Re-identification Novels & Stories

Justin said “How can we undo it? I can’t live with her not knowing who I am. I looked into her eyes and it was empty. She doesn’t even remember me!” Damian said “I can get a witch to undo it. I would make some calls and go into town, hopefully we can find Grace there” Justin said “Grace? Your ex?” Sally asked “Yeah, if anybody can pull this off, it is her. She is talented and powerful. She is also good at what she does” Justin said

Instead, it was an email, the sender address unfamiliar, the subject line stopping my heart cold in my chest. RE: Your Real Identity — We Need To Talk I stared at it for a long moment, the warmth of the evening draining out of me all at once, replaced by the old, familiar cold dread that had become disturbingly routine over the last several weeks. I opened it with trembling hands. The message inside was short. Brutally, devastatingly short. The man who saved you five years ago wasn't who you think he was. Neither of them are. Call this number before you make any more decisions you can't undo.

I asked wanting to ask her about mates. She nodded her head and we were led into the healing room. Amelia said that this room was sound proof due to the confidentiality of the pack members. After Amelia left I asked, "Is it possible to have two mates?" "Ah, I see why you wanted to talk in private. Yes, it is possible if you were rejected and the same thing happened to your second chance mate or worse the mate of one of y'all has passed away. But with rejection you will have to make a choice if the mate who rejected you hasn't completed a bond with someone else."

"David Bailey and Alpha Asher Morris, ninety-nine point nine nine percent match." Horrified gasps and murmurs filled the room instantly. My eyes drifted to Sophia's face. She was staring at the floor, her fingers gripped the fabric of her dress as she sat still. "Daniel and Alpha Asher Morris, ninety-nine point nine nine percent match." "Can you imagine?" "This is unbelievable." "At least we know he isn't impotent." "Lastly, Darwin Bailey and Alpha Asher Morris, ninety-nine point nine nine percent match." The world around me began to spin.

The Juliana girl butted in. I took a deep breath before facing her, "Like you said, she always calls me, but how sure are you that she calls me that particular name? Or are you assuming because Henry was written together with it?" "And if you are not assuming it, then it means others might also know about the name. Don't you think someone might be trying to divert attention?" "Divert attention? What is your excuse on the handwriting?" She asked again. "Don't tell me you are this naive. Hello, there are people who can forge handwriting. They are experts. This can be forged." I said, giving her an incredulous look.

“You were being watched.” A wave of heat rushed through Isolde’s chest. “How far does this go?” she asked. Penelope tapped one last file. A final list loaded. THE CLIENT KEY It wasn’t just names. It was aliases, masked identities, financial trails some known, many unfamiliar. But at the bottom of the list sat the most chilling entry: HARROW // TRUE NAME: [REDACTED] Confirmed Alive. Relocated: UNKNOWN. Protocol: RECONVERGE. Isolde stared at the word.

"Why didn't you tell me it was you when you recognized me?" Beta Thorne hesitated for a moment before hugging her back gently. "I didn't know it was you… until the day Alpha Kael rejected you." he said quietly. "That was the first time I saw you, and you looked so much like your mother. Her carbon copy." Aria pulled back slightly, still holding onto him. "And you instantly knew I was the one?" she asked, her voice calmer now. Beta Thorne nodded. Aria smiled softly. "I'm sorry that I failed to recognize you."

“We document. We preserve. We do not speak publicly about identities until verified by forensics. We must not feed speculation.” Beatrice’s fingers flew across a tablet. “Jonah — blow the frame up. Enhance. Get forensics to run a pixel analysis. There may be enough detail to identify even a partial signature on the cuff.” Jonah did as told, launching software that tried to create resolution where there was none. The algorithms ran in a staccato of progress bars and whirring heads; the screen filled with lines and numbers until a pattern developed.

Jean said, looking at the brooch, as though he memorized everything about it, then looked up at me, "Does each of those people have something different in their brooch that can be recognized to stand out as theirs alone?" I shook my head, "these are heirlooms that are passed down from one generation to another. There's never been a need to mark it as belonging to one particular person or another." "That means this brooch can belong to anyone. and until we know who exactly, anyone is exactly no one. That's really not enough." "Tell me about it."

The Framework covered three things. The first was identification. How to find returners before they found themselves in the situation Nyla had been in — alone in a year that had already happened, carrying knowledge she had no way to explain, with no one to tell her what she was. The identification protocols were necessarily imperfect — they could not monitor every clinical death event in the world. But they could monitor certain categories. High-profile individuals whose near-death events were documented in public record. Referrals from the medical and therapeutic community, built through the relationships the group had developed with practitioners who had seen the pattern without understand