Chapter 64 Conference Room - 4:47 PM
When I returned to the conference room, a different scene awaited me.
Vanessa sat on one side of the table. Adrian on the other. Marcus stood by the door, and Dr. Morrison had joined them, her laptop open.
"Emily," Adrian stood immediately when I entered. "Are you all right?"
"Fine," I lied. "What did I miss?"
"Dr. Morrison has been reviewing the documentation Ms. Cortez provided," Marcus said. "And we've found some... inconsistencies."
Vanessa's expression hardened. "What kind of inconsistencies?"
"The digital trail of your relationship is extensive," Dr. Morrison said carefully. "Texts, emails, photos, social media posts. Almost too extensive. Too perfect. Like someone created a comprehensive archive rather than letting a relationship develop organically."
"That's ridiculous," Vanessa said. "People document their relationships. Especially when they're engaged."
"True," Dr. Morrison agreed. "But there are anomalies. For instance, in the metadata of several photos, the timestamps don't match the claimed dates. This photo from your engagement in Paris? The metadata says it was taken in New York, not Paris. And the Eiffel Tower in the background when we enhance it shows architectural details that weren't added until this year. After your claimed engagement date."
Vanessa stared. "That's impossible."
"I'm afraid not," Dr. Morrison said. "Someone created very sophisticated false documentation of a relationship between you and Adrian. Photos edited to look authentic, emails backdated, texts fabricated. The question is did you know?"
"Know?" Vanessa's voice rose. "Are you suggesting I'm part of some conspiracy? I'm carrying Adrian's child!"
"Are you?" Dr. Ashford asked quietly, entering the room. "Ms. Cortez, would you consent to a paternity test?"
Vanessa's face flushed. "That's insulting. Of course this is Adrian's baby. We were together, we were engaged—"
"Then prove it," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "If everything you're saying is true, a paternity test will confirm it. And if it's not—" I looked at Adrian. "then we'll know you were manipulated into believing you had a relationship that never existed."
Vanessa stood abruptly. "I don't have to prove anything to you. I'm Adrian's fiancée. I'm the mother of his child. And I'm not going to stand here and be accused of lying by some random woman he barely knows—"
"Sit down, Ms. Cortez," Adrian said quietly. But his voice carried authority that made everyone in the room freeze. "Please."
Vanessa sat, but her jaw was tight with anger.
"I don't remember you," Adrian said. "I wish I did. If what you're saying is true if we really were engaged, if we really were planning a life together then I'm sorry. Genuinely sorry. Because someone took that from both of us. But I need to know the truth. And that means paternity tests, verification of timelines, independent confirmation of everything you've told us."
"And what about her?" Vanessa gestured at me. "Does she get the same scrutiny? Or are you just taking her word for everything?"
"I don't remember her either," Adrian said simply. "Not from before six months ago. But I remember meeting her as Lila James. I remember the text message, the dinner invitation, the crash. I remember waking up in the hospital and calling for her even though I didn't consciously know why. The difference is our timeline is verifiable. Yours has inconsistencies."
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears. "I can't believe this is happening. I came here thinking I thought you were alive, that we could figure this out together. I thought you'd want to know about the baby. Instead, you're treating me like a criminal."
Despite my own confusion and pain, I felt a stab of sympathy for her. If she genuinely believed she was engaged to Adrian, if someone had manipulated her memories too then she was as much a victim as any of us.
"Vanessa," I said gently. "I know this is hard. But there's something you need to understand. Adrian isn't the only victim of memory manipulation. I've been subjected to it too. My entire identity multiple identities have been fabricated, suppressed, altered. If the same people who did that to us did it to you if they made you believe you were engaged to Adrian to serve some larger purpose then we need to know. Not to hurt you, but to stop them from hurting anyone else."
Vanessa looked at me, really looked, and something in her expression softened. "You're serious. This memory manipulation it's real?"
"Very real," I confirmed. "And very dangerous."
She was quiet for a long moment. Then: "The paternity test. When can we do it?"
"Now," Dr. Ashford said. "I can draw blood from both you and Adrian, send samples to a private lab the Coles use. We'll have results in forty-eight hours."
"And if it's not Adrian's baby?" Vanessa asked quietly.
"Then we help you figure out whose it is," Adrian said. "And we find out who did this to you. Because Ms. Cortez,Vanessa if your memories were manipulated, if you were used as part of someone's plan to hurt me or stop a business merger, then you deserve answers as much as I do."
Vanessa nodded slowly. "All right. Let's do the test."
Adrian's Room - 8:23 PM
I stood at the window of Adrian's room, staring out at the dark loch, trying to process everything that had happened.
Adrian entered quietly, closing the door behind him. "She's staying the night. Marcus set her up in one of the guest rooms."
"That's good," I said, not turning around.
"Emily—"
"Do you think it's possible?" I interrupted. "That you really were engaged to her and they just erased it?"
Adrian moved to stand beside me. "I don't know. The photos are convincing, even if the metadata suggests manipulation. And she seems genuinely convinced we were together."
"She's pregnant," I said. "If that baby is yours—"
"Then I'll take responsibility," Adrian said firmly. "But Emily, that doesn't change how I feel about you. About our baby. Whatever happened in the past real or fabricated what matters is what I choose now. And I choose you."
"You can't just choose," I said, frustration bleeding into my voice. "You can't choose between two pregnant women like we're competing for your attention. This isn't we're not " I pressed my hands to my face. "God, this is such a mess."
"Yes," Adrian agreed. "It is. But we're going to figure it out. Together."
"What if you remember her?" I asked quietly. "What if in two days or two weeks, your real memories come back and you realize you loved her? That you chose her? That I'm just just the mistake you made when you couldn't remember your actual life?"
Adrian turned me to face him, his hands gentle on my shoulders. "Then we'll deal with it. But Emily—Evelyn whoever you are—I need you to understand something. Even if I did have a relationship with Vanessa that I can't remember, even if those memories come back, it doesn't erase what we've built. What we're building. The baby you're carrying is real. The choices we're making together are real. And no matter what, I'm not abandoning you."
"You might not have a choice," I said. "If she was really your fiancée, if there's a legal engagement, if her baby is yours—there are responsibilities, obligations—"
"I know," Adrian said. "But responsibilities don't have to mean romance. And obligations don't have to mean love. I can be a father to two children. I can be civil and responsible toward Vanessa. But that doesn't mean I have to be in love with her. It doesn't mean I have to stop feeling what I feel for you."
I wanted to believe him. But the image of Vanessa's face the genuine pain and confusion haunted me.
"I think I created this," I whispered. "Project Tabula Rasa. I think I'm Dr. Evelyn Grant, and I designed the program that's destroying your life. That's destroying all of our lives."
"You don't know that for certain—"
"I drew the diagrams, Adrian. Complex neural pathway maps that I shouldn't know how to draw. I'm remembering things fragments of being in a laboratory, designing something I thought would help people. And then—" My voice broke. "—and then realizing it was being weaponized. Trying to stop it. And being told it was too late."
Adrian pulled me into his arms, careful of both our injuries. "Then we'll figure out how to reverse it. You created it maybe you can undo it."
"What if I can't?" I asked into his shoulder. "What if the knowledge is too buried, too suppressed? What if I'm just broken pieces of a brilliant woman who destroyed herself trying to fix her mistake?"
"Then you're still the bravest person I've ever met," Adrian said. "And we'll find another way. Together