PART 6 — “MY DAUGHTER”

“After twenty-nine years, my daughter…”
Dr. Samuel Varela’s voice came through the phone.
“…we finally meet.”
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t even breathe.
The café around me seemed to disappear.
The conversations.
The clinking cups.
The traffic outside.
Everything faded.
There was only one sentence in my head.
My daughter.
I looked through the window.
He was standing across the street.
Watching me.
Not with anger.
Not with hatred.
With something much more disturbing.
Recognition.
He had known me for years.
And I had never known him.
Valeria grabbed my wrist.
“Laura. Don’t speak to him.”

But I couldn’t look away.

Dr. Varela lifted his phone slightly.

He was still on the call.

“You’ve grown into your mother’s eyes,” he said.

My stomach turned.

“How do you know my mother?”

He smiled faintly.

“Because I knew her before you were born.”

I tightened my grip on the phone.

“Are you my father?”

Silence.

Then he answered:

“Biologically?”

My heart pounded.

“Yes.”

He took a slow breath.

“Yes.”

The word hit me harder than I expected.

My biological father.

The stranger from the photograph.

The doctor who had been connected to my birth.

The man who had apparently been watching me for twenty-nine years.

I looked at Paula.

She was crying.

Valeria leaned closer.

“Hang up.”

I shook my head.

“No.”

Dr. Varela spoke again.

“You deserve the truth.”

I laughed bitterly.

“Everyone keeps saying that.”

“Then let me give it to you.”

“Why did you watch me?”

“I didn’t.”

I stared at him.

“You’ve been following me.”

“No.”

“Then why were you at my wedding?”

“Because I was invited.”

“By whom?”

“Your father.”

I froze.

“My father?”

“Your father knew who I was.”

“Then why didn’t he tell me?”

“Because your mother asked him not to.”

I looked at Paula.

She whispered:

“That’s what I told you.”

I turned back toward the window.

“Why did you pay Diego?”

Dr. Varela’s expression changed.

“Diego told you that?”

“Yes.”

“He misunderstood the arrangement.”

“What arrangement?”

“You need to understand something, Laura.”

His voice became serious.

“Your marriage was never supposed to be destroyed.”

I frowned.

“Then why did you pay him?”

“I didn’t pay him to leave you.”

“Then what did you pay him for?”

“To protect you.”

I almost laughed.

“By making him betray me?”

“He betrayed you because he wanted to.”

My jaw tightened.

“You’re lying.”

“No.”

“Then why did you call me your daughter?”

“Because you are.”

“And what do you want from me?”

For the first time, he hesitated.

“I want what your mother took.”

My heart stopped.

“What did she take?”

“The embryos.”

Silence.

I felt confused.

“What embryos?”

He looked through the window.

“You’ve been carrying them.”

My blood went cold.

“What?”

He continued.

“The twins.”

I couldn’t breathe.

Valeria grabbed my shoulder.

“Laura, don’t listen to him.”

But I was listening.

Every word.

Dr. Varela said:

“The children you’re carrying are not ordinary.”

I stared at him.

“They’re my children.”

“Yes.”

“And Diego’s.”

He didn’t answer.

That silence frightened me more than anything.

“Answer me.”

He finally said:

“Diego is not their biological father.”

The world stopped.

I looked at Valeria.

She had gone completely still.

Paula covered her mouth.

“No…”

I whispered:

“No.”

Dr. Varela continued.

“You were implanted with genetic material years ago.”

My mind couldn’t process it.

“That’s impossible.”

“You were born from the same program.”

“What program?”

He looked at me.

“A research program your mother was part of.”

I felt sick.

“Research?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did my mother say it was ordinary IVF?”

“Because she was told to say that.”

I immediately called my mother.

She answered after one ring.

“Laura?”

“Mom.”

My voice trembled.

“Did Dr. Varela just tell me the twins are connected to the fertility program?”

Silence.

“Mom?”

She began crying.

“Where are you?”

“The café.”

“Leave.”

“Answer me!”

She whispered:

“He’s telling the truth.”

I froze.

“What?”

“He’s telling you the truth.”

My hand shook.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was afraid.”

“Afraid of him?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

My mother whispered:

“Your father.”

I stared at nothing.

“My father?”

“He made me promise.”

“Why?”

“Because he discovered what they had done.”

“What had they done?”

She was crying too hard to speak.

“Mom!”

Finally she said:

“They didn’t use an anonymous donor.”

My heart pounded.

“They used Samuel.”

I closed my eyes.

“So he is my biological father.”

“Yes.”

I swallowed.

“And the twins?”

She didn’t answer.

“Mom.”

“They may have used the same genetic material.”

My knees weakened.

I sat down.

Valeria immediately moved beside me.

Dr. Varela was still watching from across the street.

He said:

“Now you understand.”

I looked at him.

“No.”

He shook his head.

“You understand almost nothing.”

“What do you want?”

“The truth.”

“About what?”

“Why you were chosen.”

“Chosen for what?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he said:

“Ask your mother what happened eleven years before your wedding.”

Then he ended the call.

I stared at the screen.

“What happened eleven years before my wedding?”

Valeria immediately stood.

“We’re going to find out.”

But when we looked through the window again, Dr. Varela was gone.

The black SUV was gone too.

Only the empty street remained.

---

We returned to my mother’s house.

She was sitting at the kitchen table.

Her face looked older than it had that morning.

She knew we were coming.

When I walked through the door, she looked at me.

“I should have told you.”

I didn’t answer.

Valeria placed the documents on the table.

“Start from the beginning.”

My mother nodded.

She took a long breath.

“Before you were born, I had several failed pregnancies.”

I listened.

“Your father and I wanted a child desperately.”

She looked down.

“We went to the clinic.”

“Dr. Varela?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“At first, everything seemed normal.”

“And then?”

“They offered us a special procedure.”

“What kind?”

“They called it an experimental fertility treatment.”

I frowned.

“Experimental?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you agree?”

“We were desperate.”

She wiped her eyes.

“They told us the procedure had a higher success rate.”

“And?”

“I became pregnant.”

“With me.”

“Yes.”

“What did they tell you about the donor?”

“They said the genetic material came from an anonymous donor.”

I looked at Valeria.

She was taking notes.

“Did you sign anything?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still have the paperwork?”

My mother shook her head.

“Your father took everything.”

“What happened to the records?”

“He hid them.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

I looked at her.

“You must know something.”

She hesitated.

Then:

“There was a second pregnancy.”

My heart stopped.

“What?”

“After you were born.”

I frowned.

“You mean I had a sibling?”

My mother shook her head.

“No.”

“Then?”

“I became pregnant again.”

My heart pounded.

“What happened?”

“I miscarried.”

My mother began crying.

“Your father was devastated.”

I reached across the table.

“What did the doctors say?”

“They said the pregnancy was abnormal.”

“Abnormal how?”

“They said the fetus had a genetic condition.”

I looked at Valeria.

She was silent.

My mother continued.

“After that, your father became suspicious.”

“About what?”

“He requested the complete medical records.”

“And they refused.”

“Yes.”

“Then what did he do?”

“He hired someone to investigate.”

“Who?”

My mother looked at me.

“Dr. Varela.”

I stared.

“What?”

“Yes.”

“He investigated himself?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

“A private investigator.”

“What’s his name?”

My mother closed her eyes.

“I don’t remember.”

“You do.”

She whispered:

“Thomas.”

I waited.

“Thomas what?”

“Thomas Reed.”

The name meant nothing.

Until Valeria suddenly looked up.

“Laura…”

“What?”

“That’s the same name on one of the financial records.”

My heart sank.

“The payments?”

She nodded.

“Thomas Reed received money from the company connected to the clinic.”

My mother covered her mouth.

“No.”

Valeria stood.

“This is bigger than we thought.”

My phone buzzed.

A message.

Unknown number.

Thomas Reed is dead.

I stared at it.

Another message appeared.

He died three days ago.

Then:

Before he died, he left something for you.

I looked at Valeria.

She took a photograph of the screen.

“Where?”

A location appeared.

An abandoned storage facility.

“That’s where we’re going,” I said.

Valeria shook her head.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Because this is exactly how people get hurt.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We contact the police.”

I shook my head.

“By the time they get a warrant, whatever is there could disappear.”

Valeria looked frustrated.

“Laura…”

“I’ve spent twenty-nine years being kept in the dark.”

I looked at my mother.

“I’m done.”

---

Two hours later, we were standing outside the storage facility.

The building looked abandoned.

Rusty metal doors.

Broken windows.

No security lights.

No cars.

Nothing.

Valeria checked her phone.

“The location is correct.”

I looked at the number on the message.

Unit 317.

We walked inside.

The corridor smelled of dust and old paper.

Unit 317 was at the end.

The lock was already broken.

Valeria stopped.

“That’s not good.”

I nodded.

“Someone has been here.”

We opened the door.

Inside was almost nothing.

A desk.

A chair.

Several boxes.

And a large metal cabinet.

I walked toward the desk.

There was an envelope.

My name was written on it.

LAURA.

My hands trembled.

I opened it.

Inside was a letter.

I read:

Laura,

If you’re reading this, I’m already dead.

I spent twenty-two years trying to uncover the truth about your birth.

I failed.

But I discovered something they never wanted you to know.

You were not the only child created from that program.

There were twelve.

Eleven disappeared.

You survived.

I stopped reading.

My breathing became shallow.

“Twelve?”

Valeria took the letter.

Her eyes widened.

She read the next paragraph.

The children were not created for ordinary fertility treatment.

They were part of a genetic research project.

Each child carried a specific combination of genetic markers.

The clinic called them “subjects.”

Your mother thought she was carrying a baby.

She didn’t know she was carrying an experiment.

My stomach turned.

“No.”

Valeria kept reading.

Samuel Varela wasn’t the director.

He was only the medical face of the operation.

The real person behind it was someone else.

I looked at her.

“Who?”

She turned the page.

There was no answer.

Only a name.

Elias Varela.

I frowned.

“Who is Elias?”

Valeria stared at the page.

“I don’t know.”

Then we heard a sound.

A door closing somewhere outside.

We froze.

Footsteps.

Someone was walking toward the unit.

Valeria whispered:

“Turn off your phone.”

We did.

The footsteps stopped directly outside.

The door began to open.

I held my breath.

A man entered.

He looked around.

Then he saw us.

He froze.

Valeria immediately stepped forward.

“Who are you?”

The man didn’t answer.

He reached into his coat.

I thought he had a weapon.

Instead, he pulled out another envelope.

He placed it on the floor.

Then he ran.

Valeria chased him.

“Stop!”

But by the time she reached the corridor, he was gone.

She returned.

“What was in the envelope?”

I picked it up.

Inside was a photograph.

My stomach dropped.

It showed twelve babies.

Newborns.

Each had a number.

I stared at them.

Then I saw my own number.

07.

Underneath it was a note.

SUBJECT 07 — SUCCESSFUL TRANSFER.

My blood ran cold.

“That’s me.”

Valeria nodded.

Then she turned the photograph over.

There was another message.

SUBJECT 07 WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE.

I stared at the words.

“What does that mean?”

Valeria didn’t answer.

Then I saw something else.

A second photograph.

It showed the same twelve babies.

But eleven numbers had been crossed out.

Only one remained.

07.

I felt sick.

“Where are the others?”

Valeria shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

A sound came from behind the metal cabinet.

We both turned.

Something was moving.

Valeria grabbed my arm.

“Stay behind me.”

The cabinet door suddenly swung open.

A man fell out.

He was unconscious.

We rushed toward him.

I recognized him.

My heart stopped.

It was the man from the photograph.

The man who had been following us.

The same man who had stood beside Dr. Varela.

Valeria checked his pulse.

“Alive.”

I looked at his face.

“Who is he?”

He slowly opened his eyes.

He looked directly at me.

Then he whispered:

“Subject Seven.”

I froze.

He grabbed my wrist.

“Don’t trust Varela.”

Then he passed out again.

Valeria stared at me.

“Laura…”

I looked at the unconscious man.

“What?”

“He knows who you are.”

“I know.”

“No.”

She shook her head.

“He called you Subject Seven.”

My heart pounded.

“Maybe because of the files.”

Valeria looked at the man’s clothing.

“He wasn’t here to hurt us.”

“How do you know?”

She pointed.

There was blood on his sleeve.

“Someone else hurt him.”

Then we heard sirens.

Police.

Valeria looked at me.

“We need to leave.”

“But—”

“Now.”

We ran.

Outside, the black SUV was waiting.

The same SUV.

The passenger door opened.

A voice shouted:

“Laura!”

I stopped.

It was Diego.

He stepped out.

His face was covered in blood.

“Get in!”

I stared at him.

“What happened to you?”

“There’s no time.”

“Where’s the police?”

“Not here for us.”

He grabbed my hand.

“Laura, listen to me.”

“What?”

He looked terrified.

“They have your mother.”

My blood froze.

“What?”

“Paula called me.”

“Where is my mother?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

“No!”

He held up his phone.

There was a photograph.

My mother.

Bound to a chair.

My heart shattered.

“No…”

Diego whispered:

“They took her thirty minutes ago.”

I looked at the photograph.

There was writing beneath it.

BRING SUBJECT SEVEN.

I looked at Diego.

“Who took her?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

I grabbed his shirt.

“Who?”

He finally said:

“Elias.”

My heart stopped.

“The man from the letter?”

Diego nodded.

“Elias Varela.”

I stared at him.

“Who is he?”

Diego looked at me.

“Samuel’s brother.”

I froze.

“Where is he?”

Diego opened the passenger door.

“That’s the problem.”

“What?”

“He’s been dead for twenty years.”

I stared at him.

“Then who has my mother?”

Diego’s face went pale.

“I don’t know.”

My phone rang.

Unknown number.

I answered.

A distorted voice spoke.

“Laura.”

I recognized the voice.

Samuel.

“Where is my mother?”

“Safe.”

“Give her back.”

“Come to the old clinic.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s time you learned what Subject Seven was created to do.”

I clenched my jaw.

“If you hurt her—”

“I won’t.”

“Then prove it.”

There was a pause.

Then he said:

“You have until midnight.”

The call ended.

I looked at Diego.

Then Valeria.

Then the photograph of my mother.

And suddenly I understood.

This was no longer about my marriage.

It wasn’t even about my birth.

It was about why I had survived when eleven others had disappeared.

And somewhere inside the old clinic was the answer.

---

At 11:42 p.m., we arrived.

The building was abandoned.

Windows boarded.

Doors chained.

But one entrance was open.

We walked inside.

The smell hit me immediately.

Antiseptic.

Old medicine.

Something metallic.

My stomach turned.

Valeria whispered:

“Stay close.”

We moved through the dark hallway.

Room after room.

Old examination tables.

Broken equipment.

Empty cabinets.

Then we reached a room with a glass wall.

Inside were twelve metal beds.

Twelve.

Exactly twelve.

Above each bed was a number.

My eyes stopped at seven.

There was a file on the bed.

My name was on it.

LAURA.

I opened it.

The first page contained my birth information.

The second contained genetic information.

The third contained something that made my hands shake.

PROJECT PURPOSE: DEVELOPMENT OF A HUMAN GENETIC MATCH CAPABLE OF REPAIRING A SPECIFIC HEREDITARY CONDITION.

I stared.

“Repairing what?”

Valeria read over my shoulder.

Then her face changed.

“Laura…”

“What?”

She pointed to the bottom of the page.

There was a line.

SUBJECT 07 DEMONSTRATES UNIQUE COMPATIBILITY.

“Compatibility with what?”

A voice answered from behind us.

“With me.”

We turned.

Samuel Varela stood in the doorway.

He wasn’t smiling anymore.

He looked exhausted.

Almost broken.

“Where is my mother?”

“Alive.”

“Bring her here.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t have her.”

I stepped toward him.

“Then who does?”

He looked at the file.

“Elias.”

“Your brother?”

His face went pale.

“Yes.”

“But he’s dead.”

Samuel shook his head.

“No.”

I stared.

“What?”

“His death was staged.”

Silence.

“Why?”

“Because he was the one who created the program.”

I felt cold.

“And you?”

“I tried to stop him.”

“You watched me.”

“To protect you.”

“You lied to me.”

“To keep you alive.”

“You let Diego destroy my marriage.”

Samuel looked down.

“I made a mistake.”

“What mistake?”

“I believed the program was over.”

I stared at him.

“What does Elias want from me?”

Samuel’s eyes filled with tears.

Then he said:

“The twins.”

I froze.

“Why?”

“Because they are the first successful second-generation match.”

My heart stopped.

“Match for what?”

Samuel looked at my stomach.

“For the disease Elias has been trying to cure for twenty-nine years.”

I didn’t understand.

“What disease?”

Samuel whispered:

“The disease that killed the other eleven children.”

Silence.

“And the disease…”

He looked directly at me.

“…that your mother believes your father died from.”

I shook my head.

“My father didn’t have that disease.”

Samuel stared at me.

“He did.”

“No.”

“He was sick for years.”

“No.”

“He didn’t die naturally.”

My heart stopped.

“What?”

Samuel whispered:

“He was murdered.”

I stepped backward.

“By whom?”

Samuel looked toward the dark hallway.

Then he whispered:

“Elias.”

Suddenly, every light in the building switched on.

A voice echoed through the speakers.

Deep.

Calm.

Almost amused.

“Samuel.”

Samuel froze.

The voice continued.

“You were always terrible at keeping secrets.”

I looked around.

“Who is that?”

Samuel grabbed my arm.

“Run.”

The voice laughed.

“Don’t bother.”

The doors slammed shut.

Every exit locked.

And then the voice spoke again.

“Welcome home, Subject Seven.”

A screen at the end of the room flickered on.

A man’s face appeared.

Older.

Gray hair.

Cold eyes.

I stared at the screen.

I had never seen him before.

But Samuel whispered his name.

“Elias.”

The man smiled.

Then he said:

“Laura…”

He paused.

“…your mother is waiting for you.”

The screen changed.

A live video appeared.

My mother was sitting in a chair.

Alive.

Terrified.

And standing behind her was a man.

He leaned toward the camera.

And I saw his face clearly.

It was the same man who had been beside Diego in the photograph.

The same man who had appeared in the storage facility.

The same man who had been following me.

But he wasn’t Elias.

He was someone else.

He smiled.

Then Elias spoke from the screen:

“You’ve spent your whole life looking for your father.”

The man behind my mother stepped forward.

“And now…”

He removed his glasses.

My blood froze.

Because I recognized him.

He was the man who had raised me.

My father’s brother.

The uncle I had trusted my entire life.

The man everyone believed had died fifteen years ago.

But he was standing behind my mother.

Alive.

And he looked directly into the camera.

Then he said:

“Hello, Laura.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Click Here to continuous Read​​​​ Full Ending Story👉PART(7): – My husband had a vasectomy, yet two months later…