Chapter 10 - The Father Who Died Fifteen Years Ago
# Chapter 10 - The Father Who Died Fifteen Years Ago
The message on Victoria Vance's phone contained a photograph of a dead man.
Her father.
Professor Edward Whitmore.
The man she had buried fifteen years earlier.
The man whose funeral she remembered with painful clarity.
And beneath his photograph was a message that made her blood turn cold.
Victoria, I know what Charles told you.
I know what happened to your children.
And I know why you cannot remember what I did to you.
Victoria stared at the screen.
For several seconds, the hospital corridor seemed to disappear around her.
She could hear the rain against the windows.
The distant movement of medical carts.
The quiet voices of nurses beginning their morning shifts.
But none of it seemed real.
Her father was dead.
She had watched his coffin disappear beneath the earth.
She had stood beside Charles while the priest offered prayers.
She had placed a single white rose on the grave.
And afterward, Charles had held her while she cried.
"No," she whispered.
Her phone vibrated again.
Come to Whitmore House before noon.
Come alone.
Victoria's hands began trembling.
Then another message appeared.
If Charles reaches me first, you will never learn why Thomas was given to you.
Victoria closed her eyes.
For nine years, she had believed the greatest tragedy of her life was losing her first child.
Now she was beginning to suspect that the tragedy had started long before she became a mother.
Detective Elena Brooks examined the photograph without speaking.
Victoria stood beside her, barely able to remain still.
"That's my father," Victoria said.
Elena enlarged the image.
"Are you certain?"
Victoria looked at her sharply.
"I know my father's face."
"I'm not questioning that. I'm asking whether the photograph could have been manipulated."
Victoria swallowed.
"I don't know."
Elena studied the background.
The elderly man sat in a wheelchair beside a tall window. Behind him stood an antique grandfather clock and a carved wooden bookshelf.
Victoria recognized both.
Her childhood home.
Whitmore House.
"That room," she whispered.
Elena looked up.
"What?"
"It's my father's study."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
Victoria pointed toward the clock.
"My mother bought that for his fiftieth birthday."
Elena leaned closer.
"And the bookshelf?"
"He built it himself."
The detective's expression hardened.
"Then we need to verify whether the photograph was taken recently."
Victoria shook her head.
"He's alive."
"We don't know that yet."
"Elena, I know that room."
"The room may still exist. That doesn't establish when the photograph was taken."
Victoria looked away.
She knew the detective was being reasonable.
But reason had become almost unbearable.
Every time she thought she understood what was happening, another piece of her life turned out to be false.
Her marriage.
Her pregnancies.
Her children's identities.
And now her father's death.
Elena placed a hand on the table.
"Victoria, whoever sent this wants you to go somewhere alone."
"Yes."
"That makes it dangerous."
Victoria looked toward Noah's hospital room.
Thomas was still sleeping beside him.
She lowered her voice.
"If my father is alive, he may know where Daniel is."
"We're searching for Daniel."
"And Emily?"
"We're pursuing leads."
"And the other children?"
Elena hesitated.
Victoria stared at her.
"You don't know."
"Not yet."
Victoria looked back at the photograph.
"Then I have to go."
Elena shook her head.
"Not alone."
At 6:42 a.m., Rebecca Reed received a call from Daniel Mercer.
She answered immediately.
"Daniel?"
"Where are you?"
Rebecca glanced toward the sleeping boy beside her.
"Somewhere safe for the moment."
"Is the child with you?"
"Yes."
"Is he hurt?"
"He's exhausted, but he can walk. Evelyn helped him escape."
Daniel exhaled.
"Thank God."
Rebecca hesitated.
"Daniel, I opened the final protocol."
Silence.
Then:
"What did you find?"
"Victoria was Subject Zero."
"I suspected that."
"No. You don't understand."
Rebecca looked toward the laptop.
"The program wasn't simply monitoring her medical condition."
"What was it doing?"
"Studying her responses to controlled emotional events."
Daniel went silent.
Rebecca continued.
"Her marriage. Her pregnancies. Thomas being placed in her care. Someone was recording all of it."
"Charles?"
"Yes. But I don't think he was acting alone."
Daniel's voice hardened.
"Who else?"
Rebecca swallowed.
"Edward Whitmore."
A long silence followed.
Then Daniel said:
"Victoria's father?"
"Yes."
"He's dead."
Rebecca looked at the photograph on her screen.
"I don't think so."
She heard Daniel move.
"What?"
"Someone sent me a picture of him."
"Rebecca—"
"He's alive."
Daniel said nothing.
Rebecca continued.
"And whoever sent it wants Victoria brought to Whitmore House."
Daniel exhaled sharply.
"Don't do it."
"Why?"
"Because we don't know who controls that property."
"Charles owns it."
"Exactly."
Rebecca looked toward the boy.
He had awakened.
He was watching her quietly.
She lowered her voice.
"Daniel, there's something else."
"What?"
"The child with me may not be Victoria's biological son."
Silence.
"What do you mean?"
"I received a laboratory report."
"From whom?"
"Unknown."
"Then don't trust it."
Rebecca closed her eyes.
"I know."
Daniel's voice sharpened.
"Rebecca, you cannot keep making decisions based on anonymous messages."
She flinched.
He continued.
"That's how Charles controls people. He gives them just enough information to make them act."
Rebecca looked toward the laptop.
Project Gemini.
Phase Four.
Disclosure Response.
The date.
Today.
She felt a cold sensation spread through her chest.
"Daniel," she whispered, "what if we're doing exactly what the program wants?"
At the Vance estate, Catherine Bell stood beside Charles's desk.
The pistol remained in her hand, but her grip had loosened.
Charles was staring at his computer.
On the screen was an old photograph of Professor Edward Whitmore.
Catherine studied the man's face.
"He's alive?"
Charles did not answer.
"Charles."
He looked up.
"Yes."
Catherine felt sick.
"Victoria thinks he's dead."
"I know."
"Why?"
Charles leaned back.
"Because Edward wanted her to believe it."
Catherine stared at him.
"Her own father?"
"Yes."
"Why would he do that?"
Charles looked toward the window.
"Because he believed emotional attachment interfered with the research."
Catherine shook her head.
"That doesn't make sense."
"It made sense to him."
She stepped closer.
"Did you help him fake his death?"
Charles hesitated.
Then nodded.
Catherine felt anger rise through her exhaustion.
"You stood beside Victoria at his funeral."
"Yes."
"You watched her grieve."
Charles said nothing.
"You held her while she cried."
His expression tightened.
"Catherine—"
"And you knew he was alive."
Charles looked away.
Catherine laughed bitterly.
"How many times did you tell her she was imagining things?"
He did not answer.
"How many memories did you convince her were wrong?"
Charles's voice hardened.
"You don't understand what Edward was trying to accomplish."
"Then explain it."
He stood.
"Edward believed certain neurological responses could be modified through carefully controlled experiences."
Catherine stared at him.
"Experiences?"
"Loss. Attachment. Fear. Recovery."
Her stomach twisted.
"You mean trauma."
Charles said nothing.
Catherine stepped backward.
"Oh, my God."
She looked toward the photograph.
"Victoria wasn't your patient."
Charles remained silent.
"She was your experiment."
He closed his eyes.
Catherine's voice broke.
"And Thomas?"
Charles looked at her.
"Thomas was part of the final phase."
Catherine stared at him.
"What final phase?"
Charles hesitated.
"The point at which Victoria would discover that the child she raised wasn't biologically hers."
Catherine felt physically ill.
"You planned to destroy her relationship with Thomas."
"No."
"You planned to see what happened when she believed she'd lost another child!"
Charles's face hardened.
"That wasn't my intention."
"Then whose?"
He looked toward the screen.
And Catherine understood.
"Edward."
Charles nodded.
At Facility Seven, Emily sat across from Dr. Adrian Mercer.
The physician had finally agreed to unlock the room.
But he had warned her that the building's security system was controlled remotely.
They had only minutes before someone noticed.
Emily stood beside the door.
"Where are we going?"
"Records storage."
"Why?"
"Because I need to show you something."
They moved quickly through a narrow corridor.
Adrian swiped his access card at a reinforced door.
The lock clicked.
Inside were rows of metal cabinets.
He opened one.
Emily stared at the files.
Hundreds of folders.
Each marked with a number.
Adrian removed a thick binder.
PROJECT EVE — ORIGINAL SUBJECT RECORDS.
Emily frowned.
"Why are you showing me this?"
Adrian placed it on the table.
"Because the program didn't begin with the children."
He opened the binder.
A photograph appeared.
A teenage girl.
Dark hair.
Bright eyes.
Victoria Whitmore.
Emily leaned closer.
"That's Mrs. Vance."
Adrian nodded.
"She was seventeen."
Emily studied the image.
"What happened to her?"
Adrian turned the page.
"Her father enrolled her in a study."
"Did she know?"
"Not everything."
Emily looked up.
"What did they do?"
Adrian hesitated.
"They monitored her responses to different treatments and psychological stressors."
Emily's face hardened.
"Like they did to us."
"Yes."
She looked back at the photograph.
"Did it hurt her?"
Adrian closed his eyes.
"More than anyone admitted."
Emily turned another page.
A second photograph appeared.
Victoria lying in a hospital bed.
She looked pale and frightened.
A date was printed beneath the image.
Fifteen years earlier.
Emily stared at it.
"Was this before her father died?"
Adrian nodded.
"Yes."
"What happened?"
Adrian's voice dropped.
"She discovered part of the research."
Emily looked up.
"And?"
"She tried to leave."
The girl felt a chill.
"Did they stop her?"
Adrian nodded.
"Yes."
Emily stared at the photograph.
Then she noticed something.
A young man stood beside Victoria's bed.
Tall.
Dark-haired.
Wearing a white laboratory coat.
Charles Vance.
But he looked much younger.
Emily frowned.
"Charles was there?"
Adrian nodded.
"He was Edward's assistant."
Emily felt sick.
"Before they were married?"
"Years before."
She looked back at the photograph.
"Did Victoria know him?"
Adrian hesitated.
Then whispered:
"She knew him very well."
At 7:18 a.m., Victoria received another message.
This one contained a short video.
She opened it.
An elderly man appeared on the screen.
Professor Edward Whitmore.
He sat in the same wheelchair shown in the photograph.
His face was deeply lined.
His hands trembled slightly.
But his voice was unmistakable.
"Victoria."
She stopped breathing.
"My darling girl."
Tears filled her eyes.
"Papa?"
The recording continued.
"If you're watching this, then Charles has lost control of the situation."
Victoria gripped the phone.
Edward looked directly into the camera.
"I know you believe I died fifteen years ago."
He paused.
"I'm sorry."
Victoria began crying.
"I allowed you to believe that because I thought it was necessary."
His voice weakened.
"There are things about your past that Charles has never told you."
Victoria pressed a hand against her mouth.
Edward continued.
"And there are things I did that I can never forgive myself for."
A long silence followed.
Then he leaned closer.
"Victoria, you must come to Whitmore House."
She shook her head.
"No..."
"Not for me."
His expression changed.
"For your children."
Victoria froze.
Edward continued.
"Charles believes the final phase has begun."
He looked toward someone outside the camera's view.
Then back at the lens.
"But he doesn't understand that I changed the protocol."
Victoria felt a chill.
"What?"
Edward's voice dropped.
"The children were never the intended subjects."
He paused.
"They were the key."
The video ended.
Victoria stared at the blank screen.
Then she looked toward Detective Brooks.
"He's alive."
Elena had watched the recording beside her.
Her expression was grim.
"We need to verify the footage, but it appears consistent with the photograph."
Victoria wiped her tears.
"He wants me to come."
"I know."
"Then I'm going."
Elena shook her head.
"Not without protection."
Victoria looked toward Thomas.
Her son was sitting beside Noah, drawing quietly.
She thought of Daniel.
Emily.
Rebecca.
Catherine.
And the father who had allowed her to mourn him for fifteen years.
Then she made a decision.
"Fine."
Elena looked up.
"What?"
"I'll cooperate with the police."
The detective nodded.
"Good."
Victoria's expression hardened.
"But I want to be there when you confront him."
At 7:46 a.m., Charles received a call from an unfamiliar number.
He answered cautiously.
"Hello?"
A familiar voice spoke.
"Charles."
His face drained.
"Edward?"
"Good morning."
Charles stood abruptly.
"Where are you?"
"At home."
"Whitmore House?"
"Where else?"
Charles gripped the phone.
"You contacted Victoria."
"Yes."
"That wasn't part of the agreement."
Edward chuckled softly.
"Agreements change."
Charles's voice hardened.
"You promised me you'd stay out of this."
"And you promised me the children would remain unharmed."
Charles went silent.
Edward continued.
"Yet one boy is in the hospital, another has escaped, and the third is beginning to ask questions."
Charles closed his eyes.
"Edward, you don't understand what's happening."
"Oh, I understand perfectly."
The old man's voice became colder.
"You lost control."
Charles stared toward the window.
"What do you want?"
"Victoria."
"No."
Edward laughed.
"You don't get to refuse."
Charles's jaw tightened.
"She's my wife."
"She's my daughter."
"You abandoned her."
Edward went silent.
Then he said:
"And you betrayed her."
Charles gripped the phone.
"You have no idea what I've sacrificed."
Edward's voice sharpened.
"Don't speak to me about sacrifice."
A pause.
Then:
"Bring her to Whitmore House before noon."
Charles shook his head.
"Absolutely not."
Edward sighed.
"Then I'll release the original recordings."
Charles froze.
"What recordings?"
"The ones from fifteen years ago."
Charles felt his stomach drop.
"Edward—"
"The night Victoria tried to escape."
Charles closed his eyes.
Edward continued.
"The night you made your first promise to her."
Charles's voice became barely audible.
"Those recordings were destroyed."
"No."
A pause.
"I kept copies."
Charles stared at the phone.
Then Edward delivered the sentence that shattered the last of his composure.
"Victoria deserves to know that you were married to her once before."
At St. Catherine's, Victoria was preparing to leave with Detective Brooks when her phone vibrated again.
A new file had arrived.
This time, it was a scanned document.
A marriage certificate.
Victoria opened it.
Her heart began pounding.
The names were unmistakable.
Charles Alexander Vance.
Victoria Elizabeth Whitmore.
But the date was wrong.
The certificate had been issued fifteen years earlier.
Four years before the wedding Victoria remembered.
She stared at the document.
"No..."
Elena leaned closer.
"What is it?"
Victoria showed her the screen.
The detective examined it carefully.
"Is this your signature?"
Victoria looked at the bottom.
A familiar signature appeared.
Her own.
But the handwriting was different from the way she signed her name now.
It was the handwriting she had used as a teenager.
Victoria felt dizzy.
"I don't remember this."
Elena studied the certificate.
"We'll need to verify its authenticity."
Victoria barely heard her.
She remembered meeting Charles at a charity gala.
She remembered their first dinner.
Their engagement.
Their wedding.
Every detail had seemed real.
But now a document suggested that they had already been married years earlier.
And somehow, she had forgotten.
Her phone vibrated again.
A video file.
Victoria pressed play.
The screen showed a small wedding ceremony.
A younger Charles stood beside a seventeen-year-old Victoria.
She wore a simple white dress.
Her father stood behind them.
A priest spoke softly.
Charles placed a ring on Victoria's finger.
She smiled.
Then the camera moved closer.
Victoria heard her younger self speak.
"I promise I'll never leave you."
Charles kissed her hand.
"And I promise I'll always protect you."
The video ended.
Victoria stared at the screen.
Her breathing became shallow.
Then another message appeared.
You didn't forget your first marriage.
They made you forget.
Victoria's hands trembled.
A final attachment followed.
A medical report.
PROJECT EVE — MEMORY MODIFICATION SESSION.
Subject: Victoria Whitmore.
Procedure Date: Fifteen years earlier.
Supervising Physician: Edward Whitmore.
Assistant: Charles Vance.
Victoria stared at the document.
Then she saw the final line.
Reason for intervention: Subject discovered the identity of her first child.
Her blood turned cold.
Her first child?
Fifteen years earlier?
Long before Noah.
Long before Daniel.
Long before Thomas.
Victoria looked up at Elena.
Her voice was barely audible.
"Elena..."
The detective turned.
"What?"
Victoria held out the phone.
"According to this..."
She swallowed.
"I had a child before any of the boys."
Elena stared at the document.
Victoria's eyes filled with terror.
"And someone made me forget that child existed."