Chapter 6 - The Girl Who Was Erased
The words appeared on the screen.
The real Elena Carter is not the girl they think she is.
I stared at the sentence.
Again.
And again.
Waiting for it to change.
Waiting for someone to laugh.
Waiting for someone to tell me this was another cruel trick.
Nobody did.
The morgue remained silent.
The kind of silence that came after something broke.
Something inside me.
"Explain."
My voice sounded different.
Colder.
The woman wearing my mother's face looked at me.
Her eyes filled with pain.
"I knew this day would come."
I turned toward her.
"You knew?"
She looked away.
That answer hurt more than anything else.
"You all knew."
Nobody spoke.
Adrian looked down.
Marianne closed her eyes.
And suddenly, the truth I had been chasing felt worse than the lies.
Because everyone around me had been carrying it.
Everyone except me.
I pointed at the photograph on the screen.
"Who is that girl?"
The woman stepped closer.
"Elena..."
"Who is she?"
My voice cracked.
"I deserve to know."
Adrian looked at me.
"You do."
He slowly climbed out of the coffin.
Every movement seemed painful.
But he forced himself to stand.
"The girl in that picture is you."
I shook my head.
"No."
"Yes."
"I don't remember that."
"I know."
The words made my chest tighten.
"Why don't I remember?"
Nobody answered.
Then Adrian said:
"Because they made sure you wouldn't."
The room felt smaller.
"Who?"
His eyes moved toward the camera.
"The Hawthornes."
The woman beside me whispered:
"Not all of them."
Adrian looked at her.
"Don't protect him."
She became silent.
I looked between them.
"Who are you talking about?"
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"My father."
The name felt heavy.
The entire estate belonged to him.
The portraits.
The money.
The secrets.
The silence.
Everything.
"Charles Hawthorne."
I had heard the name before.
Everyone had.
A businessman.
A philanthropist.
A man whose face appeared in magazines.
A man people described as generous.
A man who donated millions to hospitals.
The kind of person nobody questioned.
Adrian looked at the screen.
"The world sees him as a man who saves lives."
A bitter smile crossed his face.
"But they don't see the people he destroys."
The woman wearing my mother's face looked at me.
"Your mother found out what he was doing."
"What was he doing?"
She hesitated.
Then:
"Creating new identities."
I frowned.
"What?"
Marianne spoke quietly.
"People disappeared."
She looked at the coffins around us.
"Then someone else appeared."
My stomach turned.
"You mean..."
"They erased people."
The words hung in the air.
Adrian continued.
"Names."
"Records."
"Memories."
My breathing became shallow.
"Memories?"
He nodded.
"That was your mother's specialty."
I froze.
"My mother?"
"No."
His expression softened.
"Your mother was the person who discovered it."
The woman stepped closer.
"She was a neurologist."
I stared at her.
My mother had been a nurse.
That was what I had always been told.
She worked at a small clinic.
She helped people.
She came home tired.
She sang while cooking.
That was the woman I remembered.
But now...
Every memory felt like a photograph with someone else's face painted over it.
"She wasn't a nurse."
The woman shook her head.
"She was researching memory preservation."
I looked at Adrian.
"And Hawthorne used her work?"
"Yes."
The answer was immediate.
"He wasn't trying to heal people."
A pause.
"He was trying to control them."
A cold feeling moved through me.
I looked again at the photograph.
The little girl holding my mother's hand.
"Why was I there?"
Nobody answered.
Then Marianne reached into her coat.
She pulled out another envelope.
Different from the others.
Older.
More damaged.
She held it toward me.
"Your mother left this for you."
I didn't take it.
"Why didn't you give it to me before?"
Her eyes filled with regret.
"Because I couldn't find you."
I frowned.
"What?"
"You disappeared."
The room went silent.
"I was right here."
"No."
Marianne shook her head.
"You weren't."
I felt my heartbeat slow.
"What are you talking about?"
She looked at Adrian.
Then back at me.
"Elena Carter disappeared twelve years ago."
The words made no sense.
"I was there."
"No."
She whispered.
"You were somewhere else."
My hands started shaking.
"Who am I?"
Nobody answered.
That was the first time I truly became afraid.
Not because someone was hunting me.
Not because I was trapped.
But because I no longer knew the person I was trying to save.
My entire life.
My name.
My memories.
Everything.
Maybe it wasn't mine.
The woman who looked like my mother reached out.
I stepped back.
She stopped immediately.
"I'm sorry."
I stared at her.
"For what?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
"For letting them take you."
The door suddenly slammed.
Everyone turned.
A sound came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
Many footsteps.
Adrian looked toward the exit.
"They're here."
Marianne moved quickly.
"We need to leave."
The woman grabbed my arm.
"Elena, listen to me."
I pulled away.
"No."
She stopped.
"I need answers."
"You will get them."
"When?"
She looked toward the approaching footsteps.
"When we survive."
The morgue door shook.
Someone was forcing it open.
Adrian looked at me.
"Take the key."
I looked down.
The silver key was still in my hand.
"What does it open?"
His expression changed.
A mixture of fear and hope.
"The room your mother died trying to reach."
I stared.
"My mother died trying to reach a room?"
He nodded.
"Because inside that room is the original record."
"Original record of what?"
He looked directly at me.
"The day you were born."
The door shook harder.
The lock began breaking.
My breath caught.
"I already know when I was born."
Adrian shook his head.
"No."
His voice became quieter.
"You know the date they gave you."
The door cracked.
A small line of light appeared.
Marianne grabbed my hand.
"We have seconds."
I looked at the three people around me.
A man who was supposed to be dead.
A woman who looked like my mother.
A stranger who claimed my entire life was built on a lie.
Then the door broke open.
Security guards rushed inside.
But they didn't look at Adrian.
They didn't look at Marianne.
They looked at me.
Like they had been searching for me.
One man stepped forward.
Older.
Gray hair.
Expensive suit.
Calm expression.
Everyone stopped.
Adrian's face turned pale.
"No."
I looked at him.
"Who is that?"
Adrian whispered:
"Your grandfather."
The man smiled.
Not warmly.
Not kindly.
Like someone who had finally found something that belonged to him.
"Elena."
I froze.
Because I had never met him.
But he knew exactly what to say.
"You've grown up beautifully."
The guards moved aside.
The old man stepped closer.
And then he said the words that made Adrian collapse against the coffin.
"Tell her the truth."
May you like
He looked at me.
"She was never Elena Carter."
