“Emma? What’s going on?” my father asks, looking confused. I’m too shocked to speak. At least he doesn’t seem to understand what we’ve just uncovered. Gravelle must have programmed him that way—all of them—not to know anything about the time stamps except during the five minutes a day when they communicate with him.

“I have to go. I love you, Dad,” I say quickly before taking Maude by the arm and fleeing. Duplicate Ollie says a quick goodbye to my dad and follows after us. I explain to him hastily I might throw up and just need a good night’s sleep.

I feel a pang of distress over leaving my dad so abruptly, but I have to remind myself that that man is not really my father. My father is somewhere else, probably Castor Island, locked up, hopefully not tortured. Or dead.

Back on campus, a protective Maude promises Ollie she’ll get me back to my room and will stay with me to make sure I’m not feverish. Duplicate Ollie looks skeptical but agrees, promising to check on me in the morning. Once Ollie’s gone, Maude and I double back to the circular drive, where our friends are waiting for us when we get there.

I show my friends the buzz from Jane. Maude tells them, her voice flat, about the time stamp on my dad’s wrist.

As she’s talking, I’m struck by a memory, from yesterday. Tessa in those platform wedges. Those were the wedges her Duplicate wore, during that September weekend when the first three Duplicates crashed the masquerade ball. It hits me like a ton of bricks. That wasn’t Tessa getting out of that limo. It was her Duplicate.

With increasing dread closing in on me, I wonder: How many have been “installed”? How many replaced?

Ollie… My father. Jane. Tessa.

“I think it’s everyone,” I whisper.

“What are you saying, Emma?” Pru asks, tears encroaching in her eyes.

“I’m saying that I think Gravelle’s plan was, is, to replace all our DNA parents. The de Leons, the Choates, Booker, Frederica and Tessa Leroy, my dad, and now Jane.” I feel utterly bereft. This was all happening right under our noses.

“But how would that even work?” Jago asks, pacing the snow-covered ground. “Did your dad seem like himself?”

“Very much so,” I answer, breathless.

“How would Gravelle have downloaded your father’s memories and thoughts and personality into this Duplicate? It doesn’t make sense. Ollie was on Castor Island long enough for Gravelle to obtain all his thoughts, but—”

“An implant,” Maude cuts in. “A tiny device, inserted near the base of the brain. One that can send memories to a host body remotely. It could be implanted while a person is sleeping. They’d never know.”

I’m reeling as I try to sort this out in my mind.