CHAPTER 11 — THE MARRIAGE THAT NEVER EXISTED
CHAPTER 11 — THE MARRIAGE THAT NEVER EXISTED
The message remained on the screen.
COME TO THE HOSPITAL ALONE.
BRING THE BOY.
OR AMELIA DIES.
I read it three times.
Then I looked at Ethan.
"No."
He frowned.
"No what?"
"I'm not going alone."
"You have to."
"No."
I tightened my arms around my son.
"They've lied to me for years. I'm done following their rules."
My mother stepped closer.
"Claire, listen to me."
I turned toward her.
"You've had thirty years to explain."
"I know."
"You lied about my father."
"I know."
"You lied about my childhood."
"I know."
"You took my daughter."
"I was trying to save her."
"And now you want me to trust you?"
She lowered her eyes.
"No."
That answer surprised me.
"I want you to survive me."
I stared.
"What does that mean?"
She looked at Ethan.
"It means the marriage you think you had never existed."
I felt the room tilt.
"What?"
My mother took a folder from her coat.
She placed it on the table.
Across the cover were four words:
CLAIRE BENNETT — MARRIAGE FILE
My hands went cold.
"Open it."
I did.
The first page was our marriage certificate.
I recognized the signatures.
Mine.
Ethan's.
The date.
The church.
Everything.
Then I noticed the stamp.
VOID.
I looked at my mother.
"What is this?"
She turned another page.
A legal document.
MARRIAGE REGISTRATION — REJECTED
Reason:
IDENTITY VERIFICATION FAILURE.
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"You were never legally married to Ethan."
I looked at him.
His face was pale.
"Is that true?"
He didn't answer.
"Ethan."
He whispered:
"Yes."
I stared at him.
"How long have you known?"
"Since before the wedding."
My chest hurt.
"You knew?"
"Yes."
"And you let me believe I was your wife."
"I was trying to protect you."
I laughed bitterly.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
Ethan stepped closer.
"Claire, please."
"No."
I held up the document.
"You weren't my husband."
He closed his eyes.
"No."
"Then what was I?"
He couldn't answer.
My mother did.
"A genetic candidate."
Silence.
I felt as though I'd been stripped of my entire past.
"Candidate for what?"
"The Whitmore program."
I looked at Ethan.
"So the wedding was arranged."
"Yes."
"By your family?"
"Yes."
"By Robert?"
"Partly."
"By Thomas?"
Ethan nodded.
"Yes."
I stepped backward.
"And you agreed."
"I had no choice."
"Everyone has a choice."
He looked at me.
"Not when you're raised inside that family."
I stared at him.
"You could have told me."
"I tried."
"When?"
"Three days before the wedding."
I frowned.
"I don't remember."
"Because your mother intercepted the letter."
I turned toward Elena.
"Did you?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
My voice broke.
"Why?"
"Because you were already being watched."
"And you thought marrying Ethan would protect me?"
"No."
She looked at Ethan.
"I thought marrying him would put you close enough to destroy the program."
I froze.
"You wanted me to destroy them?"
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
"Because if you knew, they would know."
I shook my head.
"This is insane."
My mother opened another document.
"Read this."
I did.
It was an agreement.
Between Elena Bennett and the Whitmore family.
My name was listed.
CLAIRE BENNETT — GENETIC SUBJECT
Beside it:
MARRIAGE TO ETHAN WHITMORE — APPROVED
I stared.
At the bottom was a signature.
My mother's.
And another.
Robert Whitmore.
Then another.
Thomas Whitmore.
I looked up.
"You sold me."
My mother started crying.
"No."
"You signed this."
"To keep you alive."
"You sold me!"
"I had no other way."
"There is always another way!"
My voice echoed through the room.
My son began crying.
I immediately held him tighter.
"I'm sorry."
I kissed his forehead.
"I'm sorry, baby."
Then I looked at Ethan.
"Did you ever love me?"
His eyes filled with tears.
"Yes."
"Before or after the program?"
"Before."
"How?"
"I don't know."
"You knew the marriage wasn't real."
"Yes."
"You knew they were using me."
"Yes."
"You knew they wanted my children."
"Yes."
"And you still slept beside me."
His face crumbled.
"I wanted to get you out."
"But you didn't."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because every time I tried, they threatened you."
I stared at him.
"Then why didn't you run with me?"
He whispered:
"Because they had someone I loved."
"Who?"
He looked at my mother.
I froze.
"What?"
Ethan continued:
"Your mother wasn't the only person they held."
My mother looked away.
"Who?"
Ethan said:
"Daniel."
My heart stopped.
"Daniel?"
"He was their prisoner."
"All this time?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"Because Daniel was working undercover."
I stared.
"Working for whom?"
"The same people who took Amelia."
My blood ran cold.
"What?"
Ethan nodded.
"Daniel wasn't helping Thomas."
"He was pretending."
"Yes."
"Then where is he?"
"I don't know."
My mother whispered:
"He went to find your daughter."
I turned.
"Where?"
"The hospital."
I froze.
"The old hospital?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
I looked at Ethan.
"We're going."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because that's a trap."
"Everything is a trap."
He stepped closer.
"Claire."
I looked at him.
"I don't care."
He stopped.
"I am not losing another child."
We reached the old hospital twenty minutes later.
The building had been abandoned for years.
Broken windows.
Rusting signs.
Weeds growing through concrete.
But lights were visible on the third floor.
Someone was inside.
My mother stayed in the car.
Ethan and I entered through the side door.
The corridor smelled of mold and antiseptic.
Every step echoed.
Then I saw the sign.
MATERNITY — LEVEL 3
My heart tightened.
"This is where I gave birth."
Ethan nodded.
"Yes."
"Three years ago?"
"Yes."
"Why was I brought here?"
"You weren't."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"The hospital you remember wasn't this one."
"Then why does it look familiar?"
"Because this is the original facility."
My stomach turned.
"What facility?"
"The place where the program began."
We climbed the stairs.
At the end of the hallway was Room 17.
The door was open.
Inside was a crib.
Empty.
A photograph sat on the mattress.
Amelia.
I grabbed it.
On the back was a message.
SHE REMEMBERS YOU.
I started crying.
"Where is she?"
A speaker crackled.
Thomas's voice.
"Right behind you."
I turned.
Nothing.
Then the lights came on.
Screens covered the walls.
Every screen showed Amelia.
Different ages.
Different rooms.
Different hospitals.
Different clothes.
My daughter had been monitored since birth.
I looked at Ethan.
"How long?"
He whispered:
"Since the day she was born."
I looked at the screens.
Then one image stopped me.
Amelia was a newborn.
A nurse held her.
Beside the nurse stood my mother.
And beside my mother—
Daniel.
I stared.
"Why was Daniel there?"
Ethan didn't answer.
Another screen activated.
A document appeared.
PATERNITY REASSIGNMENT
I read the first line.
CHILD A — CLAIRE BENNETT / ETHAN WHITMORE
BIOLOGICAL FATHER: UNKNOWN
My hands shook.
Then:
CHILD B — CLAIRE BENNETT / MICHAEL BENNETT
BIOLOGICAL FATHER: CONFIRMED
I stared.
My son was Michael's.
Then the final line appeared.
CHILD C — CLAIRE BENNETT / UNKNOWN
I couldn't breathe.
"Child C?"
Ethan looked at me.
"There was another pregnancy."
"What?"
"Before Amelia."
I shook my head.
"No."
"You don't remember because they erased it."
My mother appeared on the screen.
She looked younger.
Pregnant.
And beside her stood Thomas.
I watched the recording.
Thomas said:
"Your daughter will produce three viable embryos."
My mother's younger face was terrified.
"No."
"Three."
"I won't let you."
"You don't have a choice."
Then the screen changed.
A newborn cried.
Another.
Then another.
Three babies.
My knees weakened.
I held onto Ethan.
Three children.
Not two.
Three.
I had given birth to three babies.
And I had been told only one survived.
A voice came through the speaker.
Thomas.
"The Whitmores never wanted your marriage."
The screen showed my wedding.
"The marriage was merely the mechanism."
I watched myself walking toward Ethan.
Smiling.
Believing I was safe.
Thomas continued:
"We needed your bloodline."
Then another document appeared.
MARRIAGE CONTRACT — GENETIC PROGRAM
I stared.
The wedding had been part of an experiment.
Not a family.
Not love.
A breeding program.
I felt sick.
Then Ethan stepped toward me.
"Claire."
I turned.
He looked broken.
"I didn't know about the third child."
"You knew about two."
"Yes."
"And you knew the marriage wasn't real."
"Yes."
"You knew they were using me."
"Yes."
I looked at him.
"Then you were never my husband."
He closed his eyes.
"No."
"What were you?"
He looked at me.
"Your protector."
I laughed through my tears.
"You failed."
"I know."
Suddenly—
the lights went out.
A door slammed.
I heard footsteps.
Someone grabbed Ethan.
He shouted.
I turned.
A needle entered his neck.
He collapsed.
"Ethan!"
Two men dragged him away.
I ran after them.
But a steel door slammed between us.
I pounded on it.
"Ethan!"
Silence.
Then Thomas's voice.
"Now you understand."
I turned toward the speaker.
"What?"
"Your marriage never existed."
"Where is my husband?"
Thomas laughed.
"You never had one."
I looked at the locked door.
Then at the screen.
A final image appeared.
My three newborn children.
Three photographs.
Three names.
SUBJECT 15 — FEMALE
SUBJECT 16 — MALE
SUBJECT 17 — FEMALE
My heart stopped.
Subject 17.
The girl from the basement.
The child I had thought was someone else's.
My daughter.
Then another line appeared.
SUBJECT 16 — CURRENT LOCATION: WITH MOTHER
I stared.
My son.
The child Thomas wanted.
Then:
SUBJECT 15 — CURRENT LOCATION: WHITMORE FACILITY
And finally:
SUBJECT 17 — CURRENT LOCATION: WITH MOTHER
I froze.
"With Mother?"
The speaker crackled.
Thomas whispered:
"Now ask yourself the real question."
"What?"
"Which mother?"
The screen went black.
Then a door opened behind me.
I turned.
My mother stood there.
She was holding Amelia.
My daughter was alive.
But my mother's face was covered in tears.
"Claire."
I ran toward them.
"Amelia!"
I grabbed my daughter.
She wrapped her tiny arms around my neck.
"Mommy."
I sobbed.
"You're safe."
My mother stepped backward.
I looked at her.
"You took her."
"I saved her."
"You lied."
"I had to."
"No."
I held Amelia tighter.
"Not anymore."
My mother looked at the child.
Then whispered:
"There's something you need to know."
"What?"
She looked toward the hallway.
"Your marriage was never real."
I laughed bitterly.
"I know."
"No."
Her voice trembled.
"You don't understand."
She looked at Ethan's empty doorway.
"Ethan wasn't assigned to you because of your genetics."
I frowned.
"Then why?"
"Because he was the only man who could produce the child they wanted."
My blood froze.
"What child?"
My mother looked at my son.
"The boy."
"The son they wanted."
She nodded.
Then whispered:
"Your son wasn't conceived for Ethan."
I stared.
"He was conceived for Thomas."
Silence.
I felt my entire world collapse.
Then my mother said:
"And Ethan knew."
The door behind us slammed shut.
May you like
We were trapped.
And somewhere in the hospital, Ethan screamed my name.
