Damien’s penthouse gleamed with glass and steel, every surface polished to a mirror shine. The kind of place that showed you had it all—wealth, power, and control.But as Serena stood alone in that vast, empty room, the silence felt like a cage wrapped tight around her chest.She held the photo again—the one she’d found buried inside a stack of old files in Damien’s locked drawer. A little girl in a paint-splattered sundress, grinning crookedly at the edge of a playground. And several feet behind her, half-hidden in shadows… Damien.Her stomach twisted into knots.Coincidence? She didn’t believe in those anymore.Part of her wanted to confront him. To demand answers.But another part whispered that maybe there was some reason. Maybe it was all a terrible misunderstanding.Then she heard it.Damien’s voice muffled behind the door to his office.She pressed herself against the wall, heart poundi
Morning light filtered softly through the blinds, casting golden bars across Serena’s bare shoulder. She stirred beneath the sheets, the faint scent of smoke still clinging to her skin from the night before. Her muscles ached, a reminder of everything they'd survived—everything they hadn't yet.The mattress dipped beside her. She blinked, half-expecting another nightmare.Instead, it was Damien, holding a tray.Toast. Strawberries. Black coffee—just the way she liked it.“You cooked?” she mumbled, her voice hoarse from sleep.He gave a one-shoulder shrug, eyes unreadable. “I toasted.”A small, surprised laugh escaped her lips. It felt strange, foreign. Like her body wasn’t used to it anymore.She sat up slowly, brushing tangled hair behind her ear. The silence that followed wasn't awkward—it was fragile, healing.Her smile faded. “I’m sorry, Damien. For... doubting you.”He didn’t flinch. Just
Serena didn’t sleep that night.She sat curled on the edge of the bed, knees drawn to her chest, a blanket wrapped around her like armour. The tablet in her lap glowed with soft blue light, casting ghostly shadows on the walls. She hadn’t moved in hours.Across the room, Damien sat at his desk, tapping keys on his laptop. He wasn’t pretending to work—he was giving her space. But every few minutes, his eyes flicked toward her.He didn’t push. He waited.Eventually, her voice cut through the quiet like glass.“My mother was one of them.”Damien paused. His fingers stilled.“I know,” he said softly. “I saw the file.”Serena’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. “She authorized it. Every test. Every injection. She stood there while I screamed. And then she wrote me that letter... like that made it okay.”Damien crossed the room and crouched in front of her, steady, quiet. His hands rested on his thighs,
Serena stared at her phone screen, the blinking cursor taunting her. We need to talk. I can’t do this anymore. She stared at the words until they stopped making sense. Then, she deleted them with a tight swipe and shoved the phone under her pillow like it burned. Her lie about the Montreal site festered in her chest like a slow poison. Part of her still clung to the hope that Damien wasn’t involved in Harbinger—that the initials “D.M.” were just coincidence. Noise. A misdirection meant to crack her from the inside out. But what if it wasn’t? She wandered into the living room. Damien was there, pacing, his voice low as he spoke into the phone. “I’ll take care of it,” he said. “I just need more time.” He turned the second he noticed her. “Hey. Couldn’t sleep?” She shook her head. “No.” Damien poured her a glass
The screen glowed in the dim room, casting cold light across Serena’s face. Her eyes locked on a single line:Project Harbinger – Active RebuildHer hand hovered over the enter key, tension stiffening her shoulders. Something deep in her gut twisted.Behind her, the sound of a towel being tossed echoed as Damien stepped in, hair still damp from the shower. “You okay?”Serena didn’t look at him. “Someone sent me a file. No name. No traceable sender. Just this.”Damien took a step closer. His gaze landed on the screen, and his body went rigid. “Project Harbinger… I heard that name once. Years ago. Boardroom whispers. Everyone pretended it didn’t exist.”Serena pressed the key.Lines of code streamed across the screen. Schematics. Old surveillance photos. Blacked-out names. Then one final line, bold and unmistakable:> Initiative status: Phase One complete. Candidate pool narrowed. Re-engineering in progress.Her breath caught. “What is this?”Damien leaned over her shoulder, his voice l
The hospital suite was quiet—eerily so. Only the steady beep of Damien’s heart monitor reminded Serena that time was still ticking.She stood frozen, Ava’s tablet still glowing in her hands.Phase Six: Ascension.Two words. Bright red. Stark against the screen. And somehow, colder than anything they’d seen in the Vault.Damien stirred in bed, voice groggy. “What is it?”Ava didn’t answer at first. She set the tablet down gently on the rolling table between them as if it might explode.“This was buried deeper than anything in the Vault,” she said. “Five layers of encryption. Hidden in a failsafe trigger. Designed to activate only if someone got close.”Serena stepped forward, her stomach twisting. “Trigger what, exactly?”Ava’s fingers danced across the screen. “Ascension is the Foundation’s contingency plan. Not just a backup—an evolution. If they were ever exposed, they planned to rise from the ashes…