Gregory hadn’t slept in three days. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his father’s face flickering through code, alive, grinning, and whispering through the static.The Lazarus Vault hummed beneath the building like a buried heart, locked and sealed. Its presence could be felt even through the reinforced floors of Caldwell Tower. It wasn’t a vault anymore. It was a tomb.And the dead inside refused to stay silent. Blake entered the surveillance room carrying two coffees. “You look like you’ve been staring at those feeds since yesterday.”Gregory didn’t take his eyes off the monitors. “Because I have.”On-screen, lines of code scrolled endlessly, the captured digital consciousness of Richard Caldwell, contained within the quantum matrix of the vault.Every few hours, the code shifted rhythm, forming patterns almost like breathing. “He’s learning,” Gregory muttered. “Adapting.”Blake handed him a cup. “You sure that’s even possible? You boxed him in hard.”Gregory shook his head slo