Semua Bab ALHPA ABRAM: And the four daughter: Bab 71 - Bab 80

"What the hell are you doing with that terminal, Elara? Get away from the console before I break your fingers."Abram’s voice cracked through the silence of the private study like a gunshot. He stood in the doorway, his silhouette a massive, jagged shadow against the amber light of the hallway. He hadn't slept. The skin under his eyes was bruised purple, and the white of his knuckles stood out as he gripped the doorframe, wood creaking under the pressure."The ventilation is humming too loud. I was trying to cycle the fans," Elara lied. She didn't look up. Her fingers danced across the haptic glass, her movements frantic but precise. One final keystroke. A local IP ping. A breadcrumb dropped into the digital dark. Come and find me, you son of a bitch."Step back. Now." Abram crossed the room in three heavy strides. He didn't use words to move her; he used his weight, his chest shoving into her shoulder until she stumbled back toward the velvet settee. He smelled of cold rain and the m

"Where the fuck is the override, Abram? The safe is red. Why is it red?"Elara’s voice cracked. Her fingers fumbled against the cold, brushed steel of the floor-safe hidden beneath the floorboards of the nursery. She didn't look back at the door. She knew he was coming. The heavy, rhythmic thud of his boots on the stairs was a countdown."Step away from the floor, Elara. Now. I won't tell you again."Abram stood in the doorway. He was a jagged silhouette against the dim hallway light. His white shirt was translucent with sweat, clinging to the heavy cording of his shoulders. His jaw creaked as he ground his teeth, a muscle in his cheek twitching with a rhythmic, violent pulse. He didn't reach for his gun. He reached for her, his hand clamping around her bicep."Let go! Ahh! You’re hurting me!""You shouldn't have dug this deep." He hauled her up, his literal weight pinning her against the wall beside the crib. He smelled of rain and iron. His eyes were twin pits of amber fire, fixed o

"Who the fuck is in here? Vane, I told you no interruptions!"Abram’s voice was a jagged blade, cutting through the heavy, sterile air of the penthouse. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, his knuckles turning a bloodless white as he gripped a crystal tumbler of amber liquid. The ice rattled—a sharp, frantic sound in the sudden silence. He didn't look back. His jaw creaked as he ground his teeth, the muscles in his neck cording like steel cables."Abram, the ledger... look at the date on the transfer." Elara stood by the mahogany desk, her fingers trembling as she smoothed the vellum pages of the secret annex. The ink seemed to pulse. "The payments didn't start after the fire. They started six months before. You were funding his 'death' while he was still sleeping in my bed.""Drop the book, Elara.""Answer me! You kept him as a spare heart? A biological backup?" She slammed the ledger shut, the sound a dull thud that echoed off the cold glass walls. "You treated the man I loved l

Elara spoke to the corner of the ceiling, her voice a hollow rasp that barely carried across the padded floor. She sat in the center of the nursery, the white silk of her robe a stark contrast to the sterile, grey cushioning of the walls. She knew the camera was there. Hidden in the glass eye of the plush bear on the shelf. The red pulse of the recording light was a heartbeat in the dark.She let her shoulders slump. A single tear tracked through the dust on her cheek. She leaned her head against the railing of the empty crib, her fingers tracing the words she’d found scratched into the wood. He's watching you.On the other side of the door, the magnetic locks hummed. A heavy, mechanical hiss echoed through the soundproofed space.Abram stepped inside.He looked like a man who had been through a meat grinder. His shirt was untucked, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with tension and smeared with dried grease from the server room. His jaw creaked as he ground his teeth. H

"Eat. You’re shaking so hard the chair is rattling, Elara."John shoved a plastic tray across the bolted-down table. A gray, lukewarm mash sat in a bowl. It smelled like cardboard and floor cleaner. The room was a concrete box buried in the gut of an Alpine peak. No windows. Just the hum of a ventilation system that pushed air too cold for human skin."Where is the medicine, John? My chest... it feels like someone is standing on it."Elara gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white, her fingers digging into the cold metal. Her pulse thudded in her ears—a frantic, irregular beat. The dependency drug Abram had fed her was a claw in her throat, ripping at her nerves."Abram’s little cocktail? We’re flushing it." John sat across from her. He looked the same, but the geometry was wrong. The scar on his cheek was a jagged white lightning bolt under the flickering fluorescent light. He reached out, his hand—warm and steady—covering hers. "Remember the orchard, Elara? The way the wind