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CHAPTER 128

Author: Penny
last update Last Updated: 2025-06-29 19:32:34

Island Stronghold – 72 Hours Later

Griffin's nightmares had started the moment he'd closed his eyes in the medical bay, sixty-seven hours after Coleman Manor had become a smoking crater. What began as standard post-traumatic stress—images of fire and collapsing concrete—had evolved into something far more disturbing.

Not nightmares of Michael—but dreams as Michael.

He'd wake up with his hands around imaginary throats, his voice rasping orders in a cadence that wasn't his own. Commands issued with the casual cruelty of a man who had never seen other human beings as anything more than variables in an equation. "Liquidate the pension fund. Those teachers won't need retirement if they're not breathing." The words would spill from his lips before he fully understood what he was saying.

The island stronghold—a repurposed oil platform in international waters that Maria had converted into their base of operations—offered the isolation Griffin needed to wrestle with what was happening to him
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    Medbay – 1 Week Later Griffin woke to sunlight and silence. The first thing he noticed was the absence—no whispers threading through his thoughts, no phantom code fragments suggesting tactical analyses of every face that entered his field of vision. The second thing was the warm weight of natural light streaming through the medical bay's reinforced windows, painting everything in shades of gold that seemed almost impossibly clean after days of artificial illumination. No whispers. No phantom code. No sense of sharing headspace with a predator who wore his father's face. Just the gentle hum of medical equipment and the sound of someone snoring in the chair beside his bed. Griffin turned his head carefully, testing the limits of his mobility. His neck felt stiff but functional, his thoughts moving with the sluggish clarity of someone emerging from deep sedation. Eli sat slouched in a medical chair that had clearly been designed for patients rather than visitors, his lanky frame fo

  • My Billionaire Ex-husband Won't Call It Quit   CHAPTER 152

    Medbay – 1 Week Later Griffin woke to sunlight and silence. The first thing he noticed was the absence—no whispers threading through his thoughts, no phantom code fragments suggesting tactical analyses of every face that entered his field of vision. The second thing was the warm weight of natural light streaming through the medical bay's reinforced windows, painting everything in shades of gold that seemed almost impossibly clean after days of artificial illumination. No whispers. No phantom code. No sense of sharing headspace with a predator who wore his father's face. Just the gentle hum of medical equipment and the sound of someone snoring in the chair beside his bed. Griffin turned his head carefully, testing the limits of his mobility. His neck felt stiff but functional, his thoughts moving with the sluggish clarity of someone emerging from deep sedation. Eli sat slouched in a medical chair that had clearly been designed for patients rather than visitors, his lanky frame fo

  • My Billionaire Ex-husband Won't Call It Quit   CHAPTER 151

    Hangar Control Room – 3 Minutes Later The control room sat like a spider at the center of its web, overlooking the hangar through reinforced windows that reflected the harsh work lights below. Griffin's fingers flew across the alien-looking console, his hybrid-enhanced nervous system allowing him to process information at speeds that would have overwhelmed a normal human mind. The interface was a fusion of biological and digital technology, requiring both technical skill and the neural modifications that had been forced upon him. Lines of code scrolled across multiple screens, each one representing a different aspect of the facility's systems. Life support for the hybrid children. Power distribution for the aircraft. Most critically, the neural link networks that connected each child to their designated weapon. "I can override the aircrafts' neural links," Griffin said, his voice tight with concentration and barely suppressed panic. "But the system is designed with multiple saf

  • My Billionaire Ex-husband Won't Call It Quit   CHAPTER 150

    Hangar Control Room – 3 Minutes Later The control room sat like a spider at the center of its web, overlooking the hangar through reinforced windows that reflected the harsh work lights below. Griffin's fingers flew across the alien-looking console, his hybrid-enhanced nervous system allowing him to process information at speeds that would have overwhelmed a normal human mind. The interface was a fusion of biological and digital technology, requiring both technical skill and the neural modifications that had been forced upon him. Lines of code scrolled across multiple screens, each one representing a different aspect of the facility's systems. Life support for the hybrid children. Power distribution for the aircraft. Most critically, the neural link networks that connected each child to their designated weapon. "I can override the aircrafts' neural links," Griffin said, his voice tight with concentration and barely suppressed panic. "But the system is designed with multiple saf

  • My Billionaire Ex-husband Won't Call It Quit   CHAPTER 149

    Medbay – 1 Week Later Griffin woke to sunlight and silence. The first thing he noticed was the absence—no whispers threading through his thoughts, no phantom code fragments suggesting tactical analyses of every face that entered his field of vision. The second thing was the warm weight of natural light streaming through the medical bay's reinforced windows, painting everything in shades of gold that seemed almost impossibly clean after days of artificial illumination. No whispers. No phantom code. No sense of sharing headspace with a predator who wore his father's face. Just the gentle hum of medical equipment and the sound of someone snoring in the chair beside his bed. Griffin turned his head carefully, testing the limits of his mobility. His neck felt stiff but functional, his thoughts moving with the sluggish clarity of someone emerging from deep sedation. Eli sat slouched in a medical chair that had clearly been designed for patients rather than visitors, his lanky frame fo

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    Coleman Manor Bunker – 00:17 Hours The glass pod hissed open with the sound of escaping steam, releasing a cocktail of medical vapors and ozone that made the air taste metallic. Michael stepped out—barefoot, clad in medical whites that seemed to glow under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the underground facility. His movements were jerky like a puppet learning its strings, each step calculated but somehow off-rhythm, as though his consciousness was still settling into its borrowed flesh. Griffin pressed himself against the cold concrete wall, watching in horror as his father—or what remained of him—tested the limits of his reconstructed form. The man who emerged from the pod bore Michael Coleman's face, but everything else was wrong. The way he held his shoulders. The subtle cant of his head. The predatory stillness that had replaced his father's characteristic restless energy. "You look... disappointed," Michael rasped, his voice carrying harmonics that hadn't been there befo

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