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CHAPTER 82

Author: Penny
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-05-26 23:37:55

Private Jet – Somewhere Over the Atlantic

The sunrise painted the clouds below us in shades of gold and amber, a masterpiece of light and shadow stretching to the horizon as our jet traced a course away from the European continent and toward an uncertain future. At forty thousand feet, the world seemed smaller somehow, its problems reduced to the abstract beauty of weather patterns and the geometric precision of shipping lanes etched into the ocean's surface.

Griffin sat by the window, his notebook open on the tray table before him, sketching with the kind of focused intensity that had become his default mode over the past week. The pages were covered with blueprints for a medical AI system, the diagrams so detailed and sophisticated that they seemed to belong in a graduate-level engineering textbook rather than a fourteen-year-old's personal journal.

"To fix what he broke," Griffin said without looking up from his work when he noticed me watching him. His pencil moved with mechanic
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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 146

    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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    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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