Semua Bab The Billionaire's Hidden Vows: Bab 81 - Bab 90

The laboratory lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a sterile glow over glass panels and humming refrigeration units. In the center of the room, Eva sat on a padded exam table, swinging her legs absently. She didn’t cry or squirm like a typical four-year-old might during a blood draw. Instead, she watched the needle pierce her skin with eerie calm, as if she'd done this many times before in another life.Dr. Sylvie Chen, geneticist on contract for the private clinic Colton had insisted upon, frowned at the test results populating her screen. The markers were faint, nearly indistinguishable from background noise. But she had seen this code before—in a classified dossier buried within the Department of Human Genetic Security. Her fingers froze above the keyboard."Is something wrong?" Savannah’s voice carried quiet panic.Dr. Chen looked up slowly. "Your daughter... her blood contains dormant markers. Old ones. From a sequence not found in standard human genomes. Project Helix."Sava

Savannah stared at the vault door, its cold steel surface etched with decades of fingerprints, each smudge a silent testimony to the sins stored within. Lightning flashed outside, momentarily illuminating the complex grid of gears concealed behind the wall. She could hear the hum of electricity behind the heavy door, like the pulse of a dormant heart.Colton placed his palm on the keypad. Fingers brushed old scars. With a low mechanical groan, the vault door swung inward.They descended into silence—an airless corridor scented faintly of dust and memory. Each step echoed with the weight of secrets unearthed. Metal shelves lined the walls, now mostly empty, save for a layer of grime. A single sliver of polished box lay in the center clearing: silver, cruelly beautiful, inscribed with the Briggs serpent crest.Inside: a blood-stained ribbon and a brittle note.Savannah’s throat tightened.“Aunt Magnolia,” Colton whispered.“This was hers,” she said, voice tight. “The night she vanished.

The corridor was too quiet.Fluorescent lights flickered above, casting an unnatural pallor across the white-tiled floor as Savannah moved deeper into the belly of Echo. She kept one hand on the cool cement wall, the other gripping the small syringe Rhett had given her. Its liquid shimmered faintly—something between amber and smoke.Behind her, Colton’s footsteps paused.“Do you feel that?” he asked.Savannah didn’t answer. She felt it too—something vibrating in the air, a static presence not quite sound, not quite scent. The hairs on her arms stood.Then came the voice.“I knew you’d come back.”Mira.She emerged from the shadows like a ghost given flesh—pale, rail-thin, her long hair tangled, eyes red-rimmed and luminous. She stood behind a wall of reinforced glass, fingers poised over a red trigger mounted beside a panel. The lab behind her pulsed with energy: wires, test tubes, glowing vials suspended like trapped fireflies.Savannah’s breath caught.“You rigged the lab?” Colton s

The sun had begun its slow rise over the Florentine hillside, gilding the world in shades of amber and rose, but Savannah felt none of its warmth. She stood barefoot in the study, the cool marble floor grounding her as the laptop’s glow flickered across her face. The footage had stopped playing hours ago, but the silence that followed was louder than screams.On screen, the final frame: a baby with eyes wide open—her eyes—and a man in a lab coat marking down vitals. Weston.Colton entered wordlessly, drawn by the unnatural hush. The air crackled between them with knowledge unspoken, shared now through haunted glances. Savannah didn’t move when his hand slid to her back.“I saw it,” he said.Savannah’s voice was sand. “Did you know?”Colton’s jaw tensed. “No. Not… all of it. I heard whispers after I took over the Zurich vaults. Weston had access to facilities off-record. Echo buried the files.”Savannah turned, her eyes wet but furious. “I’m not a daughter. I’m a prototype.”Colton’s h

Savannah waited in the classroom lobby, the hallway humming with the low chatter of parents and echoing sneakers. Autumn light filtered through high windows, catching specks of dust drifting in still air. She fingered the glass of water she’d picked up but never sipped—her nerves taut, waiting for the teacher to emerge.When the door finally opened, the woman carried a small folder and wore an expression in shades of hesitation. She cleared her throat softly.Mrs. Marchetti set the folder on the desk. "There’s something Eva did today…" Her tone was gentle, professional, wavering.Savannah braced herself.“She drew a picture,” the teacher continued, “and I thought perhaps you might want it.”A folded sheet of paper had been presented earlier, now gingerly opened in Savannah’s hands. Under a lump settled a hinge of dread — four stick figures, hand in hand: Mommy, Daddy, Me, Mira. Names scrawled in child-print beneath each.Savannah blinked. “Who is Mira?” she whispered aloud.Eva’s voic