CHAPTER 8 — ROOM 17B
The brass key felt strangely heavy in my hand.
I kept staring at the engraving.
17B.
One simple marking.
Yet somehow, it had become the key to everything.
The erased children.
The altered identities.
My father's secrets.
Claire's lies.
And perhaps the truth about Emma.
Daniel stood beside me as the school continued to burn behind us.
“We need to leave this area.”
I shook my head.
“Not yet.”
“Michael, the building is unstable.”
“I know.”
“You don't understand. If Room 17B is beneath that building, it could collapse.”
I looked at the fire.
“Then we go before it does.”
Daniel studied my face.
“You're willing to risk your life for a room?”
“No.”
I closed my hand around the key.
“I'm willing to risk it for my children.”
The police commander approached.
“We've secured the perimeter.”
“Can we get underground?”
“There's a maintenance entrance beneath the chapel.”
My heart tightened.
“Take me there.”
He hesitated.
“It's dangerous.”
“So is everything else.”
We moved around the burning school toward the chapel.
The oldest part of St. Andrew's Academy had survived for more than a century.
Stone walls.
Narrow windows.
A heavy wooden door.
Inside, the chapel was eerily quiet.
Smoke had not reached this section yet.
Rows of wooden benches stretched toward the altar.
I looked around.
“Where?”
The commander pointed toward the floor beneath the altar.
“Maintenance plans show an access tunnel.”
Daniel walked over.
He examined the stone tiles.
“There's a seam.”
The officers removed several tiles.
Beneath them was a steel hatch.
My pulse quickened.
There was no handle.
Only a keyhole.
I inserted the brass key.
It turned immediately.
The hatch opened.
Cold air rushed upward.
A narrow staircase descended into darkness.
One officer switched on his flashlight.
“We're going first.”
I followed.
Daniel stayed behind me.
The deeper we went, the colder it became.
The walls changed from stone to concrete.
Then metal.
Finally, we reached a corridor.
A faded sign hung above the doorway.
17B
I stopped.
After everything we'd found, seeing those two characters made my heart pound.
Daniel stood beside me.
“Ready?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“But I'm going in anyway.”
The door opened with a long metallic groan.
Inside was a room unlike anything I'd expected.
No medical equipment.
No weapons.
No bodies.
Just shelves.
Hundreds of boxes.
Each one labeled with a name.
Children's names.
Dates.
Hospitals.
Locations.
I walked slowly between them.
Some names were crossed out.
Some had the word TRANSFERRED.
Others said DECEASED.
And some had only one word.
ERASED.
Daniel opened the nearest box.
Inside were birth certificates.
Adoption records.
Medical histories.
Photographs.
Every child's identity had been changed.
“This is massive,” he whispered.
I stared at the shelves.
“How many?”
“Hundreds.”
My stomach turned.
“This wasn't a family secret.”
“No.”
Daniel looked at the records.
“It was an operation.”
Then he found a box labeled:
CARTER FAMILY — PRIMARY FILE
He opened it.
Inside was a photograph of my grandfather.
Underneath it was another photograph.
My father.
Then Richard.
Then Jonathan.
I picked up Jonathan's photograph.
The label beneath it read:
SUBJECT J-01
I frowned.
“Subject?”
Daniel turned the page.
“Your grandfather wasn't treating him as family.”
“What was he doing?”
“Studying him.”
I looked at the next document.
BLOODLINE COMPATIBILITY
My stomach tightened.
“What is this?”
Daniel read.
“Genetic analysis.”
“Of Jonathan?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He turned another page.
Then froze.
“Michael.”
“What?”
“This says Jonathan isn't genetically related to your grandfather.”
I stared at him.
“We already suspected that.”
“No.”
He pointed to the test.
“This isn't a suspicion.”
He tapped the page.
“It's confirmed.”
Jonathan wasn't my grandfather's biological son.
But there was another result.
Daniel read it silently.
Then his face changed.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“Jonathan shares genetic markers with you.”
I couldn't breathe.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if Jonathan is related to your biological father.”
“He is my father's brother.”
“Yes.”
“But if he's adopted…”
Daniel looked down.
“Then your father may not be biologically related to your grandfather either.”
I stared at him.
The family tree was collapsing again.
“My father…”
“May not have been a Carter by blood.”
I stepped backward.
“No.”
Daniel didn't argue.
He opened another file.
There was a laboratory report.
PATERNAL DNA COMPARISON
Subject:
MICHAEL CARTER
Compared against:
JONATHAN — J-01
Result:
BIOLOGICAL RELATIONSHIP CONFIRMED.
I stared at the page.
My whole life had been built around the Carter name.
The Carter companies.
The Carter trust.
The Carter inheritance.
But if my father wasn't biologically related to my grandfather—
then why had my grandfather given everything to him?
Daniel kept searching.
Then he found another document.
ORIGINAL FAMILY DESIGNATION
The document contained a handwritten note.
Jonathan was the first.
Michael was the second.
Richard was the third.
None of them were born to Jonathan Carter.
I looked at Daniel.
“Then who was their father?”
He turned the page.
The answer had been blacked out.
Someone had deliberately removed the name.
But beneath the black ink was a faint handwritten notation.
PROJECT MERIDIAN SOURCE: UNKNOWN
I felt sick.
Project Meridian again.
The organization wasn't simply changing children's identities.
It appeared to have been involved in the creation of my family itself.
Then I saw a photograph.
A woman.
She looked familiar.
I picked it up.
Daniel stared.
“Who is that?”
I didn't know.
But something about her face made my memory ache.
Then I turned the photograph over.
EVELYN CROSS
The nurse Claire had mentioned.
The nurse who supposedly died six years ago.
The woman who had handled the newborn transfer.
The woman who had signed the documents.
I stared at her photograph.
“She was alive when this was taken.”
“When?”
Daniel checked.
Three years ago.
My pulse accelerated.
“She didn't die six years ago.”
“No.”
“Then someone forged her death too.”
Daniel nodded.
We searched the rest of the box.
Then we found a surveillance photograph.
Evelyn standing beside Claire.
Seven years ago.
Outside a private medical facility.
Between them was an infant carrier.
I stared.
“That's Emma?”
Daniel zoomed in.
“No.”
“Then who?”
He couldn't tell.
But the photograph contained a date.
October 17.
And a location.
Carter Research Center.
I had never heard of it.
“Did my family own a research center?”
Daniel searched.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“It was dissolved twenty-five years ago.”
“Of course.”
Everything that mattered was supposedly dead, dissolved, or missing.
But the records kept proving otherwise.
Then I noticed a handwritten note attached to the photograph.
TRANSFER COMPLETE — 2:13 A.M.
Below it:
CHILD: L-01
My heart stopped.
“L-01.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Lucas.”
I shook my head.
“Maybe.”
We opened another file.
L-01
The first page showed a newborn.
The second showed a six-year-old.
The third showed a fourteen-year-old.
But the photographs weren't the same child.
Three different faces.
Three different boys.
All carrying the same identity.
Lucas Carter.
I felt sick.
“They've been using Lucas as a name.”
Daniel nodded.
“A reusable identity.”
“Why?”
“To move children through the system without creating new legal records.”
I stared at the files.
“Then who is the real Lucas?”
Daniel pointed toward the oldest photograph.
“This one.”
The baby.
The child had the same crescent-shaped mark beneath his left ear.
My heart pounded.
“That means the boy we met isn't Lucas.”
“No.”
“Then where is the real Lucas?”
Daniel turned the page.
A note was attached.
L-01 — STATUS UNKNOWN
Then another line.
LAST KNOWN LOCATION: CARTER ESTATE.
I stared at it.
The old house.
Again.
Everything seemed to lead back there.
Then we heard footsteps.
Someone was coming down the corridor.
I reached for my weapon.
The officers raised theirs.
The door opened.
Claire stood there.
I stared at her.
“How did you get here?”
She was breathing heavily.
“I followed you.”
“You were supposed to stay home.”
“I couldn't.”
“You need to leave.”
“No.”
She stepped into the room.
“I know what you're going to find.”
I stared at her.
“You knew about this room.”
She nodded.
“How?”
“Richard brought me here.”
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
“Why?”
“To show me what would happen if I refused.”
I felt my anger rise.
“What would happen?”
Claire looked at the files.
“He showed me children.”
“What children?”
“Children who had been given new names.”
“Why?”
“Because their parents wanted them erased.”
“Parents?”
“Rich families.”
“Why would parents want their children erased?”
Claire shook her head.
“Not the parents.”
“Then who?”
“The families.”
I stared.
She continued.
“Sometimes a child threatened an inheritance.”
“Like Emma.”
“Yes.”
“Sometimes a child knew something dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“And sometimes?”
Claire's voice broke.
“Sometimes the child wasn't supposed to be born.”
I looked at her.
“Like Lucas?”
She shook her head.
“Like me.”
I froze.
“What?”
Claire looked at me.
“I wasn't supposed to marry you.”
My heart stopped.
“What does that mean?”
“Your grandfather chose me.”
I stared.
“Chose you for what?”
“To have your children.”
The room went silent.
I couldn't speak.
Claire continued.
“He wanted a specific bloodline.”
Daniel looked stunned.
“What bloodline?”
Claire shook her head.
“I never understood it.”
“You're saying my grandfather arranged our marriage?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he believed you would produce a child who could activate the trust.”
I felt sick.
“Emma.”
Claire nodded.
“But he didn't know there would be twins.”
“Then what about Ethan?”
“He was supposed to be the heir.”
“And Emma?”
“She was the hidden trigger.”
Daniel's eyes widened.
“The trust was designed to activate when a second child was deliberately concealed.”
Claire nodded.
“And the third?”
“I never knew.”
I stared at her.
“You knew about the trust.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about Emma.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about the hidden room.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about Project Meridian.”
“Yes.”
“And you still let me believe Emma was dead.”
Claire looked at me.
“I was terrified.”
I shook my head.
“That doesn't excuse seven years.”
“No.”
She wiped her tears.
“It doesn't.”
Then she reached into her coat.
She pulled out a small envelope.
“I found this in the room before you arrived.”
I took it.
My name was written on the front.
Inside was a letter.
My father's handwriting.
I recognized it immediately.
My hands trembled.
Michael,
If you ever find Room 17B, then Claire has failed.
Not because she was supposed to protect you.
Because she was supposed to protect the children.
I stopped.
Daniel looked over my shoulder.
I continued.
Your grandfather created Project Meridian because he believed blood could be controlled.
He was wrong.
But I made the same mistake.
I believed I could destroy the project from inside.
I couldn't.
The children were already scattered.
Some were hidden.
Some were renamed.
Some were declared dead.
And one was never supposed to be found.
My heart pounded.
That child is the key.
Not Emma.
Not Ethan.
Not Lucas.
The child whose identity was erased before he was born.
I looked at Claire.
She was crying.
I continued.
If you find him, do not trust the person who brings him to you.
They will claim they are saving him.
They are not.
They are trying to use him.
The letter ended with one final sentence.
Michael, I am sorry I left you inside a family built on lies.
I lowered the page.
“Who is the child?”
Claire whispered:
“I don't know.”
Daniel looked toward the shelves.
“Maybe the records do.”
We searched for anything connected to an unidentified child.
Finally, we found a black folder.
No name.
Only a symbol.
A circle divided by three lines.
Inside was one document.
SUBJECT ZERO
Birth date:
UNKNOWN
Parents:
UNKNOWN
Bloodline:
CARTER
Status:
ACTIVE
I stared.
“Active?”
Daniel nodded.
“Not deceased.”
“Not missing.”
“Active.”
“Then he's alive.”
“Yes.”
The room suddenly went silent.
Then the lights went out.
The same voice from the recording filled the corridor.
“Michael.”
I turned.
“Jonathan?”
A soft laugh.
“You're finally asking the right questions.”
I stepped toward the speaker.
“Where is Subject Zero?”
Silence.
Then:
“You already know.”
“I don't.”
“You've held him.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
“You held him seven years ago.”
I looked at Claire.
She covered her mouth.
The voice continued.
“You just didn't know his name.”
The speaker clicked off.
Daniel looked at me.
“What does that mean?”
I couldn't answer.
Then Claire whispered:
“The baby.”
I turned.
“What?”
She was crying.
“The baby I handed to Richard.”
“You're saying that was Subject Zero?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“The baby I handed over wasn't Emma.”
I stared.
“Then who?”
Claire looked at me.
“The child was wearing Ethan's bracelet.”
My blood ran cold.
I suddenly understood.
Seven years ago, someone had deliberately switched the babies' identities.
The child Richard took wasn't the third baby.
He was someone else.
And the identity on his bracelet had been stolen from Ethan.
I looked at Daniel.
“Then where was Ethan?”
Daniel's eyes widened.
“We need the original nursery logs.”
I nodded.
“Now.”
We rushed toward the exit.
But before we reached the door, Claire grabbed my hand.
“Michael.”
“What?”
“There is one thing I never told you.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“The night you were born…”
She stopped.
“You weren't the child your grandfather expected either.”
I felt the blood leave my face.
“What are you saying?”
Claire whispered:
“Your birth certificate is false.”
I froze.
“My entire identity…”
She nodded.
“Was changed.”
The room seemed to spin.
Daniel stared at me.
“If that's true…”
I finished the sentence for him.
“Then I may not be Michael Carter.”
Behind us, a small red light appeared on the wall.
A camera.
Someone was watching.
May you like
Then a message appeared on the screen:
WELCOME HOME, SUBJECT ZERO.
