19: Witness 21
1135 Words
The drive sat like a loaded weapon on the hotel bed.
Amara hadn’t moved for nearly an hour. She sat cross-legged, laptop open, staring at the encrypted folders that Sebastian had sworn were everything. But Celeste’s message kept repeating in her mind — a whisper she couldn’t silence:
Check the archive’s final folder: Witness 21.
Her fingers trembled as she typed the password Sebastian had used earlier: Veronica.
The final folder appeared at the bottom of the directory.
“WITNESS_21.”
Last modified twelve years ago.
She double-clicked.
The screen filled with scanned reports, photographs, and recorded memos. She scrolled through medical notes stamped with the Hollingsworth Foundation logo — records of surgical extractions, organ transfers, anonymized donor profiles. Her stomach twisted.
And then, halfway through the file list, a photo stopped her heart.
A teenage girl, maybe seventeen, thin and terrified, staring into the camera.
The label read: “Donor Candidate 21 — Amara I. Eze.”
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“No…”
She clicked the next file — a recorded log, the timestamp dated six years before she ever met Sebastian.
Voice: “Subject 21 transferred from outreach hospital, stable vitals. Compatible kidney match for patient D. Hollingsworth. Guardian consent pending.”
The voice was Eduardo’s. Calm, professional, almost bored.
Amara’s pulse pounded in her ears. She opened the next log.
Voice (Eduardo): “Transfer canceled. Subject 21 declared unfit for donation. Psychological profile flagged unstable — memory suppression recommended. Proceed with discharge.”
She froze. “Memory suppression?”
Her breath came fast, her skin prickling with a kind of horror that lived deeper than memory.
There were flashes — old hospital lights, the sharp scent of disinfectant, a man’s shadow moving behind a curtain.
She’d thought those were nightmares from childhood.
They weren’t.
She was there.
She was supposed to be one of them.
⸻
The knock on her suite door made her flinch.
“Amara,” came Sebastian’s voice. “Open up.”
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, copying the file to her cloud drive before snapping the laptop shut. “Just a minute!”
He entered a moment later, his jacket gone, sleeves rolled, face drawn tight with worry. “You left the gala without security. Celeste’s people could’ve followed you.”
“I’m sure they did,” she said, backing away. “They seem to know a lot about me — more than you ever told me.”
He frowned. “What does that mean?”
She held up the flash drive like a blade. “You knew about Witness 21.”
His expression faltered — just for a heartbeat. “You opened it.”
“Of course I did! You think I wouldn’t look after the woman who tried to kill me said there was another secret?” She slammed the drive onto the table. “Why is my name in those files, Sebastian?”
He stepped toward her slowly. “Because I was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me from what? The truth?”
“From what Eduardo did.” His voice cracked. “Amara, you were part of the early Lazarus trials. You were never supposed to survive.”
Her vision blurred. “You’re lying.”
“I wish I was.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled away. “Your mother brought you to a Hollingsworth-funded clinic when you were seventeen. She thought she was signing you up for a surgical scholarship program — free treatment, education, a chance at a better life. Eduardo used that to recruit ‘donors.’ When they discovered you were a match for Darian’s transplant list—”
“Stop.”
“—Veronica intervened,” he went on. “She faked your discharge papers. Smuggled you out before the surgery. But Eduardo wiped the clinic records and used the memory suppression program to cover the trail. You didn’t remember, Amara, because they made sure you wouldn’t.”
Amara’s knees nearly buckled. “So when Darian asked for my kidney years later… he knew.”
Sebastian’s silence was her answer.
Her laughter was sharp, broken. “He wanted to finish what his father started.”
“He didn’t know everything,” Sebastian said quickly. “Eduardo kept most of the early files sealed. That’s why Celeste still had leverage — because she knew about Witness 21.”
She stared at him, her world spinning. “You knew too.”
“I suspected. I didn’t want to believe it until I saw the files myself.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t know how.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “How do you tell someone the worst thing that ever happened to them — something they can’t even remember?”
“You let them remember!” she shouted. “You don’t protect people with lies, Sebastian. You just rewrite their pain!”
⸻
She turned away, tears burning her cheeks. Outside the suite window, the city pulsed in neon and rain — beautiful and merciless.
Sebastian’s reflection appeared beside hers. “Amara… this is why Celeste wants you gone. You’re the only surviving proof of what they did.”
“Then she’s not the only monster I should fear,” she said bitterly.
He flinched. “You think I’m one of them?”
“I think you’ve spent too long pretending you’re not.”
He moved closer, desperation cracking through the calm. “I stayed inside their empire for years to destroy it. I watched them buy lives and sell salvation. I carried their sins so you could live free of them.”
She looked at him then — truly looked — and for a moment, saw the man beneath the guilt. A man who had signed one paper and spent every day since trying to rewrite it.
But forgiveness wasn’t a currency she had left.
“I’m not your redemption, Sebastian,” she said softly. “And you’re not my savior.”
He swallowed hard. “Then what are we?”
She turned toward the door. “A warning. To each other.”
She left before he could speak.
⸻
Outside, the corridor hummed with the muted sound of distant music. The gala was still raging two floors below — laughter, champagne, lies. Amara slipped into the elevator, clutching her bag.
As the doors began to close, her phone buzzed again. Another message.
Now you understand, darling. You were never meant to be the bride — you were meant to be the proof.
—C.H.
The elevator doors shut.
And for the first time since she’d met Sebastian Cruz, Amara understood the real power she held.
She wasn’t just another pawn in the Hollingsworth empire.
She was the key to burning it down.
- Writer
