LOGINVictor Kane hated waiting. Yet tonight he had done little else. The lights inside his penthouse office were dim, the glass walls overlooking the city glowing with distant traffic and the slow shimmer of skyscrapers under the evening sky. Rain from the previous night still clung to the streets below, reflecting the restless pulse of the city. Victor sat behind his desk, one hand resting against his chin. The tablet in front of him played a silent video feed. Evelyn’s estate. Security cameras from multiple angles. He had watched the same footage three times already. And each time the same image made his jaw tighten. Damian Blackwood. Still there. Still inside her house. Victor tapped the screen, switching to another camera. The angle showed the kitchen. Earlier that morning. Evelyn stood near the counter, coffee cup in hand. Silas sat at the table. And Damian sat across from him. They were playing chess. Victor watched the boy move a piece across the board. He couldn
The estate felt different the next morning. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, warming the marble floors and quiet hallways. The storm from the night before had passed, leaving the air fresh and the gardens bright outside. But inside the house, everything still felt fragile. Like the balance between them could break with the wrong word. Damian sat at the dining table, a cup of coffee untouched in front of him. He had been awake for hours, replaying the previous night in his head. Silas’s question. The confusion in the boy’s eyes. The way he ran upstairs afterward. Damian had faced corporate wars, hostile takeovers, and billion-dollar negotiations. None of it had ever made him feel as uncertain as a five-year-old child. Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Damian looked up. Silas appeared first, walking slowly into the room. Evelyn followed a few steps behind him. The boy paused when he saw Damian. For a moment neither of them spoke. Then Silas said quietly, “Hi.
Morning arrived quietly after the storm. Sunlight pushed through the tall windows of the estate, soft and pale after the violent night before. The gardens still glistened with rain, droplets clinging to every leaf and branch. Inside the house, the atmosphere felt fragile. Like the entire estate was holding its breath. Evelyn stood outside Silas’s bedroom door for a long moment before knocking gently. “Silas?” No answer. She opened the door slowly. The room was bright with morning light. Toys sat scattered near the carpet, a small stack of books beside the bed. Silas sat on the floor near the window. His knees were pulled up to his chest, his chin resting on them. He didn’t look angry. Just quiet. Too quiet. Evelyn stepped inside. “Good morning.” Silas didn’t look up immediately. “Morning.” She sat beside him on the floor. “You ran away pretty fast last night.” He shrugged slightly. “I was tired.” Evelyn studied him. “Were you upset?” Silas kept looking out the
The word hung in the room long after Damian said it. “Yes.” Silas didn’t move. For a moment the boy simply stood there, staring at him. The storm outside had softened to a quiet rain, but the silence inside the living room felt heavier than the thunder that had shaken the house earlier. Evelyn’s heart pounded painfully in her chest. She hadn’t been ready for this. Not like this. Not with the truth falling into the room so suddenly. Silas looked from Damian to Evelyn. Then back again. His voice came small, uncertain. “You’re… my dad?” Damian took a slow breath. “Yes.” The boy’s brow furrowed slightly as he tried to understand. He looked down at the floor for a moment, processing the words in the way children do—slowly, carefully, trying to fit new pieces into a world that had always seemed simple. Then he looked up again. “But… Mom said my dad wasn’t here.” Evelyn stepped forward quickly. “Silas, sweetheart—” Silas held up a small hand. “Wait.” His eyes returned t
The storm continued through the night. Wind pushed against the tall windows of the estate while rain swept across the gardens outside. Emergency lights still glowed faintly along the hallways after the earlier power outage, casting long shadows across the quiet house. Silas slept in Evelyn’s bed. Or at least he had fallen asleep there. Damian had stayed downstairs in the living room again, unwilling to leave the house while the storm raged and the threat against the boy still felt dangerously close. But sleep refused to come. Too many thoughts crowded his mind. Aurora. Helix. The attempted kidnapping. And the moment in the study earlier that night. He sat on the couch, staring at the dark windows, replaying Evelyn’s words in his head. Hatred doesn’t last forever. The sound of soft footsteps above finally pulled him from his thoughts. Evelyn descended the staircase quietly. She wore a simple sweater now, her hair loose around her shoulders. “You’re still awake,” she sai
The storm arrived after midnight. Wind rattled the tall windows of the estate while rain poured heavily across the gardens outside. Lightning flashed across the sky, briefly illuminating the trees beyond the security walls. Inside the house, most of the lights had been dimmed for the night. Silas had finally fallen asleep hours earlier after insisting Damian read him a story. The boy had resisted going to bed at first, still shaken from the kidnapping attempt the night before. But eventually exhaustion won. Now the estate had grown quiet again. Evelyn sat alone in the study, reviewing the Aurora files spread across the large table. The desk lamp cast a soft pool of light over the documents while the storm outside deepened the shadows around the room. Her eyes burned slightly from reading. The more she learned about the experiment, the more unsettled she felt. Sixteen failed subjects. One survivor. Silas. She closed her eyes briefly and pressed her fingers against her templ
Morning sunlight filtered softly through the tall iron gates of St. Aurelius Academy, turning the polished stone driveway gold. Security vehicles discreetly lined the entrance, their presence subtle enough not to alarm parents yet unmistakable to anyone paying attention. For the first time since l
The first alert arrived at 6:12 a.m. Damian was already awake. Sleep had become a negotiation he rarely won, and the city outside his penthouse windows was still wrapped in gray dawn when his phone vibrated across the glass table. URGENT — MEDIA INQUIRY REQUEST. He ignored it. Another notific
Morning sunlight stretched gently across the private academy grounds, turning the trimmed lawns gold and softening the sharp edges of the modern glass buildings. Children’s laughter carried through the air, bright and careless, untouched by corporate wars or buried betrayals. From across the stree
Morning arrived without mercy. By eight o’clock, every major financial network carried the same headline. BLACKWOOD INDUSTRIES FACES EMERGENCY SHAREHOLDER REVOLT Damian watched the news silently from the back seat of his car as it moved through heavy traffic toward headquarters. Analysts filled







