Chapter 22 Eva Orlova
Flora
I lay in the dark, pretending to sleep. Rafael's breathing had finally evened out beside me.
I'd told him I was Eva. And he believed me just like that.
But I didn't believe it. Not a hundred percent.
Yes, the DNA matched. Yes, I had the birthmark. Yes, I developed an allergy when Eva died.
But that didn't make me Eva. It made me something else. Something connected to her in a way I didn't understand yet.
How can two different people have the same DNA, birthmark, and appearance?
Something was wrong. I could tell.
And I was going to figure out what.
That's why I'd accepted this role.
That was why I'd agreed to become Eva. Because staying close to Rafael was the only way to uncover the truth.
He had resources, connections and access to information I could never get on my own.
And if I played along, if I pretended to be Eva, he'd let me into his world, where I would see all his secrets.
One of those secrets had to explain how my DNA matched a dead woman's.
Or had someone programmed me to be Eva? Had someone altered my life just to fit Eva's?
Was that even possible?
If it was, then it means I am just a pawn in game I don't even know exist.
It means someone was playing Rafael.
I waited until Rafael was deeply asleep. His chest rose and fell steadily. I could hear the soft sound of his breathing.
I carefully slipped out of bed, my bare feet silent on the plush carpet. I tiptoed to the door and opened it slowly, careful not to make any noise.
The hallway was dark and empty. Everyone was asleep.
I made my way to Rafael's office. My heart pounded with every step. If he caught me, he'd know I was lying. Know I wasn't really accepting being Eva.
His office door was unlocked. I opened it and slipped inside, closing it quietly behind me.
Fool.
He was so convinced I was Eva that he wasn't even careful anymore.
I sat at Rafael's desk and turned on his computer. It was locked. It required a password this time. But I tried the obvious one first.
My birthday.
If I Eva and I were the same person, then we should have the same birthday.
And It worked.
It worked?!
I and Eva were born the same day.
A new fear settled in, but I ignored it quickly.
There was no denying that something was off.
I started searching through his files. Looking for anything related to Eva. To her death. To the DNA test. To anything that might explain this impossible connection.
But most of it was business files, shipment records, financial reports. Things I didn't understand and didn't care about.
But then I found a folder labeled "Eva - Medical Records."
My hands trembled as I opened it.
Inside were hundreds of photos. Photos of Eva smiling. Eva laughing. Eva on vacation. Eva at charity events.
In every single photo, she looked exactly like me. Or I looked exactly like her.
It was like looking at pictures of myself in a life I'd never lived.
I kept scrolling. There were videos too. I clicked on one.
Eva's face filled the screen. She was talking to the camera, laughing about something.
"Rafael, stop filming me!" She said, covering her face with her hands. "I look terrible!"
"You look beautiful," Rafael's voice came from behind the camera. "You always look beautiful."
"You're biased," Eva teased. "But I love you anyway."
My chest tightened. The voice wasn't quite right. Eva's voice was lighter than mine and more musical. But the face was identical.
How was this possible?
I closed the video and kept searching. There had to be something. Some clue. Some explanation.
Then I found medical records. Eva's medical history.
I read through them carefully. She'd been healthy. No major illnesses. No genetic disorders. Nothing unusual.
Except for one thing.
Eva had been adopted.
I stared at the screen. My mind started racing. Eva was adopted. That meant her biological parents were unknown.
What if Eva and I shared biological parents? What if we were sisters? Half-sisters even?
That could explain the DNA match. Siblings share DNA. Identical twins share all of it.
But the DNA test said we were identical. Not similar. Identical. That means the same person.
Unless the test was wrong somehow. Unless Dr. Marchetti made a mistake.
I needed to talk to her and find out exactly how she ran that test.
I closed the files and kept searching. There had to be more. Something that would explain this mystery.
I opened drawers in Rafael's desk, looking for anything physical. Papers, letters, anything Eva might have left behind.
Most drawers were filled with boring documents. Contracts, deeds and legal papers.
But the bottom drawer was locked.
I looked around for a key. But found nothing.
So I grabbed a letter opener from the desk and jimmied the lock. It took a few tries, but eventually it clicked open.
Inside was a small wooden box. It was old and worn out. The wood was scratched and faded.
I lifted it out carefully and opened the lid.
Inside were letters. Love letters from Rafael to Eva and from Eva to Rafael.
I picked one up and started reading.
"My dearest Rafael, I know you're scared. I know this life isn't what you wanted. But I see the good in you. I see the man you could become. And I love that man with all my heart. Please don't lose yourself to the darkness. Promise me you'll always fight to stay human. Love, Eva."
Tears stung my eyes. Eva had known what Rafael was. And she'd loved him anyway.
I put the letter back and kept searching through the box.
At the very bottom, under all the letters, was something else.
A journal.
It was dusty and rough. The leather cover was worn and cracked with age. It looked like it hadn't been touched in years.
I pulled it out carefully. Dust particles floated in the moonlight. I coughed, waving my hand to clear the air.
I brushed the dust off the cover with my sleeve. The leather was soft under my fingers.
On the front, written in faded gold letters, was a name.
"Eva Orlova."
Eva's diary.
My hands shook as I opened it. The pages were yellowed and brittle. The handwriting was delicate, feminine and neat.
I turned to the first page and began to read.
"January 1st. Today I start a new life. Rafael proposed last night. I said yes, even though I know what he is. Even though I know the world he comes from. Because I love him. And love makes us do impossible things."
I flipped through the pages, scanning the entries. They were mostly about daily life. About Rafael. About their wedding plans.
Nothing unusual. Nothing that explained why I existed.
But then I reached the last few entries. Written just weeks before Eva died.
And my heart stopped.