Chapter 9: The Original Record
The figure stepped into the room.
It was President Malcolm Harris.
He was older than the man I had seen on university brochures, but his posture was straight and his silver hair perfectly combed.
He wore a black academic robe over an expensive suit.
In one hand, he held a leather folder.
In the other, a white envelope.
He smiled.
“Marcus.””
Arthur moved between us.
“Stay back.””
President Harris stopped.
“Arthur, after all these years, you're still playing the protector.””
Daniel stepped forward.
“You worked with Whitmore.””
Harris smiled faintly.
“I funded his research.””
Rebecca's face hardened.
“You destroyed lives.””
“No,” Harris said calmly.
“I documented them.””
“You sold our records.””
“I monetized information that people willingly provided.””
Rebecca laughed.
“Willingly?””
Harris glanced at me.
“Your mother never understood the value of what she carried.””
I looked at him.
“My DNA.””
“Exactly.””
Arthur's fists clenched.
“What do you want with him?””
Harris lifted the folder.
“Nothing I haven't already had.””
I felt a chill.
“What does that mean?””
Harris opened the folder.
Inside were documents.
Hospital forms.
Blood tests.
Genetic reports.
And a photograph of a newborn baby.
Me.
I stared at it.
“That was taken at the hospital.””
“Yes.””
“Who took it?””
“Whitmore.””
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“I knew it.””
Harris looked at her.
“You suspected.””
“You stole my baby.””
“No.””
His voice remained disturbingly calm.
“You gave him away.””
Arthur's face went white.
Rebecca looked at him.
“What?””
Harris smiled.
“Arthur never told you?””
Arthur stepped forward.
“Don't.””
Harris continued.
“You were desperate to escape Daniel's enemies. You needed someone trustworthy to take Marcus somewhere safe.””
Rebecca stared at Arthur.
“You told me you had no choice.””
Arthur's voice cracked.
“I didn't.””
“You promised me you'd protect him.””
“I did.””
“You told me Marcus would be safe.””
“He was.””
Harris looked at me.
“Was he?””
I couldn't speak.
Harris placed a document on the table.
“This is the original hospital record.””
My eyes moved over the page.
Mother: Rebecca Collins.
Father: *Unknown.*
Then beneath it:
*Temporary guardian: Arthur Reed.*
I stared.
“That's not my birth certificate.””
“No,” Harris said.
“Why was the father listed as unknown?””
Rebecca whispered, “Because we didn't know.””
Harris smiled.
“You didn't know because Whitmore had already altered the genetic records.””
Daniel stepped forward.
“Why?””
Harris looked at him.
“Because if the hospital officially connected Marcus to you, your enemies would have found him.””
Daniel froze.
I looked at him.
“So Whitmore was hiding me?””
“For his own purposes,” Harris said.
“And what purposes were those?””
Harris opened another folder.
A contract.
My name appeared on it.
*PROJECT REED — LONG-TERM GENETIC SUBJECT*
My stomach turned.
“How old was I?””
“Six weeks.””
Rebecca gasped.
“No.””
Harris nodded.
“You were tested repeatedly.””
Arthur lunged forward.
Daniel caught him.
“Don't!””
Arthur fought against him.
“You promised me you destroyed those files!””
Harris smiled.
“I promised you I'd make them disappear.””
Arthur stared at him.
“You lied.””
“Yes.””
I looked at Arthur.
“You knew?””
Arthur's face crumpled.
“I knew they tested you once.””
“Once?””
“I didn't know how many times.””
Harris corrected him.
“Twenty-seven.””
My blood ran cold.
“Twenty-seven?””
“Over eighteen months.””
Rebecca stepped toward Harris.
“What did you do to him?””
“Nothing harmful.””
“That isn't an answer.””
“We studied his genetic development.””
I looked at the photograph of myself as a baby.
“And who paid you?””
Harris's smile disappeared.
“That doesn't matter.””
“It matters to me.””
He looked directly into my eyes.
“The person who funded the project is the reason your mother survived.””
I froze.
“What?””
Rebecca stared at him.
“No.””
“Yes.””
Harris nodded.
“Someone powerful wanted Rebecca alive because she was the only person who knew the complete truth.””
I looked at my mother.
“Who?””
She couldn't answer.
Harris leaned closer.
“Your mother didn't disappear to protect you from Daniel.””
He pointed at Arthur.
“She disappeared because she discovered who Arthur's father was.””
I frowned.
“What?””
Arthur went completely still.
Daniel stared at him.
Rebecca's face turned pale.
Harris smiled.
“That's the secret your father never wanted you to know.””
I looked at Arthur.
“Who is your father?””
Arthur's lips trembled.
He looked at Rebecca.
Then at me.
Finally, he whispered:
“Samuel Whitmore.””
The room went silent.
I stepped backward.
“No.””
Arthur nodded.
“My father was Whitmore.””
Rebecca covered her mouth.
“That means…”
Daniel finished the sentence.
“Marcus wasn't just Whitmore's subject.””
He looked at me.
“He's Whitmore's grandson.””
Harris closed the folder.
“And that's why your DNA was worth protecting.””
I couldn't breathe.
Arthur reached toward me.
“Marcus…”
I stepped away.
“You're his son.””
“Yes.””
“And I'm his grandson.””
“Yes.””
“Then why did he want me?””
Arthur's eyes filled.
“Because your genetic marker is different from his.””
Harris nodded.
“Marcus inherited a combination that Whitmore spent decades trying to reproduce.””
I stared at him.
“What does it do?””
For the first time, Harris looked afraid.
“That's the problem.””
Daniel asked, “What problem?””
Harris turned toward the hidden door.
“He isn't just a subject anymore.””
A noise came from somewhere beneath the building.
A deep mechanical hum.
Rebecca grabbed my hand.
“What is that?””
Harris whispered:
“They've activated the laboratory.””
Arthur looked at me.
“Run.””
The lights snapped back on.
Every screen in the hidden room lit simultaneously.
A live video appeared.
A woman sat in a chair inside a white laboratory.
She was Black.
Older.
Gray-haired.
Terrified.
Rebecca stared at the screen.
“No…”
I looked at her.
“Who is that?””
She started crying.
“That isn't the laboratory.””
Daniel's face went pale.
“Where is it?””
Rebecca looked at me.
Then at Arthur.
Then back at the screen.
“It's beneath the hospital.””
Harris slowly backed toward the door.
And the woman on the screen suddenly looked directly into the camera.
May you like
She mouthed three words.
*Don't trust Arthur.*
