The hallway felt too narrow.
Nathan stood at one end, a looming silhouette carved in anger and obsession. Elena stood at the other, her face pale but steady, her hand lightly touching Adelina's wrist as if to ground her—or claim her.
Adelina stood between them.
Between versions of the truth.
"I'm not going with either of you," she said, her voice more firm than she felt.
Nathan stepped forward, but Elena didn't flinch.
"You should leave," Elena told him. "She deserves to know who she is. Really is."
"She knows," Nathan said darkly. "What she doesn't need is another manipulation."
Adelina's heart thudded.
"I'm staying," she said. "For now. Elena, you said you'd tell me everything."
Nathan's jaw tightened. "Then I'm staying too."
"No."
Adelina turned to face him fully. "You had your chance to tell me everything. You chose silence. Now I choose her."
It hurt to say.
It hurt more to see the crack in Nathan's expression.
He stepped back slowly, nodding once. But his eyes never left hers.
They sat in a small lounge with high windows and storm-colored curtains. The tea Elena made was untouched.
"There are pieces of this you already know," Elena began, pulling a leather folder from her bag. "But there are parts that have been kept from you—by design."
She opened the folder.
Inside were photographs.
Black and white. Sepia-toned. Some newer.
Faces. Scientists. Infants in glass chambers. Children in white gowns.
Elena pulled out one in particular and laid it before Adelina.
It was two girls.
Identical. Clutching each other's hands.
"They told you I was the prototype," Elena said softly. "That much is true. But what they didn't tell you is that I wasn't the first one to reject programming. You were."
Adelina looked up sharply.
"What?"
"You were the original subject with full consciousness. But something went wrong—your mind fractured. They thought they lost you. So they started again. I was made from your base structure. Refined. Contained."
Adelina shook her head. "That's impossible."
Elena passed her a document.
Subject IL-3: Cognitive instability at 18 months. Catatonic state. Memory flush unsuccessful. Preservation protocol initiated.
"You were put into stasis," Elena said. "They froze you. Until Nathan found out and insisted they try again. He pushed for your reactivation. He begged them to give you back your life."
Adelina pressed her hands to her temples.
"I don't understand."
"You weren't made to replace anyone, Adelina. You were made first. And everything they told you—about Adelina dying, about you being version three—it was all a lie to protect the people who tampered with your mind."
Nathan.
Victor.
Everyone.
"I remember… screaming," she whispered. "A white room."
"You weren't dreaming," Elena said. "You were remembering."
The house had grown quiet by the time Elena finished showing her the folder. The truth sat heavy in the room like fog.
"Why are you helping me?" Adelina asked finally.
Elena's face softened. "Because I'm the only one who understands what it means to be born into a lie."
Before Adelina could respond, Nathan burst into the room, breath ragged, eyes burning.
"She's lying," he said.
Elena stood slowly. "Am I? Or are you just terrified she'll finally see who you really are to her?"
Nathan ignored her, turning to Adelina.
"You don't know what she's done. What she's capable of."
"Then tell me," Adelina said. "Tell me everything."
Nathan took a step forward. "She's not your sister."
"I never said I was," Elena replied calmly.
Adelina's gaze darted between them. "But we're related."
Elena nodded. "By code. Not by blood."
Nathan's silence was telling.
"What does that mean?" Adelina demanded.
Neither answered.
Elena exhaled slowly. "I can't tell you the rest. Not yet. Because it's not mine to reveal."
"Then whose?" Adelina asked.
Elena's eyes met hers.
"Nathan's."
Adelina turned.
Nathan's face was pale.
"Elena's right," he said finally.
Adelina's heart clenched.
"You're hiding something," she whispered.
Nathan nodded once. "And if I tell you… you'll never look at me the same way again."
"I already don't."
He hesitated. "Then I'll show you. Tomorrow. Come with me. Just you and me. No one else."
Adelina hesitated.
"Why?"
"Because the final truth isn't in these files or these walls," he said. "It's buried where this all began."
Elena stepped forward. "Don't trust him. He'll twist it to make you stay."
Adelina looked at them both.
Two versions of herself.
Two paths.
One truth.
"I'll go," she said finally. "But only if you promise me one thing."
Nathan raised an eyebrow.
"No more lies."
His smile was bitter.
"Then prepare yourself," he said. "Because the truth may be worse."
That night, Elena stood at the window.
Adelina sat behind her, staring into the dark.
"He's hiding the most important part," Elena said softly. "The reason they created you at all. The real purpose behind Iliris."
Adelina didn't speak.
Elena turned.
"Ask yourself this, Adelina: Why would someone go to such lengths to make you forget—if what they erased wasn't horrifying?"
Adelina closed her eyes.
In the silence, the answer loomed.
And it wasn't comforting.