Part 8: The Switch
Part 8: The Switch
The gunshot was quiet, a mere 'thwip' in the air. But the pain was explosive. It didn't hit me, though. It hit the computer terminal behind us, sending sparks flying. My father’s hand was shaking—the first sign of weakness I’d ever seen. 'I made you!' he roared. 'Everything you are, every breath you take, belongs to me!'
In the chaos of the sparks and the blaring alarms, the sprinkler system triggered. Water began pouring from the ceiling, drenching us all. Elise grabbed my arm, her strength surprising me. 'The basement,' she hissed. 'The service tunnel!' We dived behind a medical cart as my father fired again. I pushed the cart toward him with all my might, and in the confusion, we slipped into the stairwell.
We tumbled down the stairs, the sound of his shouting fading above us. We reached the basement, a labyrinth of pipes and shadows. 'This way,' Elise whispered, leading me to a heavy steel door. Behind it was a tunnel that smelled of the city’s sewers. We ran until our lungs burned, emerging two blocks away in a rain-slicked alley.
We were shivering, soaked to the bone, and hunted. I looked at Elise. In the dim light of the streetlamp, we were identical. The same wet hair, the same terrified eyes, the same blood-stained clothes. A plan began to form in my mind—a desperate, dangerous gamble. 'He thinks I'm the weak one,' I said, looking at the wedding ring on my finger. 'He thinks I'll collapse without him.'
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'What are you saying?' Elise asked. I took off my ring and handed it to her. I took off my expensive wet coat and swapped it for her tattered one. 'The wedding is tomorrow. He can't afford a scandal. He needs 'Elena' to walk down that aisle. You know how to play me? You’ve been watching me from the shadows for years.'
Elise looked at the ring, then at me. 'And what will you do?' I looked toward the silhouette of the police station a few blocks away, clutching the 'Project Castor' files to my chest. 'I'm going to find the one person my father can't bribe. I'm going to find Thomas Thorne’s brother.' But as I turned to leave, Elise grabbed my wrist. Her eyes were wide with a new kind of terror. 'Elena... the files. Look at the last page. The one with the DNA results.' I opened the folder. My breath hitched. The 'Secondary Subject' wasn't Elise. It was me. I was the spare. She was the original.
