로그인The figure didn’t move.It stood at the edge of the tree line, just beyond the glow of the garden lights, a dark silhouette against the moonless sky. My heart slammed against my ribs. Instinct took over. I grabbed Alexander, pressing his face against my shoulder, and backed away from the window.“Julian,” I whispered, my voice shaking.He was already moving. He stepped in front of us, shielding us with his body, his hand reaching for the phone in his pocket. “Marcus,” he said into the speaker, his voice low and deadly. “We have an intruder. East treeline. Get the team.”The estate erupted into motion. Within seconds, floodlights snapped on, illuminating the grounds like a stadium. Armed guards poured out of the security house, their boots crunching against the gravel. Marcus’s voice barked orders over the radio.But when the guards reached the treeline, there was no one there.---“They vanished,” Marcus said twenty minutes later, standing in the living room, his face pale. “The guard
The broadcast ended at exactly 5:47 PM.By 5:48, the world had exploded.The news channels ran the footage on a loop—Adrian's cold, sneering confession followed by Julian's devastating counterattack. Social media erupted. The hashtag #BlackwoodMonster trended worldwide within minutes. Protests broke out outside the supermax facility, and the FBI had to double the guard just to keep the peace.But inside the estate, there was only silence.I sat on the couch in the living room, Alexander asleep in my arms, staring at the blank television screen. Julian stood by the window, his back to me, his shoulders rigid. Victoria was on the phone in the kitchen, her voice a low murmur as she coordinated with her editor.Marcus appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable."It's done," he said quietly. "The FBI has officially classified Adrian as a domestic terrorist. He's being moved to a black-site facility in the Nevada desert. No contact with the outside world. No visitors. No letters. He
The interview was scheduled for a Tuesday morning, three weeks after the deal was struck.In that time, Julian and I barely slept. We worked with the documentary team, a group of independent filmmakers with no ties to any network, to ensure the production was completely transparent. The FBI was allowed to monitor everything but not interfere. Victoria was the only journalist granted access, serving as an independent observer to ensure nothing was edited or manipulated.Adrian's confession would be broadcast live to the entire world.The night before the interview, I stood in the nursery, watching Alexander sleep. He was growing so fast—his dark hair had thickened, his gray eyes were brighter, and his tiny fists clenched and unclenched as he dreamed."He looks like you," Julian said, appearing in the doorway.I smiled. "He looks like his father."Julian crossed the room and wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder."Are you ready for tomorrow?" he asked.
The aftermath of the operation was a media circus.Six men in federal custody. A blown-up SUV. A foiled prison break that made national headlines. The FBI held a press conference the next morning, praising the "extraordinary bravery" of the task force and the "invaluable intelligence" provided by civilian consultants.They didn't mention our names. They didn't have to. The world already knew who we were.But victory came with a price.The day after the operation, Agent Morrison called Julian with news that made my blood run cold."Adrian has requested a meeting," she said. "With you and your wife."Julian's jaw tightened. "Absolutely not.""He's threatening to go public with information about the children. About Project Genesis. About the surrogates. He says if we don't grant him the meeting, he'll leak everything to the press."I was sitting beside Julian, close enough to hear Morrison's voice through the phone. My heart hammered against my ribs."What kind of information?" I asked.
The plan was insane.Even by our standards—and we had set the bar impossibly high over the past year—Nadia's proposal was the kind of reckless, high-stakes gamble that could end with all of us dead.We gathered in the study, the fireplace crackling against the November chill outside. Mei Lin sat beside Isabella on the leather couch, their daughters playing quietly at their feet. Victoria was hunched over her laptop, already drafting the press releases we would need if everything went according to plan. Marcus stood by the window, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.Nadia stood in the center of the room, her posture military-straight, her dark eyes scanning each of us in turn."Adrian's network is small but loyal," she began. "Six men. Former intelligence, former military, all of them indebted to him. They've been waiting for his signal. When he gives it, they'll move to extract him from the supermax and bring him to a safe house in the mountains.""And you know where this saf
The weeks that followed Isabella’s arrival were a blur of quiet chaos.Our estate, once a sanctuary for just Julian, Alexander, and me, had transformed into a bustling refuge. Isabella and Hope had settled into their apartment nearby, but they spent most of their days at our house. Victoria visited constantly, her laptop always open as she documented the stories of the women Adrian had victimized. Marcus had hired a team of private investigators to track down the remaining four women on the corkboard.But the shadow of Adrian still lingered.One evening, as I was preparing dinner in the kitchen, my phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number."You think you can save them all? You can't even save yourself."I stared at the screen, my heart pounding. Then I deleted the message and blocked the number.I didn't tell Julian. He was already carrying too much. But I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching us.---The break came three days later.Marcus burst into the study, his







