PART 5 — THE VAULT UNDER THE HOUSE
“IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHO YOUR CHILDREN'S REAL FATHER IS, COME ALONE.”
I read the message three times.
My hands went cold.
I looked at Josephine.
She was staring at me.
“Bennett?”
I locked my phone.
“Nothing.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Don't lie to me.”
The irony almost made me laugh.
A year ago, I had destroyed our marriage because I thought Josephine was the liar.
Now I was standing in the middle of a dark road with our children in her arms, my father bleeding nearby, and a stranger threatening to expose the identity of my own children.
Nothing made sense anymore.
Daniel crouched beside my father.
“He's alive.”
I exhaled.
“Can we move him?”
“Not safely.”
“Then we take him with us.”
Daniel shook his head.
“He needs medical attention.”
I looked at him.
“You just told me we can't go to a hospital.”
“Not a public one.”
“Then find another.”
Daniel stared at me.
“You don't understand how serious this is.”
“My father was dead for fifteen years. Apparently, I've been wrong about everything. So forgive me if I'm having trouble trusting your definition of serious.”
Daniel's jaw tightened.
Josephine stepped closer.
“Bennett, we need to go.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because whoever shot your father knows where we are.”
I glanced at the road.
She was right.
We couldn't stay.
Daniel lifted Thomas into the back of the vehicle.
My father groaned.
His eyes opened briefly.
“Bennett…”
I grabbed his hand.
“I'm here.”
His fingers tightened around mine.
“Don't trust…”
His voice faded.
“Who?”
He looked at Josephine.
“Her.”
My heart stopped.
Josephine went completely still.
Thomas's eyes closed again.
I stared at her.
Josephine shook her head.
“Bennett, I swear—”
“I don't know what to believe anymore.”
Her face crumbled.
“I know.”
Daniel climbed into the driver's seat.
“Everyone inside.”
We moved.
For the next twenty minutes, nobody spoke.
Josephine sat beside me with the twins.
My father lay unconscious behind us.
Daniel drove through back roads, avoiding every major highway.
Finally, the familiar outline of the Carter estate appeared ahead.
My childhood home.
The house where I'd grown up.
The house where my mother had died.
The house I hadn't visited since the funeral.
I stared through the windshield.
“We're really going there?”
Daniel nodded.
“You received the message.”
“I thought it was a trap.”
“It is.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
Daniel kept his eyes on the road.
“It is absolutely a trap.”
“Then why are we going?”
“Because it's also the only place where we might find answers.”
We stopped outside the estate.
The house looked exactly as I remembered it.
Dark windows.
White columns.
Old stone steps.
But something felt wrong.
The front door was open.
I stared.
“I locked that door myself after the house was sold.”
Daniel reached for his weapon.
“Stay behind me.”
We entered.
Dust covered the furniture.
The air smelled stale.
Josephine held the twins close.
I walked into the hallway.
My mother's portrait still hung above the fireplace.
I stopped.
For fifteen years, I'd looked at that painting and remembered her smile.
Now all I could think about was what my father had said.
She was murdered.
I approached the portrait.
Josephine whispered:
“Bennett.”
I turned.
She was staring at the wall.
“What?”
“Look.”
There were scratches beneath the painting.
I touched them.
Fresh.
Someone had recently moved it.
I pulled the portrait away.
Behind it was a small metal keypad.
My heart started pounding.
Daniel stepped forward.
“Do you know the code?”
“No.”
I examined it.
Four numbers.
Then I remembered the key in my pocket.
The number 17.
I typed:
1-7-1-7.
Nothing.
I tried my mother's birthday.
Nothing.
My father's birthday.
Nothing.
Josephine whispered:
“Try the twins' birth date.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“Just try.”
I entered the date.
The keypad beeped.
A green light appeared.
The wall clicked.
Then slowly opened.
Behind it was a narrow staircase descending into darkness.
I stared.
“My entire childhood…”
Daniel nodded.
“And you never knew.”
We descended.
The stairs seemed endless.
At the bottom was a steel door.
Beside it was another keypad.
I looked at Josephine.
She shook her head.
“Try 17.”
I entered it.
The door opened.
Inside was a vault.
Not a bank vault.
A room.
Shelves covered every wall.
Boxes.
Documents.
Photographs.
Hard drives.
Bank records.
Medical files.
And dozens of folders bearing the same symbol.
A black circle with a line through the center.
Daniel stopped breathing.
“What?”
He pointed.
“That symbol.”
“You recognize it?”
He nodded.
“It's the organization your father was investigating.”
I walked toward the nearest shelf.
A folder caught my attention.
My name was written across it.
BENNETT CARTER — PERSONAL.
I opened it.
Inside were photographs.
Me as a child.
Me at school.
Me at college.
My wedding.
Josephine and me.
I turned the pages faster.
Then I stopped.
A photograph of Josephine.
Pregnant.
Taken from across the street.
Another.
Josephine entering the hospital.
Another.
Felicity standing outside the hospital.
My stomach twisted.
Someone had been watching Josephine for months.
I pulled another folder.
This one was marked:
TWINS — PROJECT 17.
Josephine gasped.
“No.”
I opened it.
Medical reports.
DNA charts.
Blood tests.
Ultrasound images.
Then I saw something that made my hands shake.
The twins' names weren't listed.
They were labeled:
SUBJECT A
and
SUBJECT B.
I looked at Josephine.
“What is Project 17?”
She was crying.
“I don't know.”
“You were there.”
“I told you. I didn't know.”
“Then why did you hide this?”
“I didn't hide it!”
“It's in a vault under my house!”
“Because I didn't put it there!”
Daniel stepped between us.
“Enough.”
I looked at him.
“Who created Project 17?”
He stared at the documents.
“I don't know.”
“Don't lie.”
“I'm not.”
I grabbed another folder.
A photograph fell onto the floor.
Josephine picked it up.
Her face went white.
“What?”
She couldn't answer.
I took it from her.
The photograph showed a laboratory.
A doctor stood beside a machine.
And sitting in a chair was Felicity.
Pregnant.
My blood froze.
“That's impossible.”
Josephine stared at the picture.
“Felicity was pregnant?”
Daniel grabbed the photograph.
“Where did you find this?”
“In the file.”
Daniel's expression became grim.
He flipped it over.
There was a date.
Two months before my divorce.
And underneath:
GENETIC TRANSFER SUCCESSFUL.
I looked at Josephine.
“What does that mean?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Then I heard a sound.
A soft cry.
I turned.
One of the twins was awake.
The little girl stared at me.
Her eyes were open.
Dark.
But not brown.
Blue.
I froze.
Josephine noticed.
“What?”
I stared at her.
“The baby's eyes.”
“What about them?”
“They're blue.”
She looked down.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
I looked at the photograph of Felicity.
Then at the baby.
Felicity's eyes were the same color.
I felt sick.
“Josephine…”
She stepped backward.
“No.”
“Did you know?”
“No!”
“Then explain it!”
Josephine began crying.
“I told you the truth.”
“Did you?”
“Yes!”
“Are these children mine?”
Her face broke.
“Yes.”
“Both of them?”
“Yes!”
“Then why does the file say genetic transfer?”
Josephine couldn't answer.
Daniel suddenly pulled out his phone.
“Bennett.”
“What?”
“Look at this.”
He showed me a photograph he'd just received.
It was taken outside the Carter house.
A black SUV.
Three people standing beside it.
One was Felicity.
One was the lawyer.
And the third—
My blood ran cold.
It was my father.
But my father was still lying unconscious in the vehicle outside.
I stared at the photograph.
“That's impossible.”
Daniel whispered:
“Exactly.”
Another photo arrived.
This one showed the third man's face clearly.
Older.
Same eyes.
Same jaw.
Same scar above the eyebrow.
But he wasn't Thomas Carter.
He was someone else.
Someone who looked almost exactly like him.
My father had a twin.
I felt the room spinning.
Then the vault lights suddenly turned red.
An alarm began screaming.
Daniel swore.
“Someone breached the house.”
Josephine grabbed the twins.
I rushed toward the vault door.
It slammed shut.
We were locked inside.
“Daniel!”
He attacked the keypad.
“It's been overridden.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone outside controls the vault.”
I pulled out my phone.
No signal.
Then the speaker above us crackled.
A man's voice filled the room.
Calm.
Deep.
Familiar.
“Hello, Bennett.”
I froze.
Josephine looked at me.
The voice continued.
“You've spent fifteen years believing I was dead.”
My blood turned to ice.
“Dad?”
A quiet laugh came through the speaker.
“No.”
I stared at the ceiling.
The voice said:
“Your father is still unconscious in the car.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Then who are you?”
Silence.
Then:
“The man who raised your father.”
Daniel's face went pale.
I stared at him.
He whispered:
“That's not possible.”
The voice continued.
“Bennett, you want to know who the twins' real father is?”
My heart stopped.
Josephine clutched the babies.
“Don't listen to him,” she whispered.
The voice laughed.
“Your wife knows the answer.”
I turned toward Josephine.
She shook her head desperately.
“No, Bennett.”
“Tell me.”
“I can't.”
“Tell me!”
She began sobbing.
“I didn't cheat on you.”
“I know.”
“Those babies are yours.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
Josephine looked at the twins.
Then at me.
“Because…”
Her voice broke.
“I didn't give birth to both of them.”
Silence.
I stared at her.
“What?”
She closed her eyes.
“I gave birth to one.”
My entire body went numb.
“And the other?”
The speaker crackled.
The unknown man answered for her.
“The other child…”
A pause.
“…was born from Felicity.”
