Chapter 4 — The Father Who Lied to Me
Chapter 4 — The Father Who Lied to Me
The first lie my father ever told me was that he loved me.
I didn't understand that until I found the second letter.
The archive room was still dark when Margaret pulled open the emergency cabinet.
"There's another exit," she whispered.
Luka was standing at the door, listening for footsteps.
I held my daughter against my chest.
My hands were shaking.
Not because of Gabriel.
Not because of Ethan.
Because of one sentence that wouldn't leave my mind.
Your father ordered him to sign the birth certificate.
My father had been dead for six years.
Yet somehow, he had planned for my daughter to be protected before she was even born.
That meant he had known about Ethan.
He had known about M-17.
And possibly...
He had known exactly how my marriage would end.
I followed Margaret through the emergency passage.
"Luka."
He didn't turn.
"Not now."
"You're going to tell me everything."
"I will."
"Now."
He stopped.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he looked at me.
"Your father didn't trust Ethan."
"Why?"
"Because Ethan wasn't who he said he was."
I felt a familiar ache in my chest.
"Who is he?"
"We don't know yet."
"You said my father knew."
"He did."
"Then why didn't he tell me?"
Luka's eyes softened.
"Because he thought telling you would get you killed."
I shook my head.
"That's what everyone says."
"What?"
"Everyone says my father was protecting me."
I looked at Margaret.
"He lied to me for my entire childhood."
Then at Luka.
"You lied to me."
He didn't deny it.
"And now you're both telling me it was for my own good."
I laughed bitterly.
"I'm beginning to hate those words."
We reached an abandoned records office on the other side of the hospital.
Margaret locked the door.
Then she took out a small brass key.
"There is something you need to see."
She walked to an old filing cabinet.
Third drawer.
Bottom compartment.
She unlocked it.
Inside was a brown leather box.
My heart began beating faster.
"What is that?"
"Your father's."
She handed it to me.
I recognized the initials immediately.
C.C.
Charles Carter.
My father.
My fingers trembled as I opened the lid.
Inside was a photograph.
My father.
My mother.
And two babies.
I stared.
One baby was me.
The other was my sister.
I could tell immediately.
Not because of the photograph.
Because of the bracelet.
My father had given me the same bracelet when I was seven.
A tiny silver charm shaped like a star.
I touched my wrist.
"She had one too."
Margaret nodded.
"Your father gave each of you one."
I swallowed.
"Where is she?"
Margaret's eyes dropped.
"We don't know."
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"You worked for my father."
"Yes."
"You knew everything."
"No."
"Then tell me what you do know."
Margaret took a breath.
"Your sister's name was Amelia."
The name struck me like a physical blow.
"Amelia."
I repeated it.
Amelia.
My sister.
A person.
Not a subject.
Not a number.
Not a failed experiment.
A girl who had once been held by my mother.
"Why did Dad tell me she died?"
"Because Gabriel took her."
"When?"
"Three days after you were born."
"Why?"
"Because your father refused to continue the research."
I stared at her.
"What happened to Amelia?"
"We don't know."
"That's not good enough."
"I know."
"How long did he search?"
"Until the day he died."
I closed my eyes.
"Then why did he tell me she was dead?"
Margaret's voice softened.
"Because Gabriel threatened to take you too."
I looked at her.
"What did he threaten?"
"He showed your father a photograph."
"What photograph?"
"One of you."
My blood turned cold.
"What kind?"
"Sleeping."
My stomach tightened.
"Where?"
"At your school."
I felt sick.
"He was watching me?"
"For years."
I sat on the floor.
My daughter slept against me.
I couldn't stop thinking about my childhood.
Every birthday.
Every school recital.
Every first day of school.
My father always waited outside.
I had thought it was love.
Maybe it had been fear.
I remembered one winter when I was nine.
A black car had followed us home.
My father had driven past our house and gone straight to a police station.
I had asked him why.
He said:
"Sometimes you need to make sure people know where you are."
I thought he was being dramatic.
Now I understood.
He hadn't been paranoid.
He had been hunted.
Margaret sat beside me.
"There's more."
I looked at her.
She pulled another envelope from the box.
This one was sealed.
My name was written across it.
For Elena, if Charles dies before he can explain.
My heart stopped.
I opened it.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
My father's.
Elena,
If you're reading this, then I failed to keep the past away from you.
You will probably hate me.
You should.
I lied because I believed a lie was safer than the truth.
I was wrong.
My vision blurred.
I kept reading.
Your mother did not abandon you.
She did not die because of illness.
She died because she refused to tell Gabriel where you were.
Your sister did not die at birth.
I told you she did because Gabriel needed to believe you were the only surviving child.
And there is one more truth I never told you.
You were never supposed to marry Ethan.
I stopped.
The room disappeared.
I read the sentence again.
Then again.
My father had known Ethan.
Before I met him.
I looked at Luka.
"Did he know my husband?"
Luka nodded.
"Yes."
"How?"
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"Then why did he say I wasn't supposed to marry Ethan?"
Luka looked at Margaret.
She looked away.
I stood.
"Both of you know."
Silence.
"Tell me."
Margaret whispered:
"Ethan was sent to you."
My heart stopped.
"By whom?"
"Gabriel."
I couldn't feel my hands.
"You mean Ethan married me because Gabriel told him to?"
Margaret shook her head.
"Not exactly."
"Then explain."
"Ethan was assigned to watch you."
"Watch me?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"Since you were eighteen."
I stared.
My entire relationship had been a surveillance operation.
The dates.
The flowers.
The proposal.
The wedding.
The baby.
Was any of it real?
I remembered Ethan kneeling in front of me on our third anniversary.
He had held my hands and said:
"I choose you."
I had believed him.
Now I wondered whether he had been choosing a target.
I looked at Luka.
"Did my father know I was going to marry him?"
"Yes."
"Then why didn't he stop me?"
"He tried."
"No."
My voice rose.
"He didn't."
"He warned you."
"He could have told me the truth."
"He was afraid."
"So was I."
I hugged my daughter tighter.
"Everyone was afraid except me."
Luka looked at me.
"That's not true."
"What?"
"You were afraid."
I stared at him.
He stepped closer.
"You were just never given enough information to understand what you were afraid of."
That hurt more than it should have.
Because it was true.
The next morning, I returned to my father's old house.
Luka didn't want me to go.
I insisted.
It was the only place left that still belonged to the man I remembered.
The house stood at the end of a quiet street.
The garden was overgrown.
The mailbox leaned sideways.
The porch light was broken.
For six years, I hadn't had the courage to enter.
Now I walked through the front door carrying my newborn daughter.
Everything smelled the same.
Wood.
Coffee.
Old books.
My father.
I stood in the hallway and cried.
Luka stayed behind me.
"You don't have to do this."
"Yes."
I walked into the study.
His desk was still there.
The same chair.
The same brass lamp.
The same locked drawer.
I remembered that drawer.
I had asked about it once when I was thirteen.
Dad had said:
"Nothing in there is for you."
I pulled it open.
Unlocked.
Inside was a single key.
And a note.
Basement. Third wall.
Luka read it.
"Your father expected you to find this."
"Apparently."
We went downstairs.
The basement was dark.
Luka turned on the flashlight.
I counted the walls.
One.
Two.
Three.
There was nothing.
Then I noticed a slight difference in the paint.
A rectangle.
Luka pressed it.
The wall opened.
Behind it was a room.
Not storage.
A laboratory.
My breath caught.
Shelves lined the walls.
Old medical equipment.
Computer terminals.
Boxes of files.
Photographs.
Blood samples.
And at the center of the room...
A hospital incubator.
I stepped closer.
A tiny bracelet lay beside it.
Silver.
Star-shaped.
My sister's.
I touched it.
Then I saw the screen.
There was one file open.
M-17 — SUBJECT ZERO
My name.
Under it:
GENETIC SEQUENCE STABLE.
Then another line.
SUBJECT ZERO HAS PRODUCED VIABLE OFFSPRING.
My heart stopped.
I looked at Luka.
"How could my father know my daughter would have this sequence?"
Luka stared at the screen.
"He couldn't."
"Then who entered this?"
He stepped closer.
The timestamp appeared beneath the file.
Today.
My blood turned cold.
Someone had accessed my father's hidden laboratory after his death.
Recently.
Maybe today.
Maybe hours ago.
Luka looked toward the door.
"We need to leave."
"Why?"
"Because we're not alone."
A sound came from upstairs.
A floorboard creaked.
Then another.
Someone was walking through my father's house.
Luka switched off the light.
I held my daughter close.
We listened.
Footsteps stopped above us.
Then a man's voice called from the hallway.
"Elena?"
I knew that voice.
Ethan.
Again.
But this time he wasn't alone.
A woman's voice followed.
"She must be downstairs."
Victoria.
His mistress.
The woman who had walked out of the hospital with him.
I looked at Luka.
He silently pointed toward a second door.
We moved.
Then Ethan's voice came from above.
"Elena, I know you're here."
I held my breath.
Victoria laughed softly.
"She has nowhere else to go."
Something inside me snapped.
I wasn't helpless.
Not anymore.
I looked at the laboratory.
Then at the hidden files.
Then at my daughter.
My father had spent years trying to protect me.
Maybe he had failed.
But he had left me something else.
The truth.
I turned to Luka.
"Can we lock them in?"
He stared at me.
"What?"
"The laboratory."
A slow smile appeared on his face.
"Now you're thinking like your father."
We waited.
Ethan descended the stairs first.
Victoria followed.
They entered the laboratory.
Ethan looked around.
Then his eyes landed on me.
"Elena."
I stood beside the door.
My daughter in my arms.
"Hello, Ethan."
He took a step forward.
"Please."
"Don't."
He stopped.
Victoria looked at Luka.
Her expression changed.
"You."
Luka smiled coldly.
"Me."
She stepped backward.
Ethan looked between us.
"You don't understand."
"I understand enough."
"You need to come with me."
"Why?"
"Because you're in danger."
I laughed.
"From you?"
"No."
He looked at the baby.
"From them."
"Who?"
He swallowed.
"Gabriel."
Luka stepped forward.
"You work for him."
Ethan's face tightened.
"I did."
"Past tense?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Ethan looked at me.
"Because I didn't know what he planned."
"Then tell me."
He hesitated.
Victoria suddenly screamed.
A metallic door slammed shut behind her.
She spun around.
"What did you do?"
Luka locked the laboratory door.
Ethan stared at him.
"Open it."
"No."
"You're insane."
"Maybe."
I stepped closer.
"You have ten minutes."
"For what?"
"To tell me the truth."
Ethan stared at me.
"What if I don't?"
I looked at the security monitor.
The police were already approaching the house.
I had called them before we entered.
Ethan saw the screen.
His face collapsed.
"You called the police?"
"Yes."
Victoria rushed toward the door.
"You can't do this!"
I looked at her.
"You came into my father's house."
She stopped.
I held my daughter closer.
"And you came looking for something."
Victoria's eyes narrowed.
"What?"
I pointed toward the computer.
"The M-17 file."
She went pale.
Ethan whispered:
"Elena, don't open that."
"Why?"
"Because once you do, there is no going back."
I looked at the screen.
Then at my father's handwriting on the desk.
Then at my daughter.
"There was never a way back."
I opened the file.
A video began playing.
My father's face appeared on the screen.
Older.
Tired.
Alive.
My knees nearly gave out.
He looked directly into the camera.
"Elena."
I stopped breathing.
"If you're seeing this, then the people I feared have finally found you."
His eyes filled with tears.
"I'm sorry."
He paused.
Then whispered the sentence that destroyed the last certainty I had about my childhood.
"Your mother is alive."
May you like
The video went black.
And behind me, Ethan began to cry.
