Chapter 7 — The DNA Test Nobody Was Supposed to See
Chapter 7 — The DNA Test Nobody Was Supposed to See
Daniel's words stayed in the air long after the gunfire stopped.
“Your first daughter.”
I stared at him.
For one terrible second, I couldn't understand what he meant.
Then I did.
He had chosen her.
Not Amelia.
Not me.
The daughter I had never been allowed to remember.
The child everyone had spent seven years pretending was dead.
My hands began to shake.
“You chose her?”
Daniel's face crumpled.
“Hannah, listen to me.”
“No.”
“I didn't have a choice.”
“You always have a choice.”
“I was trying to save her.”
“You chose a child you hid from me.”
“I was trying to keep her alive.”
“And what about Amelia?”
He looked at the baby.
“I never wanted anything to happen to her.”
“But you knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew there were two children.”
“Yes.”
“You knew the first one was alive.”
“Yes.”
“And you still walked out of my hospital room with another woman.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“I was trying to make them believe I had chosen the first.”
I laughed bitterly.
“So they would leave her alone?”
“Yes.”
“And Amelia?”
“I thought they would assume she wasn't the real subject.”
“But she is.”
“Yes.”
“And now they know.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Marco.
He was smiling.
He wanted me to hate Daniel.
He wanted me confused.
He wanted me to make a decision while I was terrified.
I suddenly understood something.
Marco had not come here to kill me.
He had come here to make me choose.
Again.
Just as everyone had done before.
My father.
My mother.
Daniel.
The hospital.
M-17.
They had all taken pieces of my life and called it protection.
But this time I would choose.
Not them.
Me.
I lifted my chin.
“Where is my first daughter?”
Marco's smile disappeared.
“You don't get to ask questions.”
“I just did.”
“You're in no position to negotiate.”
“Then kill me.”
Everyone froze.
I stepped forward.
“But you won't.”
Marco's eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Because you need me alive.”
I looked at the screens.
“You need what I remember.”
His expression changed.
“And if I die, you lose it.”
Silence.
I smiled despite my fear.
“So let's stop pretending you have all the power.”
Luka looked at me.
For the first time that night, there was something like pride in his eyes.
Marco lowered the remote.
“You've become more like your father than I expected.”
“I don't want to be like him.”
“You already are.”
“No.”
I looked at Amelia.
“I want to be better.”
Marco slowly lowered his weapon.
“Then come with me.”
“No.”
“Your first daughter is alive.”
“I know.”
“I can take you to her.”
“Then bring her here.”
“That isn't how this works.”
“Then it doesn't work.”
Marco's jaw tightened.
“You don't understand what you're risking.”
“I understand exactly what I'm risking.”
I held Amelia closer.
“My children.”
Marco glanced at her.
“Your daughter is not the one you think she is.”
I ignored him.
“Where is Emma?”
His expression changed.
“Don't call her that.”
“Why?”
“Because that's not her name.”
I stared at him.
“You just said she belongs to you.”
“She belongs to the program.”
“No.”
“She was born into it.”
“No.”
“She was created for it.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“She was born to me.”
Marco smiled coldly.
“You don't even remember giving birth to her.”
My heart clenched.
“But she remembers me.”
Marco's smile disappeared.
That was the first sign I'd seen that frightened him.
“What did you say?”
“My daughter remembers me.”
“You haven't seen her in seven years.”
“I don't need to.”
I touched my chest.
“A mother knows.”
Marco stared at me.
Then he said something I didn't expect.
“Perhaps.”
He turned toward the door.
“But your husband doesn't.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Marco.”
“You made your choice.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“I made it to protect her.”
“You made it because you were afraid.”
Marco looked at him with disgust.
“You always were.”
Then he walked away.
Two men remained behind.
Luka raised his weapon.
“Move.”
They backed toward the corridor.
The door slammed shut.
The hospital fell silent.
I turned toward Daniel.
“You have ten seconds.”
He stared at me.
“For what?”
“To tell me why you chose my first daughter.”
Daniel looked exhausted.
He slowly sat down.
“I didn't choose her over Amelia.”
“Then what did you choose?”
“Her survival.”
“Explain.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Six months ago, I discovered that Emma was alive.”
My stomach tightened.
“You said you found her at the Moretti estate.”
“Yes.”
“What were you doing there?”
“Looking for records.”
“For M-17?”
“Yes.”
“And you found her.”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Daniel's eyes filled with tears.
“She asked me who I was.”
I couldn't breathe.
“What did you tell her?”
“That I was a friend.”
“Did she recognize you?”
“No.”
“Did she recognize me?”
He hesitated.
“Yes.”
I stared.
“How?”
“She had a photograph.”
“Of me?”
“Yes.”
“Where did she get it?”
“Marco.”
“Why would he give her my photograph?”
“To make her believe you abandoned her.”
My chest tightened.
“What else did he tell her?”
“That you didn't want her.”
I closed my eyes.
My daughter had spent seven years believing I didn't want her.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to destroy everything.
Instead, I whispered:
“Does she hate me?”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“She asked me every night whether her mother was coming.”
My tears fell.
“What did you tell her?”
“That I didn't know.”
“You could have told her.”
“I didn't know if I could keep her alive.”
I looked at him.
“You could have told me.”
“Yes.”
“You chose not to.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because they threatened you.”
“Who?”
“Everyone involved in M-17.”
He looked at my mother.
“Your mother included.”
My mother lowered her eyes.
I turned away.
Then Daniel said:
“There was another reason.”
I looked back.
“What?”
“I found a DNA test.”
My heart stopped.
“Whose?”
“Yours.”
“Emma's?”
“No.”
“Amelia's?”
“No.”
“Then whose?”
Daniel swallowed.
“Yours and mine.”
I frowned.
“What did it say?”
“It said I wasn't Amelia's biological father.”
Silence.
I looked at my daughter.
“I knew that.”
“No.”
Daniel shook his head.
“You didn't.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The first DNA test said I was her father.”
I stared.
“Then the second one said I wasn't.”
“Why?”
“Because someone had switched the samples.”
I felt cold.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Where was the test done?”
“Briar Glen.”
“Of course.”
“That's why I ordered another one.”
“When?”
“Three weeks before you gave birth.”
I stared.
“And?”
“It said something impossible.”
“What?”
Daniel looked at Luka.
Then at my mother.
Finally, he looked at me.
“It said Amelia wasn't genetically related to you.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“I didn't believe it.”
“Because I'm her mother.”
“Yes.”
“So the test was wrong.”
“I thought so.”
“What did you do?”
“I ordered another.”
“And?”
“Same result.”
I couldn't breathe.
“No.”
Daniel reached into his coat.
He pulled out a sealed envelope.
It was old.
The paper had been folded and unfolded so many times that the edges were worn.
He placed it on the table.
“This is the second test.”
I stared at it.
“What does it say?”
“Everything.”
I didn't touch it.
“Why haven't you opened it?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That it would prove what M-17 wanted.”
Luka stepped closer.
“What did they want?”
Daniel looked at him.
“To prove that Amelia wasn't Hannah's child.”
I frowned.
“That's impossible.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Not according to the DNA.”
I looked at my mother.
She was crying.
“You knew.”
She whispered:
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because I was there when they created the embryo.”
The room went silent.
I couldn't breathe.
“What embryo?”
My mother closed her eyes.
“Amelia's.”
I stared at her.
“You created my daughter?”
“No.”
“Then what did you do?”
“We tried to create a child who could survive M-17.”
I felt sick.
“Why?”
“Because your first daughter was dying.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
My mother continued.
“Emma was sick.”
“Why?”
“Her body was rejecting the genetic modifications.”
I looked at Daniel.
“That was why you chose her.”
“Yes.”
“Then Amelia was created as a replacement.”
“No.”
My mother shook her head.
“She was created as a cure.”
I couldn't speak.
“She was supposed to have the same genetic marker,” my mother said, “but without the instability.”
I looked at Amelia.
“She was born naturally.”
“Yes.”
“From my body.”
“Yes.”
“Then why doesn't the DNA test show that?”
My mother looked at Daniel.
“Because the test wasn't comparing her to you.”
I frowned.
“What was it comparing?”
She whispered:
“Your genetic material before M-17.”
I stared.
“I don't understand.”
“You were genetically altered.”
Silence.
“Your DNA today isn't identical to the DNA you had at sixteen.”
I felt dizzy.
“What did they change?”
“Enough to make you invisible to the original archive.”
“And Amelia?”
“She inherited your original genetic sequence.”
I looked at the envelope.
“So the test said she wasn't my daughter because…”
“Because the laboratory compared her to the altered version of you.”
My hands shook.
“But biologically…”
“She is yours.”
I exhaled.
A sob escaped me.
My daughter was mine.
Not a copy.
Not an experiment.
Not a weapon.
Mine.
I reached for her.
She stirred in my arms.
I kissed her forehead.
“I knew.”
My mother cried.
“I know.”
Daniel looked at the envelope.
“There is still something else.”
I turned.
“What?”
“The test didn't only compare you.”
“What else?”
“Amelia's DNA was compared to another sample.”
“Whose?”
He didn't answer.
“Daniel.”
“Your father.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“The laboratory compared Amelia to your father's preserved DNA.”
“And?”
“It's a match.”
I stared.
“How?”
“Your father is her genetic grandfather.”
“That doesn't explain anything.”
Daniel shook his head.
“It does if your father wasn't simply her grandfather.”
My heart stopped.
“What are you saying?”
He looked at Luka.
“Your father was the original donor.”
Luka's face changed.
“To what?”
Daniel whispered:
“To M-17.”
I stared.
“He donated his genetic material to create the original subjects.”
Luka shook his head.
“My uncle said the program began with James Reed.”
Daniel nodded.
“It did.”
“So Hannah…”
“Was the first successful subject.”
“And Amelia?”
“The second.”
Luka looked at my daughter.
“Then she's not merely Hannah's child.”
Daniel nodded.
“She is the genetic continuation of the original program.”
I felt cold.
“That means…”
Daniel finished:
“She can unlock the entire archive.”
I looked at the sealed envelope.
The DNA test nobody was supposed to see.
The test that could prove everything.
My hands closed around it.
“I'm opening it.”
Daniel stood.
“Hannah—”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“I'm done being afraid of paper.”
I tore the envelope open.
Inside was a laboratory report.
Three names.
Hannah Eleanor Reed.
Amelia Eleanor Reed.
Daniel Vance.
Then the results.
I read the first line.
Maternal relationship: Excluded.
My heart stopped.
I read it again.
Then another line.
Paternal relationship: Excluded.
Daniel closed his eyes.
Then I saw the final section.
Genetic ancestry comparison:
Hannah Reed — 0% match to recorded maternal profile.
I stared.
“That's impossible.”
Daniel whispered:
“Keep reading.”
I did.
A second page.
Historical DNA comparison:
Hannah Reed — 99.998% match to preserved sample collected at age sixteen.
I stopped breathing.
Then:
Amelia Reed — 99.998% match to historical maternal profile.
My knees nearly gave out.
The report was saying something impossible.
Amelia was genetically related to me.
Just not to the version of me the modern system recognized.
The final line was highlighted.
Conclusion: Subject Amelia Reed is the biological daughter of Hannah Reed based on historical genetic profile.
I started crying.
Not quietly.
Not gracefully.
I cried the way I had wanted to cry since the moment Daniel walked away.
I held Amelia against my chest.
“She is mine.”
Daniel nodded.
“She is.”
I looked at him.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“And that's why you left.”
“Yes.”
“Because if they knew she was really mine…”
“They would come for her.”
“And they did.”
“Yes.”
I folded the report.
Then something caught my eye.
At the bottom was a second laboratory seal.
Not Briar Glen.
Not Moretti.
Not Hale.
A state laboratory.
I looked at the date.
Three weeks ago.
I stared at Daniel.
“Who ordered this test?”
He looked frightened.
“I did.”
“Who performed it?”
“State Crime Laboratory.”
My mother suddenly stood.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“That laboratory isn't connected to M-17.”
“Then that's good.”
“No.”
Her voice trembled.
“It was created to investigate M-17.”
I stared.
“So the state knows.”
“Yes.”
“Then why haven't they arrested anyone?”
“Because they don't have the evidence.”
I looked at the report.
“Now they do.”
My mother shook her head.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
She pointed at the bottom of the page.
I read the final note.
SOURCE SAMPLE: M-17-ORIGINAL.
I looked up.
“What does that mean?”
My mother whispered:
“The sample came from your father's private archive.”
“So?”
“He died seven years ago.”
“I know.”
She stared at me.
“Then who gave the state laboratory his DNA?”
Silence.
Daniel slowly looked toward the door.
Luka reached for his weapon.
Someone had entered the room.
A man in a gray suit stood in the doorway.
He held a badge.
“Federal investigator.”
Luka raised his gun.
The man lifted his hands.
“I'm not here to hurt anyone.”
I stared at his badge.
“Who are you?”
“Agent Thomas Mercer.”
“What do you want?”
He looked at the DNA report.
“We've been searching for that test for three years.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because it proves the M-17 program still exists.”
I looked at my daughter.
“What happens now?”
Agent Mercer looked directly at me.
“Now we stop treating this as a hospital scandal.”
He paused.
“We treat it as a federal crime.”
For the first time all night, I thought maybe we had a chance.
Then Mercer said something that made my blood freeze.
“Unfortunately, we're already too late.”
“Why?”
He looked at the security monitor.
A single image appeared.
A car leaving the hospital.
Inside it was Marco.
And beside him—
a little girl with dark hair.
My first daughter.
Emma.
Alive.
I stared at the screen.
Then I saw the girl's hand.
She was holding a small white envelope.
On it was a message written in childish handwriting.
Three words.
For my mother.
I covered my mouth.
Daniel whispered:
“She knows.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“She knows who you are.”
I stared at the screen.
My daughter was alive.
She knew me.
She had been waiting for me.
And now Marco was driving her somewhere I couldn't reach.
Agent Mercer turned toward the exit.
“We have to move.”
“Where?”
“To the state laboratory.”
“Why?”
“Because there's one more DNA sample.”
“What sample?”
He looked at me.
“The one nobody has seen.”
My heart stopped.
“Whose?”
Agent Mercer answered:
“Your first daughter's.”
He paused.
“And if the results match what we think they will…”
“What?”
He looked at Amelia.
“We'll finally know why M-17 needed two children instead of one.”
Outside, sirens began to rise in the distance.
I held Amelia tighter.
The DNA test had proven my daughter was mine.
But it had also opened a door I wasn't sure I wanted to walk through.
Because somewhere beyond that door was the truth about Emma.
And if the second DNA test was correct—
May you like
my first daughter wasn't merely the child M-17 had stolen.
She was the child the entire program had been built around.
