LOGINThe penthouse was too quiet.Not the peaceful kind of quiet; the kind that pressed against the ears, that made every breath sound louder than it should. The city beyond the glass walls glittered like nothing was wrong, like secrets weren’t bleeding through steel and concrete floors.Dominic shut the door behind them with more force than necessary.Lila flinched.“Don’t,” she said sharply. “Don’t start acting like this.”He turned, eyes dark, jaw tight. “Like what?”“Like you’re gearing up for war.” She crossed her arms, trying to keep her voice steady. “You went from hiding to provoking in a single night. Do you have any idea what that means for Eli?”Dominic let out a short, humorless laugh. “I know exactly what it means.”“No,” she shot back. “You think you do. But you’re not the one who spent years looking over your shoulder. You’re not the one who learned how to disappear.”“And how did that work out?” he snapped.The words hit harder than he meant them to. He saw it immediately—t
It was already morning. Light slid across the penthouse floor in pale strips, catching on glass and chrome, turning the space calm and ordinary in a way that felt like a lie. Lila stood near the windows, watching Eli kneel on the rug, carefully lining up his toy cars by color. He hummed under his breath: soft, tuneless, a sound that usually meant he felt safe.Dominic watched them from the doorway.“What happens now?” Lila asked quietly, without turning.Dominic didn’t answer at first. His eyes stayed on Eli. On the way, the boy paused before pushing one car forward, as if considering consequences before acting.Finally, Dominic said, “We stop reacting.”Lila looked at him. “And start doing what?”“Tracing,” he replied. “Every footprint they didn’t erase cleanly.”He moved past her, already pulling up his sleeves, the decision made. “There’s footage from the night of the breach. What’s left of it.”“I thought they wiped everything.”“They tried,” Dominic said. “But people who are cert
Seventeen hours.The number pulsed on the screen like a heartbeat Dominic couldn’t quiet.Lila stood beside him in the dim light of his office, arms folded tight against her ribs, watching as he expanded the timeline again—sliding it back, forward, back again—like repetition might make the gap close.It didn’t.From 06:14 in the morning…to 23:31 that same night…Nothing.No location data.No camera footage.No biometric trail beyond the most basic vital signs.Just absence.“If I agreed to forget,” Dominic said slowly, “it wasn’t before the hospital.”Lila looked at him. “What makes you sure?”“Because whatever they needed my consent for,” he replied, eyes locked on the empty stretch of time, “they already had me.”He expanded the window again, overlaying Hale Enterprises’ internal access logs.The blank space didn’t stay blank.Patterns began to emerge.Not movement, but activity.Restricted clearances were activated in clusters.Security protocols initiated and terminated.Medical
The idea that he had chosen to forget her sat between them like a third presence.Lila stood at the edge of Dominic’s office, arms wrapped around herself, eyes fixed on nothing. The morning light had fully arrived now, implying normalcy where none existed. The city outside the glass walls went about its business, unaware that six years ago, something had been quietly erased in one of its brightest towers.“You’re sure?” she asked at last.Dominic didn’t look up from the console. “As sure as I can be about something I don’t remember doing.”“That you consented,” she said. The word tasted wrong in her mouth. “That you signed away your memories.”He exhaled slowly. “Consent doesn’t always mean freedom. Sometimes it just means the absence of alternatives.”She turned to him then. “What were they holding over you?”He hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to answer, but because the answer was still forming.“That’s what we’re about to find out.”He tapped a sequence into the console. The m
Dawn arrived without ceremony.A thin line of pale light crept across the penthouse windows, turning the city below from shadow to steel. The storm had washed everything clean, but inside Hale Tower, nothing felt settled.Dominic hadn’t slept.He stood just outside Eli’s bedroom, leaning one shoulder against the wall, watching Lila where she’d finally succumbed to exhaustion. She sat on the floor beside the bed, back against the frame, head tilted slightly, one hand resting on the blanket as if she might lose Eli if she let go.Eli slept peacefully now. His breathing was slow. Even. Innocent.Too innocent for the things he’d said.Forgetting was safer.The words echoed again, steady and relentless.Dominic straightened slowly, careful not to wake either of them, and turned toward his office.Inside, Dominic closed the door without engaging the automatic lock. He didn’t want the sound. He wanted silence.The phrase replayed in his mind, not as fear, not as panic, but as language.Forge
The penthouse didn’t settle after the storm.Lila felt it in her bones as she moved through the living area, tidying without purpose, straightening pillows that didn’t need straightening.Dominic stood near the windows, arms folded, gaze fixed on the city. He hadn’t moved much since the revelation. Since the words that had cracked something open between them:He’s been watching you ever since.Eli sensed it. Lila knew before he said a word. Children always did.He sat cross-legged on the rug with his crayons spread in a careful semicircle, coloring slower than usual, pressing too hard. The wax squeaked faintly on the paper. He didn’t hum. He didn’t chatter. He didn’t look up when Lila passed.She crouched beside him. “Hey, bug. What’re you drawing?”He shrugged, eyes on the page. “The tower.”Her stomach tightened. “That’s a lot of windows.”“Some of them aren’t real,” he said.She stilled. “What do you mean?”He hesitated, then added quietly, “The dark ones.”Dominic turned from the







