Chapter 6: The Name on the Certificate
Vanessa held the birth certificate between two fingers.
She didn't look frightened anymore.
That was what scared me most.
Her expression had gone completely calm.
Almost relieved.
“You found it,” she said.
I stared at the paper.
Then at her.
“The baby…”
My voice failed.
Vanessa took one slow step forward.
“You really don't remember.””
“Remember what?””
She tilted the certificate toward the light.
“Her.””
I shook my head.
“That isn't possible.””
“It is.””
“Zoe is six.””
“I know.””
“You said—”
“I never said she was six.””
My heart hammered against my ribs.
“You're her mother?””
Vanessa looked down at the certificate.
“Yes.””
The room seemed to tilt.
“No.””
“You've spent four years believing you were hired as a nanny.””
“I was.””
“You were hired because Marcus wanted you close.””
“Why?””
“Because you were the one person who could get close to Zoe without raising suspicion.””
I stared at her.
“What are you talking about?””
Vanessa walked toward the archive shelves.
“Do you remember the accident?””
I frowned.
“What accident?””
“Six years ago.””
“I was in a car accident when I was twenty-four.””
Vanessa stopped.
“Exactly.””
I suddenly saw fragments.
Rain.
Headlights.
A ringing sound.
A hospital ceiling.
A nurse asking questions I couldn't answer.
Then nothing.
I pressed my fingers against my temple.
“I lost my memory.””
“Yes.””
“And you knew.””
“We all knew.””
“Marcus knew?””
“Yes.””
My breathing became shallow.
“Then why did he hire me?””
Vanessa looked at me.
“Because he needed to know what you remembered.””
I stared.
“What?””
“The accident wasn't an accident.””
The words struck harder than anything she had said.
“You're lying.””
“No.””
“You expect me to believe you were involved?””
“I didn't cause it.””
“Then who did?””
She didn't answer.
I stepped toward her.
“Who was that baby?””
Vanessa looked at the birth certificate.
“My daughter.””
“Zoe.””
“Yes.””
“Why was I holding her?””
“Because you were helping me.””
“Helping you do what?””
Her expression changed.
For the first time, something resembling regret appeared.
“Run.””
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“Run from who?””
“Marcus.””
I shook my head.
“My husband?””
“He wasn't always your husband.””
“What does that mean?””
Vanessa lowered the certificate.
“Before you lost your memory, you worked for him.””
I stared.
“I never worked for Marcus before.””
“You did.””
“No.””
“You were an investigator.””
“An investigator?””
“You were looking into Ellison Holdings.””
My mind filled with broken images.
Folders.
A conference room.
A red stamp.
Someone saying, Keep digging.
I stepped backward.
“Why can't I remember?””
“The doctors called it retrograde amnesia.””
“Why did nobody tell me?””
“Because Marcus paid them not to.””
I felt sick.
“You're lying.””
“Ask Dr. Keller.””
“Who is Dr. Keller?””
“The doctor who treated you after the crash.””
I stared at her.
“Where is he?””
“Dead.””
The word hung in the archive.
“Dead?””
“Three years ago.””
“How?””
Vanessa looked away.
“They said it was a heart attack.””
I gave a short, broken laugh.
“And you expect me to believe that?””
“I expect you to start asking the right questions.””
I walked toward her.
“You put Zoe's medicine in your bag.””
“Yes.””
My chest tightened.
“Why?””
“To force Marcus to look at the evidence.””
“You almost killed her!””
Vanessa's face hardened.
“I knew the medication would be found.””
“You couldn't know that!””
“I knew you would search my bag.””
“You used my daughter as bait.””
“I needed Marcus terrified.””
“You used a child!””
“She is my child too.””
“No.””
My voice echoed through the archive.
“You don't get to say that.””
She flinched.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then I pointed at the birth certificate.
“Why is my name on those photographs?””
“Because you protected her.””
“From whom?””
“From Marcus.””
The room seemed to shrink.
I remembered Zoe as a baby.
Not clearly.
Just flashes.
Tiny fingers.
A white blanket.
A woman crying.
My own voice saying, “I'll take her.””
I grabbed the edge of a shelf.
“Why?””
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
“Because I believed you.””
“What?””
“You found out what Marcus was doing.””
“What was he doing?””
She shook her head.
“I don't know everything.””
“Then tell me what you do know.””
“He was moving money through shell companies.””
“Morrow Consulting.””
She nodded.
“He was laundering money.””
“For whom?””
“People who wanted access to something inside the company.””
“What?””
She looked toward the black box.
“Project Zoe.””
I stared at her.
“What is it?””
Vanessa hesitated.
“Zoe wasn't the project's subject.””
I felt a chill.
“Then what was?””
“You.””
I couldn't breathe.
“Me?””
“You were the subject.””
The fluorescent light above us buzzed.
I looked at the photographs again.
Me holding a newborn.
Me sitting in the clinic.
Me looking terrified.
“What did they do to me?””
“I don't know.””
“Why am I in those photographs?””
“Because you volunteered.””
“No.””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because you thought you were helping children.””
I stepped toward her.
“What kind of project?””
Vanessa looked at the floor.
“Genetic research.””
The word hit me like ice water.
I shook my head.
“No.””
“You don't remember.””
“I remember enough.””
“Do you?””
She took another step.
“You remember being a nanny.””
“You remember meeting Marcus.””
“You remember Zoe being born.””
“But you don't remember the year before any of that.””
I closed my eyes.
A room.
White walls.
A needle.
A clipboard.
Someone saying my name.
Someone else saying, Subject G-17.
I opened my eyes.
Vanessa was watching me.
“You remember.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
“You do.””
“No.””
“Grace, they erased part of your memory.””
My knees almost gave out.
“Who?””
“Marcus.””
The archive door suddenly rattled.
Both of us turned.
Someone was outside.
Vanessa whispered, “We have to go.””
I didn't move.
“Who is it?””
“I don't know.””
The handle turned.
Vanessa grabbed my arm.
“Come on.””
I pulled away.
“You expect me to trust you?””
“No.””
She looked toward the door.
“But you should be afraid of whoever is outside.””
The door burst open.
A man in a dark jacket stepped inside.
He froze when he saw us.
Vanessa grabbed the black box.
“Run.””
I didn't question it.
We bolted through a second doorway at the back of the archive.
A narrow corridor led to an emergency exit.
Behind us, footsteps thundered.
“Who is that?”” I whispered.
“I don't know!””
“You brought me here!””
“So did they!””
We pushed through the emergency door.
Rain poured down.
We ran behind the building.
My lungs burned.
I slipped on wet pavement.
Vanessa caught my arm.
“Keep moving!””
We reached my car.
I yanked open the driver's door.
Vanessa climbed into the passenger seat.
“Drive!””
I started the engine.
We pulled away.
Neither of us spoke for several seconds.
Then I looked at her.
“You knew about me before I met Marcus.””
“Yes.””
“You knew about Zoe.””
“Yes.””
“You knew about my memory loss.””
“Yes.””
“You knew about Project Zoe.””
“Yes.””
“And you framed me.””
Vanessa stared through the windshield.
“I needed Marcus to see what he had done to you.””
“You could have told him.””
“He wouldn't listen.””
“You could have told the police.””
She laughed bitterly.
“Which police?””
I looked at her.
She pointed at the rearview mirror.
“Three months after your accident, a detective investigating Ellison Holdings disappeared.””
“Who?””
“Nathan Cole's father.””
My hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“Nathan?””
“He knows part of the truth.””
“Why didn't he tell me?””
“Because he doesn't know who to trust.””
I thought of Nathan's warning.
Then I remembered something else.
“The photo.””
“What photo?””
“The one of Marcus in the west office.””
Vanessa went still.
“The picture someone sent me.””
Her face changed.
“What did it show?””
“Marcus standing beside you.””
“When?””
“Tonight.””
She shook her head.
“That wasn't tonight.””
I glanced at her.
“What?””
“That photograph was taken two days ago.””
My stomach dropped.
“But the timestamp said tonight.””
“Then someone altered it.””
“Who?””
Vanessa didn't answer.
I looked at her.
“You know.””
“No.””
“You do.””
She looked terrified again.
“Grace, there is one thing you haven't asked.””
“What?””
“Why was your badge in my bag?””
“I asked.””
“No.””
She looked directly at me.
“You asked why I had it.””
“That is the same thing.””
“No.””
Her voice dropped.
“You should ask why someone needed me to possess it.””
I stared at her.
She reached into her coat and pulled out a small envelope.
“I took this from the west office.””
“What is it?””
“Your original personnel file.””
I grabbed it.
My name was typed across the front.
Beneath it:
*SUBJECT G-17 — TRANSFERRED TO ELLISON HOLDINGS*
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed me six years earlier.
Standing beside a hospital bed.
Holding baby Zoe.
And beside me was Marcus.
But Marcus wasn't looking at me.
He was looking directly at the camera.
His hand rested on Zoe's head.
On the back of the photograph was a handwritten sentence.
*She must never remember who the child belonged to.*
I turned the photograph over again.
“Vanessa.””
“Yes?””
“If you're Zoe's mother…”
She looked at me.
“Then why does the document say I was her legal guardian?””
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
“Because you were.””
I stared at her.
“Then where were you?””
She whispered the answer.
“In prison.””
My phone suddenly rang.
Nathan.
I answered.
“Hello?””
His voice came through, breathless.
“Grace, where are you?””
“In the car.””
“Get somewhere safe.””
“Why?””
“I found the original Project Zoe files.””
My heart stopped.
“What do they say?””
Nathan was silent for a moment.
Then he said,
May you like
“Grace, the child wasn't the only thing they took from you.””
The call went dead.
