Checkmate

Checkmate
Vincent's POV

The moment Emma ran toward the Brooklyn Bridge, I knew I had won.

I sat in my black car three blocks away, watching her on the tiny screen of my tablet. The tracking chip I'd hidden in her shoe was working perfectly. She was running straight into my trap, just like I'd planned.

"Boss, she's almost there," said Tony through my earpiece. He was one of my men, waiting on the bridge with Detective Chen.

Wait. Detective Chen wasn't really Detective Chen. She was another one of my prototypes—my best one yet. She looked exactly like the real detective, talked like her, even had her memories. The real Detective Chen was tied up in my basement, unconscious but alive. I'd needed her for a few hours to study her, to make sure my fake version was perfect.

"Good," I said into the microphone. "Remember, make her believe Marcus is dead. Make her cry. Make her trust you."

"Already done, boss. She's falling apart right now."

I smiled as I watched the red dot on my screen stop moving. Emma had reached the bridge. Now came the fun part.

You see, everyone thought I was just a crazy scientist who made copies of people. They thought I wanted money or power or to take over the world. But they were all wrong.

I wanted something much simpler.

I wanted to see if I could break someone completely and then rebuild them into exactly what I needed.

Emma Martinez was special. Not because she was smart or brave or pretty. She was special because she had something I'd been searching for my whole life—she had the ability to love people completely, even when they hurt her.

Three years ago, I'd watched her forgive her cousin Rebecca after Rebecca stole her boyfriend and lied about it. Emma had cried, sure, but then she'd hugged Rebecca and said, "Family is more important than anger."

That's when I knew. Emma was perfect for my experiment.

I'd spent three years building this moment. Creating Marcus Webb and making Emma fall in love with him. Creating fake versions of her friends to spy on her. Even creating the fake Rebecca who had "died" to make Emma think the danger was real.

But Rebecca wasn't dead. None of them were dead. They were all sitting in my other building across town, alive and confused, waiting for me to decide what to do with them.

The real Marcus was alive too. I'd never hurt him. I'd just made him believe he was helping Emma by staying away. He thought I was a police officer protecting her from a dangerous gang. Stupid boy.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from my fake Detective Chen: She's asking about the person who's really in charge. What should I say?

I typed back: Tell her Vincent died in jail. Make her think it's over.

This was the best part. Emma thought she was so smart, figuring out my codes and finding the real bridge. She thought she'd outsmarted me. But every step she'd taken was exactly what I wanted her to do.

I'd planted those code words with Jess on purpose. I'd let Emma "escape" from the parking lot on purpose. I'd even let her think Marcus was dead on purpose.

Because now, Emma would be angry. She would be hurt. She would want revenge.

And angry, hurt people make mistakes.

"Boss," Tony's voice crackled in my ear. "She says she wants to help with the investigation. She wants to find the person who ordered the killings."

"Perfect," I whispered. "Let her."

I started the car and drove toward my secret laboratory. It was time for phase two of my plan.

You see, I didn't want to kill Emma. Killing was boring. Anyone could kill someone. I wanted to transform her. I wanted to take this kind, trusting girl and turn her into someone who trusted no one. Someone cold. Someone like me.

And then, when she was broken enough, I would show her the truth. I would show her that everyone she loved was still alive. That all the death and pain had been fake. That she'd been living in my story the whole time, like an actor in a play who didn't know she was on stage.

Would she be relieved? Would she be angry? Would she forgive me, like she'd forgiven Rebecca?

I couldn't wait to find out.

My phone rang. It was Jess—the real Jess this time, not one of my fakes.

"Vincent, please," she sobbed. "You said you'd let my sister go if I helped you. I did everything you asked. Please."

"Your sister is fine," I said calmly. "She's sleeping in room 7B. You can pick her up tomorrow."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I can," I said, and hung up.

I pulled into the parking garage under my laboratory. Armed guards nodded at me as I walked past. They thought they worked for a tech company. They had no idea what I was really building in the floors below.

I took the elevator down to level 5—my private floor. The doors opened to reveal a huge room filled with glass tubes. Inside each tube was a body, sleeping in blue liquid.

But these weren't prototypes. These were real people.

Emma's mother. Her father. Her little brother. All alive, all sleeping, all waiting for the right moment in my plan.

I walked past them to the main computer screen. On it, I could see Emma and fake-Detective-Chen walking off the Brooklyn Bridge. Emma's face was set with determination. She thought she was going to be a hero.

"Oh, Emma," I said to the screen. "You have no idea what's coming."

That's when my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.

I opened it, expecting another update from one of my men.

Instead, I saw five words that made my blood freeze:

Vincent, I found your family.

Attached was a photo of my own mother and father, sitting tied up in chairs in a dark room. They looked terrified.

A second text came through: Now we play MY game.

My hands started shaking. This wasn't possible. No one knew about my parents. I'd hidden them years ago in a safe house in Canada. No one even knew they existed.

A third text: Emma isn't the only one who can be broken. Meet me at the place where your story started, or your parents die. You have one hour. Come alone, or they die. Tell anyone, and they die.

I stared at the phone, my perfect plan crumbling around me.

Someone had been watching me the whole time. Someone had studied me the way I'd studied Emma.

Someone was better at this game than I was.