabbed my arm.
“What did you see?”
“A girl.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Evelyn whispered,
“Me.”
I looked at her.
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“How old were we?”
“Six.”
The room seemed to spin again.
Six years old.
The same age.
The same clinic.
The same four children.
I looked at Claire.
“You said there were four subjects.”
“There were.”
“Claire. Sarah. Michael…”
“And you.”
“Subject Four.”
She nodded.
I looked at Evelyn.
“But you’re not one of the four.”
“No.”
“Then why were you there?”
Her expression changed.
“Because my father owned the facility.”
I stared at her.
Her father.
The man who had ordered all of this.
The man who had supposedly died.
“Where is he now?”
Evelyn didn’t answer.
Claire did.
“He’s looking for you.”
“Why?”
“Because he knows you remember.”
A loud sound came from the hallway.
All three of us froze.
Someone was walking past the room.
Slowly.
Then the footsteps stopped.
Right outside our door.
The man who had brought me here looked toward the deadbolt.
“We need to leave.”
“Who is outside?”
He didn’t answer.
The doorknob moved.
Once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
A man’s voice came through the door.
“Evelyn.”
My wife went completely pale.
The voice continued.
“You’ve had enough time.”
Claire whispered,
“That’s him.”
I looked at Evelyn.
“Your father?”
She nodded.
The door shook violently.
“Open the door.”
The man grabbed my shoulder.
“Back entrance.”
We ran.
The hotel room had a second door hidden behind the curtains.
I hadn’t noticed it when I arrived.
We pushed it open.
A narrow service corridor stretched behind the rooms.
We hurried through it.
Behind us, the hotel room door crashed open.
Someone shouted.
“Find Michael!”
We ran faster.
My mind was racing.
“How does he know I’m here?”
Evelyn answered without turning.
“Because he knew I’d bring you.”
I stopped.
She turned around.
“What?”
“You said you were trying to protect me.”
“I am.”
“You brought me here.”
“I had no choice.”
“There is always a choice.”
She looked at me.
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“Not with him.”
We reached a stairwell.
Claire opened the door.
We started down.
One floor.
Two.
Then I heard footsteps above us.
They were following.
We reached the parking garage.
The man pointed toward a black SUV.
“Get inside.”
I climbed in.
Evelyn followed.
Claire slammed the door.
The vehicle pulled away.
I looked through the rear window.
A man stood at the hotel entrance.
He didn’t chase us.
He simply watched.
Even from that distance, I recognized him.
I had seen his face before.
In the photograph.
Standing beside my father.
Victor.
My father’s supposedly dead twin.
I turned toward Evelyn.
“That was Victor.”
She said nothing.
“He’s alive.”
“Yes.”
“Then who died three years ago?”
She looked at me.
“My father.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Victor died three years ago.”
I stared back through the rear window.
The man was still standing there.
“If Victor died, who was that?”
Evelyn’s face went white.
“I don’t know.”
The driver suddenly slammed on the brakes.
Everyone lurched forward.
“What happened?”
The driver pointed ahead.
A car had stopped across the road.
Blocking us.
The same black sedan from the photograph.
The driver cursed.
Then the sedan’s doors opened.
Three men stepped out.
Claire grabbed my arm.
“Get down.”
Gunshots cracked through the garage.
The windshield shattered.
We ducked.
The driver screamed.
The SUV rolled backward.
Evelyn pulled me toward the floor.
“Don’t move.”
Another shot.
Then silence.
I lifted my head.
The driver was bleeding.
Claire was unconscious beside me.
Evelyn was gone.
I looked around in panic.
“Evelyn?”
No answer.
The rear door was open.
She had disappeared.
Then I saw something lying on the floor beside her seat.
A photograph.
I picked it up.
It was old.
Very old.
Four children stood in front of the white clinic.
But this photograph was different.
There was a fifth person standing behind them.
An adult.
My father.
And beside him…
me.
Not the six-year-old version of me.
An adult version.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Same scar.
I turned the photograph over.
Three words were written on the back.
HE CAME BACK.
My hands began shaking.
I looked at the dead driver.
At Claire.
At the empty seat where Evelyn had been.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message.
You finally remembered Michael.
Another message appeared immediately.
Now remember who you really are.
I stared at the screen.
A third message arrived.
This one contained a photograph.
It showed my childhood bedroom.
My bed.
My old toys.
And a little boy sitting on the floor.
He was holding a photograph.
I zoomed in.
The photograph showed two identical boys.
One was me.
The other was Michael.
Underneath the picture was a handwritten sentence.
Only one of them was supposed to survive.
My breathing stopped.
Then another message appeared.
Ask Claire what happened to the other boy.
I slowly turned toward Claire.
She was beginning to wake up.
Her eyes opened.
She looked at the photograph in my hand.
And the first thing she said was:
“Oh God.”
“What?”
She stared at me in horror.
“That isn’t Michael.”
I felt the blood leave my face.
“Then who is he?”
Claire looked toward the empty seat where Evelyn had been.
Then she whispered:
“That’s the question your father has been trying to make you forget.”
