Not with surprise. Not with confusion. With recognition. The kind that only comes from years of waiting. Her lips trembled. “Claire…” My knees felt weak. Every instinct told me to run toward her. Every lesson Nathan Cross had ever taught me screamed the opposite. Never trust the obvious. Never trust emotion during an operation. Never assume the first truth is the complete truth. Harold Bennett slowly stepped in front of me. His ninety-three-year-old body barely reached Arthur’s shoulder. Yet somehow… Arthur looked like the one who had lost ground. “You shouldn’t have come here.” Arthur smiled politely. “I’ve spent forty years looking.” “I wasn’t going to stop now.” Harold tightened his grip on his walking stick. “You’ve already taken enough.” Arthur looked around the sanctuary. Children peeked nervously from behind cottages.
Teachers quietly guided the youngest ones toward underground shelters. No one screamed. No one panicked. They had rehearsed this. Arthur nodded with genuine admiration. “You’ve kept it beautiful.” Harold answered softly. “I kept it human.” Arthur laughed once. “Always the idealist.” Then his eyes returned to me. “Claire.” The sound of my name in his voice felt wrong. Like hearing a stranger recite childhood memories. “I’ve answered enough of your questions.” “Now answer one of mine.” I didn’t respond. He continued. “Do you know why every operation you’ve ever led succeeded?” Cross quietly whispered, “Don’t.” Arthur ignored him.
“Do you know why bullets always seemed to miss you?” “Why intelligence always arrived just in time?” “Why every evaluation called you exceptional?” I kept my weapon aimed at his chest. “I worked hard.” Arthur smiled. “You certainly did.” “But that isn’t why.” He slowly reached inside his coat. Cross immediately raised his pistol. “Don’t.” Arthur stopped. “I’m not reaching for a weapon.” He removed a thin folder. Old. Weathered. Bound with faded blue string. He held it toward me. “Your original file.” Harold’s expression darkened instantly. “No.” Arthur looked at him. “She deserves to know.” “Not from you.” “Then from whom?” Silence. Harold couldn’t answer. Arthur carefully placed the folder on a nearby stone bench. “I’m leaving it there.” He stepped back. “No tricks.” “No explosives.” “No poison.” “Simply…” “…the beginning.” I looked at Harold. He closed his eyes for a long moment. When he finally opened them…
He nodded once.
“Read it.”
I lowered my pistol.
Slowly approached the bench.
Untied the faded string.
Inside lay dozens of documents.
Medical reports.
Photographs.
Handwritten notes.
Then…
The first page.
Across the top, in bold black letters:
PROJECT LEGACY
Below that…
SUBJECT 001
Subject.
Not patient.
Not child.
Subject.
My hands trembled.
Cross moved beside me.
“I’ve never seen this.”
Neither had Harold.
His face told me that much.
The second page contained a photograph.
A hospital room.
A newborn wrapped in a blue blanket.
A nurse smiling toward the camera.
The date…
Matched neither my birth certificate…
Nor Harold’s letter.
Three different birthdays.
Three different identities.
Three different lives.
I turned another page.
This one contained DNA analysis.
One name had been blacked out.
The second…
Had not.
My eyes widened.
Nathan noticed first.
“What is it?”
I couldn’t speak.
Cross gently took the page.
His own face froze.
“No…”
Arthur folded his arms.
“Now you understand.”
Harold stepped closer.
“What does it say?”
Cross slowly looked toward him.
Then toward Arthur.
Finally…
Toward me.
His voice barely carried.
“Claire…”
“…Arthur isn’t your father.”
Relief flooded through me—
For exactly one second.
Cross continued.
“But…”
“…Harold isn’t lying either.”
I frowned.
“What?”
Cross swallowed.
“The DNA…”
He looked down again, as if hoping the words would somehow change.
“It matches…”
He couldn’t finish.
Harold gently took the paper from his shaking hands.
The old man’s face lost all color.
“No…”
Arthur’s smile disappeared.
For the first time…
He looked uncertain.
Harold whispered,
“That isn’t possible.”
I grabbed the report.
Forced myself to read the highlighted line.
Genetic Relationship Confirmed: 99.9987%
I followed the arrow beside it.
It pointed to a name.
One I had heard hundreds of times.
One I trusted more than almost anyone alive.
NATHAN CROSS
The world stopped.
I slowly turned toward him.
He hadn’t moved.
His breathing had become shallow.
His eyes filled with absolute disbelief.
I whispered,
“Nathan…”
He shook his head immediately.
“No.”
“I’ve never…”
“This can’t…”
He looked as though every memory he possessed had shattered at once.
“I don’t remember…”
Harold took one slow step backward.
Arthur quietly spoke.
“I warned you.”
“No,” Harold replied.
“I destroyed those records.”
Arthur nodded.
“You destroyed the copies.”
His gaze settled on Nathan.
“But not the originals.”
Nathan stared at the DNA report.
His hands began shaking uncontrollably.
“I was twelve…”
He whispered the words to himself.
“Twelve years old…”
Harold closed his eyes.
“My God…”
Arthur finished the sentence.
“They started earlier than we ever imagined.”
Nathan looked up, completely lost.
“I don’t understand.”
Arthur’s expression turned cold.
“You were never just a student, Nathan.”
“You were their first successful experiment.”
The valley fell silent.
Even the wind seemed to stop.
Then…
A small voice echoed from one of the cottages.
“Mommy?”
Everyone turned.
A little girl stepped cautiously onto the path.
Dark hair.
Stuffed rabbit.
Bright blue eyes.
Lily.
She looked past everyone.
Past Arthur.
Past Harold.
Straight at the silver-haired woman.
Then smiled.
“Grandma?”
The woman collapsed to her knees in tears.
Harold’s face changed from shock…
To horror.
Because only one person could have taught Lily that word.
Someone…
Who had been alive long enough to know the truth.
END OF PART 25
