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CHAPTER 23

Author: Penny
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-05-27 03:22:36

Caribbean Safehouse – 1 Month Later

The ocean breeze carried the scent of salt and jasmine through the open villa doors, mingling with the electric ozone smell of Griffin's soldering station. The marble floors reflected the azure Caribbean waters beyond, creating the illusion that they were floating on light itself. It would have been paradise, if not for the bulletproof glass and the armed guards stationed discretely along the palm-fringed perimeter.

Griffin sat cross-legged on the cool marble, his back to the infinity pool that seemed to merge with the horizon. Components and circuit boards spread around him like an electronic mandala—microprocessors from three different countries, neural interface chips he'd somehow acquired despite being technically dead according to most governments, and optical fibers so thin they looked like spider silk in the afternoon light.

"It'll stabilize neural degeneration," he explained, his fingers moving with surgical precision as he connected a hai
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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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    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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    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

  • My Billionaire Ex-husband Won't Call It Quit   CHAPTER 145

    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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