CHAPTER 12 OFELIA’S UNEXPECTED SECRET
SHE HAS BEEN WATCHING YOU SINCE THE DAY YOU GOT DIVORCED.
I read the message three times.
Then a fourth.
My hands went numb.
Ofelia.
My ex-mother-in-law.
The woman who had spent years telling me I was too dependent.
Too soft.
Too inexperienced.
The woman who had looked me in the eyes after my divorce and said:
“You’ll understand soon enough. Surviving alone is much harder than you think.”
She had known.
Not everything.
But enough.
I looked at Richard.
“Call her.”
Richard shook his head.
“She won't answer.”
“Try.”
He dialed.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Nothing.
Miguel took the phone from him and checked the number.
“She changed it.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“Because she knew this was coming.”
A cold silence settled over us.
Richard stepped closer.
“Maya, there's something you need to understand.”
“What?”
“Your mother-in-law didn't simply enter your life after you married Miguel.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“She was already connected to your father.”
“How?”
Richard hesitated.
“Financial records show Ofelia received payments from a medical foundation twelve years ago.”
“Vance Medical?”
“No.”
“Vitalis?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“The Torres Foundation.”
I froze.
“My father's foundation?”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“My father never had a foundation.”
“Not publicly.”
Richard handed me a file.
Inside were bank statements.
One account.
One name.
OFELIA TORRES-MARINO.
My heart pounded.
“Why would my father pay her?”
“That's what we're trying to find out.”
I turned another page.
The payments had begun twelve years earlier.
The exact year I married Miguel.
The first payment was small.
Then another.
Then another.
Every month.
For years.
I stared at the numbers.
“She was being paid to stay close to me.”
Miguel said nothing.
I looked at him.
“Did you know?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Because you knew almost everything else.”
His expression tightened.
“I didn't know about Ofelia.”
Richard interrupted.
“There's more.”
He opened another file.
A photograph fell onto the table.
Ofelia.
Standing outside a hospital.
Beside her—
Julian.
And between them was a little girl.
My age.
My face.
My eyes.
My twin.
I couldn't breathe.
“When was this taken?”
Richard checked the date.
“Twenty-seven years ago.”
I stared at the photograph.
“That was before Miguel and I were even born.”
“No,” Richard said quietly.
“It was after you were born.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“You and your sister were three years old.”
My heart stopped.
“We're not twins?”
Richard shook his head.
“You're twins.”
“But the records…”
“Were changed.”
“By whom?”
Richard didn't answer.
Because the answer was already in the photograph.
My father.
Ofelia.
And my sister.
We drove through the night.
No police.
No public roads.
Richard had one secure vehicle hidden beneath an abandoned warehouse.
Miguel drove.
I sat beside him.
Richard sat in the back with Helena.
Nobody spoke.
Finally, I asked:
“Where is Ofelia?”
Richard looked at the map.
“Her old house.”
“That's where she lived when Miguel and I were married.”
“Yes.”
“She hasn't been there in years.”
“She may be now.”
I stared through the windshield.
“What if she's holding my sister there?”
Miguel tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“Then we get her back.”
“And if Ofelia refuses?”
“Then we find another way.”
I looked at him.
“You're still trying to protect me.”
“Yes.”
“I don't need protecting.”
“I know.”
He glanced at me.
“But that doesn't mean I won't.”
I looked away.
A few minutes later, Richard's phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then:
“Repeat that.”
Silence.
“Where?”
He hung up.
“What happened?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Someone just accessed Ofelia's old bank account.”
“Who?”
Richard's eyes hardened.
“Your sister.”
The house looked exactly as I remembered.
Same cracked stone steps.
Same black iron gate.
Same dead rose bushes.
I stood outside for several seconds.
This was where I'd spent twelve years of my marriage.
Christmases.
Birthdays.
Arguments.
Dinner parties.
Funerals.
Lies.
Miguel touched my shoulder.
“You don't have to go in.”
“Yes.”
I looked at the door.
“I do.”
Richard checked the perimeter.
“Stay behind me.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“This is my past.”
I walked toward the door.
“I'll face it.”
The lock was broken.
Inside, everything was dark.
Dust covered the furniture.
The air smelled stale.
I stepped into the living room.
A photograph sat on the mantel.
Miguel and me on our wedding day.
I picked it up.
On the back was a handwritten sentence.
SHE WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO MARRY HIM.
My fingers tightened around the frame.
“Who wrote this?”
Ofelia's voice came from the hallway.
“I did.”
We all turned.
She stood at the end of the corridor.
Older.
Thinner.
Without makeup.
Without the expensive clothes.
Without the confidence she had always carried like armor.
For the first time in my life, Ofelia looked afraid.
I stared at her.
“Where is my sister?”
She closed her eyes.
“I knew you'd come.”
“Where is she?”
“Maya…”
“Don't call me that.”
She flinched.
“You don't get to call me that.”
I walked toward her.
“You lied to me for twelve years.”
“I lied to everyone.”
“You were paid to watch me.”
“Yes.”
“By my father?”
“Yes.”
“To protect me?”
Ofelia nodded.
I stopped.
“That isn't what the records say.”
“No.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
She looked at Miguel.
Then Richard.
Then Helena.
Her eyes stopped on Helena.
“You.”
Helena's face went pale.
Ofelia whispered:
“You were supposed to be dead.”
Helena stepped forward.
“Where is Isabel?”
Ofelia laughed bitterly.
“You still call her that?”
“What should I call her?”
“My daughter.”
Silence.
I stared at her.
“Your daughter?”
Ofelia nodded.
“She raised her.”
I looked at Richard.
Then at Helena.
“What is she talking about?”
Helena couldn't answer.
Ofelia did.
“Your sister was taken from Julian when you were three.”
“By whom?”
“The board.”
“What board?”
“The original Nightfall board.”
My breathing became shallow.
“They took one child because they needed a control subject.”
“Why?”
“Because you were resistant.”
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
“You were the first child whose nervous system rejected the suppression procedure.”
Ofelia's voice trembled.
“They tried again with your sister.”
I felt sick.
“And?”
“She didn't reject it.”
I closed my eyes.
My sister.
A child.
A test subject.
A person whose memories had been manipulated before she could even understand what memory was.
“What did they do to her?”
Ofelia looked down.
“They gave her another identity.”
“Which one?”
She didn't answer.
I grabbed her arm.
“Which one?”
Ofelia whispered:
“Isabel.”
I released her.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“My mother?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Ofelia looked directly at me.
“Your sister grew up believing she was your mother.”
My blood went cold.
“That makes no sense.”
“It wasn't supposed to.”
She continued.
“Nightfall didn't only alter memories. It constructed identities.”
I backed away.
“Where is she now?”
Ofelia's eyes filled with tears.
“She is closer than you think.”
“Where?”
She looked toward Miguel.
He suddenly froze.
Ofelia whispered:
“She followed you.”
I turned.
Miguel's face had gone pale.
“What?”
Ofelia pointed toward him.
“Your sister has been watching him for years.”
I stared at Miguel.
“No.”
He shook his head.
“I didn't know.”
Ofelia laughed softly.
“Of course you didn't.”
Then she looked at me.
“But she knew you.”
“How?”
“Because Julian made sure she did.”
Ofelia walked to an old cabinet.
She unlocked it.
Inside was a metal box.
She placed it on the table.
“This belongs to you.”
I opened it.
Inside was a stack of letters.
All addressed to:
MAYA
I picked up the first.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
I know you don't remember me.
The second:
I remember you.
The third:
I watched you marry him.
The fourth:
I watched him hurt you.
The fifth:
I wanted to tell you the truth.
The sixth:
But every time I tried, they reminded me what would happen to you.
I looked at Ofelia.
“Who wrote these?”
She whispered:
“Your sister.”
I turned the next letter over.
A photograph slipped out.
It showed a young woman.
Twenty years old.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
The same face as mine.
But there was something different.
A scar beneath her left eye.
I touched the photograph.
“Where is she?”
Ofelia didn't answer.
I looked up.
“Where?”
She whispered:
“She is the woman you've been calling Helena Ward.”
Everything inside me stopped.
I turned slowly toward Helena.
She was crying.
“No.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Helena whispered:
“Maya…”
I stepped back.
“You're my sister?”
She nodded.
“My name was Isabel.”
I couldn't breathe.
“You're not Helena Ward.”
“I became Helena Ward.”
“Why?”
“To survive.”
I stared at her.
“You've been beside me this whole time.”
“Yes.”
“You knew who I was.”
“Yes.”
“You watched me.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because every time I tried…”
She touched the scar beneath her eye.
“They reminded me.”
I looked closer.
The scar wasn't random.
It was a small circular mark.
A surgical implant scar.
“The key.”
She nodded.
“Nightfall put a neural device inside me.”
I stepped toward her.
“What does it do?”
“It allows them to monitor memory activity.”
“Can they control you?”
“Sometimes.”
“Can they control me?”
Helena shook her head.
“No.”
“Why not?”
She looked at me.
“Because your nervous system rejected them.”
My father had been right.
My body knew.
My mind had forgotten.
But my body remembered everything.
Suddenly, the lights went out.
A gunshot shattered the window.
Richard shouted:
“DOWN!”
We dropped.
Glass exploded across the room.
Miguel pulled me behind the sofa.
Another shot.
Then another.
Richard fired toward the window.
Helena grabbed Ofelia.
“Basement!”
We ran.
A red laser moved across the hallway.
Someone was inside.
They weren't shooting randomly.
They were hunting us.
We reached the basement door.
Ofelia stopped.
“No.”
“What?” I asked.
“This way.”
She opened a hidden panel behind an old bookshelf.
A staircase descended into darkness.
I stared at her.
“You knew about this?”
“I built it.”
“For Nightfall?”
“No.”
“For Julian.”
We descended.
The passage was narrow.
Old photographs covered the walls.
Photographs of me.
My childhood.
My wedding.
My divorce.
My father.
Miguel.
Richard.
Everyone.
At the end was a steel door.
Ofelia entered a code.
The door opened.
Inside was a small room.
One chair.
One table.
One television.
And a camera.
The screen switched on.
A woman appeared.
My sister.
Isabel.
But she wasn't Helena.
She was younger.
Maybe twenty-five.
Alive.
Smiling.
And standing beside her was Julian.
I stared.
“That isn't Helena.”
Ofelia shook her head.
“No.”
“Then who is she?”
The video began.
Julian spoke directly to the camera.
“Maya, if you're watching this, Ofelia has finally told you the truth.”
He paused.
“There are two sisters.”
I frowned.
“What?”
Julian continued.
“One of you survived Nightfall.”
“The other one created it.”
I felt the blood leave my face.
He leaned closer to the camera.
“Your sister isn't Isabel Torres.”
“She isn't Helena Ward.”
“She is the woman who became the first architect of Nightfall.”
The screen went black.
Then a name appeared.
DR. VALERIE GRANT.
My heart stopped.
Valerie.
The woman who had just pointed a gun at my father.
The woman who had saved Richard.
The woman who had helped us.
The woman who knew everything.
The woman who had been standing beside us since the beginning.
Ofelia whispered:
“She found you.”
I stared at the screen.
“Why?”
A final message appeared.
BECAUSE SHE NEEDS YOUR MEMORY TO FINISH NIGHTFALL.
Then the basement door above us exploded.
And Valerie's voice echoed through the tunnel.
“Maya.”
May you like
A pause.
“It's time you remembered everything.”
