PART 14 — THE CHILD WHO WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO EXIST
The hospital room was silent.
Too silent.
I stared at the newborn in my arms.
She was tiny.
Warm.
Perfect.
And somehow…
she had just spoken my name.
“Again.”
The word echoed inside my head.
Again.
I looked at Diego.
He was sitting beside me, frozen.
“You heard that.”
He nodded.
“What did she mean?”
“I don’t know.”
I looked at the baby.
She opened her eyes.
Those eyes were familiar.
Far too familiar.
Adriana’s eyes.
I felt my heart begin pounding.
“Diego…”
“Yes?”
“What year is it?”
He frowned.
“Laura, what are you talking about?”
“What year?”
He told me.
My blood turned cold.
It was the year everything had started.
The year before the first tragedy.
The year before my life had fallen apart.
The year before Project Zero was supposed to exist.
I looked toward the clock.
The numbers were moving backward.
19
18
17
Diego stood.
“What is happening?”
“I don’t know.”
The baby suddenly began crying.
I held her closer.
“It’s okay.”
The crying stopped.
Instantly.
Then she whispered:
“Twenty-four.”
I froze.
“What did you say?”
Diego stared at the baby.
“What did she say?”
I looked down.
Her eyes were open.
She was staring directly at me.
“Twenty-four.”
The clock stopped.
00:00
Every light in the hospital went out.
Then—
A voice came through the speaker.
My voice.
But older.
Terrified.
“Laura…”
I stepped backward.
Diego grabbed my arm.
“Don’t answer.”
The voice continued.
“Don’t let them take the baby.”
I stared at the ceiling.
“Who are you?”
Silence.
Then:
“I’m you.”
My heart stopped.
The baby began crying again.
The hospital lights returned.
But something was different.
The room was empty.
The nurses were gone.
The doctor was gone.
The hallway outside was empty.
Even the hospital machines had stopped.
I looked at Diego.
“Where is everyone?”
He didn’t answer.
“Diego?”
He slowly walked toward the door.
“Don’t.”
He opened it.
The hallway was completely dark.
“There’s nobody here.”
I held the baby tighter.
Then I noticed something.
A red number had appeared above the door.
SUBJECT 24
I stared.
“No.”
Diego looked at it.
“That’s impossible.”
I whispered:
“She’s not supposed to exist.”
The baby opened her eyes.
And smiled.
We left the hospital through the emergency staircase.
Nobody stopped us.
Nobody followed us.
It was as though the entire building had been abandoned in a single second.
Outside, the city looked normal.
Cars moved.
People walked.
Lights were on.
But something felt wrong.
Everyone was looking at us.
Not at me.
Not at Diego.
At the baby.
A woman walking past stopped suddenly.
She stared at the child.
Then whispered:
“That’s her.”
Another man turned.
“Subject Twenty-Four.”
I grabbed Diego’s hand.
“Run.”
We ran.
We didn’t stop until we reached the parking lot.
Diego unlocked the car.
I climbed inside.
The baby was still quiet.
Too quiet.
Diego started the engine.
“Where are we going?”
I looked at him.
“My mother’s house.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s the only person who might remember.”
He stared at me.
“Remember what?”
I looked down at the baby.
“Everything.”
My mother’s house looked exactly as I remembered.
Same front porch.
Same curtains.
Same flowerpot beside the door.
I knocked.
Nothing.
I knocked again.
“Mom?”
No answer.
Diego checked the windows.
“She’s not here.”
I tried the door.
It opened.
The house was dark.
“Mom?”
We stepped inside.
Everything was untouched.
Her handbag sat on the table.
Her keys were beside it.
A cup of tea was still warm.
Diego looked around.
“She was here.”
I nodded.
Then I heard a noise upstairs.
A drawer opening.
I held the baby close.
“Stay behind me.”
Diego shook his head.
“No.”
“I’ll go.”
“We go together.”
We climbed the stairs.
The noise stopped.
At the end of the hallway was my mother’s bedroom.
The door was open.
Inside, everything had been turned upside down.
Drawers emptied.
Clothes scattered.
Pictures smashed.
I walked toward the bed.
There was a note.
My name was written on it.
LAURA.
I opened it.
Only one sentence.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LET THE TIMELINE END.
My blood ran cold.
Diego looked over my shoulder.
“Who wrote it?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I already knew.
A second piece of paper was beneath it.
I picked it up.
This one contained a photograph.
My mother.
Standing beside a man.
A man I recognized.
My grandfather.
But they weren’t old.
The photograph had been taken decades earlier.
And between them was a baby.
I looked at the baby.
It was me.
My hands started shaking.
“No…”
Diego took the photograph.
“What?”
I pointed.
“That’s me.”
He looked confused.
“Yes.”
“No.”
I looked closer.
“Look at the date.”
He did.
His expression changed.
“That’s before you were born.”
“Exactly.”
Silence.
Then I heard a voice behind us.
“You finally noticed.”
I turned.
My mother stood in the doorway.
Alive.
But crying.
“Mom?”
She looked at the baby in my arms.
Then immediately locked the bedroom door.
“Close the curtains.”
“Why?”
“Now!”
Diego ran to the window.
He pulled the curtains shut.
My mother rushed toward me.
“Give me the baby.”
I stepped backward.
“No.”
“Laura.”
“Who is she?”
My mother stared at the child.
Her face collapsed.
“She’s the one we lost.”
“What?”
“The baby from the second pregnancy.”
My heart stopped.
“You told me that pregnancy ended in miscarriage.”
My mother shook her head.
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“Because your father told me to.”
I felt sick.
“You had another child?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
My mother looked at the baby.
“Your sister.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“But she was a miscarriage.”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
My mother whispered:
“They took her.”
I looked down.
The baby was sleeping.
“They took her?”
“After she was born.”
“Who?”
“The clinic.”
My mother sat down.
“They said she was stillborn.”
“And you believed them?”
“I was young.”
“You’re my mother!”
“I know!”
She began crying.
“I knew something was wrong.”
“What did you do?”
“I searched.”
“For how long?”
“Twenty years.”
My heart broke.
“Then you found her?”
My mother nodded.
“Not exactly.”
She looked at me.
“We found her genetic record.”
“What did it say?”
She whispered:
“Subject Twenty-Four.”
The baby opened her eyes.
My mother stepped backward.
“Oh God.”
“What?”
“She remembers.”
“Remembers what?”
My mother looked terrified.
“The first time she died.”
I stared.
“She hasn’t died.”
My mother shook her head.
“Not this time.”
The room went cold.
“Then what do you mean?”
My mother looked at me.
“That’s why they are coming.”
A car stopped outside.
Then another.
Then another.
My mother looked through the curtain.
Her face went white.
“They found us.”
Diego stepped toward the window.
“How many?”
“Six.”
“No.”
“Eight.”
My mother whispered:
“More.”
I looked at the baby.
She was awake now.
Looking toward the door.
Then she smiled.
“They’re here.”
I froze.
“You know them?”
The baby didn’t answer.
Instead, she pointed toward the bedroom wall.
There was nothing there.
Then the wall began vibrating.
My mother screamed.
“Back!”
The plaster cracked.
A hidden door appeared.
I stared.
“What is that?”
My mother grabbed my arm.
“The old room.”
“What old room?”
“The room your grandfather built.”
The door opened.
Inside was a narrow staircase.
My mother looked at me.
“Take the baby.”
I did.
“Where are we going?”
“Underground.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s where Project Zero began.”
The staircase seemed endless.
We descended for several minutes.
Finally, we reached a massive steel door.
My mother entered a code.
The door opened.
I stopped breathing.
The room beyond was enormous.
Machines covered the walls.
Old computers.
Medical equipment.
Hundreds of files.
And dozens of photographs.
My photographs.
Adriana’s photographs.
My father’s.
Diego’s.
Samuel’s.
Elias’s.
And people I had never seen.
My mother walked toward the center.
“This is the original facility.”
I looked around.
“But it was destroyed.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“The public facility was destroyed.”
“What about this one?”
“It was never found.”
Diego stared at the equipment.
“Who built this?”
My mother looked at him.
“Your grandfather.”
I turned toward her.
“Why?”
“Because he wasn’t trying to create a cure.”
“Then what was he creating?”
My mother pointed toward the baby.
“A replacement.”
I felt a chill.
“For what?”
“For humanity.”
Silence.
I looked at the baby.
“What does that mean?”
My mother whispered:
“He believed human beings were too unpredictable.”
“So he wanted to replace us?”
“Yes.”
“With genetically controlled people?”
“Yes.”
“And I was part of it?”
“You were the first successful carrier.”
“And the baby?”
“The final version.”
I looked down.
The baby’s eyes were open.
She was watching the machines.
Then she whispered:
“Not final.”
My mother froze.
“What did she say?”
The baby pointed toward the far end of the room.
“There.”
I looked.
There was a glass chamber.
Inside was a little girl.
Maybe seven years old.
She looked exactly like Adriana.
My blood froze.
“No…”
The girl opened her eyes.
She looked at me.
And smiled.
“Mom.”
I dropped the baby.
Diego caught her before she hit the floor.
I ran toward the glass chamber.
“Adriana?”
The girl smiled.
“Yes.”
My entire body shook.
“No.”
She placed her hand against the glass.
“You left me.”
I touched the glass.
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I came back.”
“Too late.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“Where is my daughter?”
The girl smiled.
“She is your daughter.”
I looked at the baby in Diego’s arms.
“Then who are you?”
The girl answered:
“I’m the one you abandoned.”
I stepped backward.
My mother whispered:
“Oh God.”
“What?”
She pointed toward another monitor.
A file appeared.
SUBJECT ZERO — ORIGINAL
Then:
SUBJECT ZERO — REPLACEMENT
Then:
SUBJECT ZERO — CURRENT
Three versions.
Three girls.
Three timelines.
I stared at them.
My mother said:
“Your grandfather never created one Subject Zero.”
“How many?”
She looked at the screen.
“Three.”
My heart stopped.
“Where is the third?”
A voice answered from behind me.
“Right here.”
I turned.
A woman stood in the doorway.
Older.
Beautiful.
Terrifyingly familiar.
She looked at me.
Then at the baby.
Then at the little girl inside the chamber.
Finally, she smiled.
“I’ve been waiting for all of you.”
My mother whispered:
“Evelyn.”
The woman smiled.
“Yes.”
I stared.
“Who are you?”
She answered:
“Your grandmother.”
I froze.
“But my grandmother died.”
“No.”
She smiled.
“Your grandmother in this timeline died.”
She stepped closer.
“I am from the timeline before this one.”
Diego whispered:
“Another timeline…”
Evelyn nodded.
“Twenty-three of them.”
I stared at her.
“Why are you here?”
“To finish what your grandfather started.”
“What did he start?”
She looked at the baby.
“Creating a world without human choice.”
I held my breath.
“And what does she have to do with it?”
Evelyn smiled.
“She is the key.”
“To what?”
“To the final reset.”
The lights suddenly turned red.
A siren began.
The screen displayed:
SUBJECT 24 ACTIVATED.
Then:
SUBJECT ZERO LOCATED.
Then:
ALL TIMELINES CONNECTED.
My mother grabbed my hand.
“Laura.”
“What?”
“We have to destroy this place.”
Evelyn laughed.
“You can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s already too late.”
The doors above us slammed shut.
One by one, the monitors came alive.
Every screen showed a different version of my life.
Me as a child.
Me as a teenager.
Me marrying Diego.
Me pregnant.
Me running from the clinic.
Me holding Adriana.
Me losing my father.
Me discovering the program.
Me standing in this room.
Twenty-three versions.
Then a twenty-fourth screen appeared.
It showed something I had never seen before.
The future.
A city burning.
People running.
Machines covering the streets.
And millions of children standing in perfect rows.
At the center stood the baby.
Older.
Maybe eighteen.
And beside her…
stood me.
But I wasn’t protecting her.
I was kneeling before her.
She was holding a crown.
The words appeared:
THE AGE OF SUBJECT ZERO
I stared in horror.
“No.”
The baby in Diego’s arms began crying.
The older girl inside the chamber smiled.
Evelyn whispered:
“Now you understand.”
I looked at her.
“Understand what?”
“You aren’t trying to stop Project Zero.”
She pointed at me.
“You are Project Zero.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
She smiled.
“And your daughter…”
She pointed toward the baby.
“…is the one who will decide whether humanity survives.”
The room shook.
The steel doors began opening.
Voices echoed from the staircase.
People were coming.
Armed.
Dozens of them.
My mother grabbed my hand.
“Laura, we have to go.”
I looked at the baby.
Then at the girl in the chamber.
Then at the screens.
And finally at Evelyn.
“Who is the father?”
Everyone went silent.
Evelyn smiled.
“You still don’t know?”
My heart stopped.
She looked at Diego.
He stepped backward.
“No.”
I stared at him.
“Diego…”
He shook his head.
“Laura, I swear—”
Evelyn interrupted.
“He isn’t the father.”
My blood froze.
“Then who is?”
She pointed toward the chamber.
The little girl inside smiled.
And whispered:
“Grandpa.”
I turned toward my mother.
She was crying.
My father had lied.
Diego had lied.
My entire family had lied.
Then the chamber opened.
The seven-year-old girl stepped out.
She walked toward me.
And when she reached me…
she looked into my eyes and whispered:
“Mom, we don’t have much time.”
I grabbed her shoulders.
“Who are you?”
She smiled.
“I already told you.”
“Tell me again.”
She leaned closer.
“I am the daughter you haven’t had yet.”
My heart stopped.
The baby began crying.
The lights went out.
And somewhere deep beneath the facility…
a machine started counting down.
10
9
8
My mother screamed:
“RUN!”
7
6
The girl grabbed my hand.
5
The baby reached toward me.
4
I grabbed both children.
3
The doors exploded open.
2
Evelyn smiled.
1
And the entire facility disappeared in a flash of white light.
When I opened my eyes…
I was standing in my childhood home.
But everything was different.
The walls.
The furniture.
The photographs.
Even the people.
A young woman was standing in the kitchen.
She looked at me.
Then at the two children in my arms.
And screamed.
Because the woman was me.
Twenty-nine years younger.
And she whispered:
“Who are you?”
I couldn’t answer.
Because behind her stood my grandfather.
Alive.
Young.
Smiling.
And beside him…
was the man I had been told was dead.
The creator of Project Zero.
He looked at me.
Then at the children.
And said:
“Finally.”
I stared at him.
“Finally what?”
He smiled.
“Both of my daughters have returned.”
My blood turned cold.
Then he looked at the baby.
“And now…”
His smile disappeared.
“…we can finally begin.”
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 15…
Click Here to continuous Read Full Ending Story👉PART(15): – My husband had a vasectomy, yet two months later…
