Marcus stood in the hallway. Richard hadn't seen him this close in months. He looked different. Older somehow. Not physically. There was something in his eyes that hadn't been there at the gala. Fear.Marcus's gaze moved to Richard. Then to Grant. Then back to Richard."You're taller than I remember."Richard stared at him. "Don't."Marcus nodded. "Fair enough." Something in his expression suggested the small talk had been less about levity and more about buying himself a second to find his footing before whatever came next.Richard stepped into the hallway. Two armed men stood behind Marcus. Grant immediately raised his gun.Marcus lifted a hand. "They're with me."Grant didn't lower his weapon. Something in his posture made it clear he wasn't going to, not for Marcus, not for anyone who'd spent three years standing by while Richard scraped by on an admin assistant's salary in a building his own father had built.Marcus looked at Richard. "We have to move."Richard didn't. Instead, h

A woman stood on the other side. She was wearing a dark coat. Her hair was streaked with gray. Her face was thinner than the photograph Richard had seen in the house. But her eyes, Richard stopped breathing. He knew those eyes. He had seen them in old photographs. He had spent his entire childhood staring at them.Margaret gasped. "No..."The woman looked at Richard. Tears immediately filled her eyes."Richard."The world seemed to stop. Richard couldn't move. Couldn't speak. His throat closed. Twenty-two years of grief, of birthdays spent quietly wondering what she would have said, of imagined conversations he'd never let himself finish, all of it collapsed into this single narrow doorway in a passage under a house he hadn't known existed that morning.The woman took one trembling step toward him. "Richard..."He shook his head. "No." It was the only word he could produce, some reflexive denial his body reached for before his mind had caught up to what his eyes were telling him.Her

The safehouse was nothing like Black House. There were no grand halls, no expensive paintings, no hidden doors disguised behind portraits. It was a small two-story property on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by trees and an old iron fence.For the first time that night, Richard could hear himself breathe. He sat on the edge of a couch, staring at his hands. They were still shaking.Twenty-two years. His mother had been alive for twenty-two years. And he had spent every one of those years believing she was dead.Across the room, Evelyn sat quietly. She hadn't said much since they arrived. Neither had Richard. Some truths were too large to fit into words.Lucas was near the window, watching the road. Margaret was upstairs resting. Grant had disappeared into another room to make several calls.Richard finally looked at Evelyn. "How old was I when you last saw me?"Evelyn's eyes filled with tears. "Five."Richard swallowed. "I barely remember you.""I know.""Do you remember me?"A

Marcus arrived just before dawn. Richard was waiting.The moment the door opened, Marcus stepped inside. His face was bruised. A bandage covered his left shoulder.Richard stared at him. "You survived."Marcus gave a tired smile. "Apparently."Richard didn't smile. "You knew."Marcus stopped. "About my father."Marcus looked at him. "Yes."Richard's fists tightened. "How long?"Marcus lowered his eyes. "Three years." The words came out quieter than everything he'd said so far, as though the number itself embarrassed him more than any of the specifics that followed it.Richard stepped toward him. "You watched me struggle for three years knowing my father might still be alive.""I did.""You watched me lose Cara."Marcus flinched. "I know.""You watched me work in a company that belonged to my family.""I know."Richard's voice cracked. "And you did nothing."Marcus looked directly at him. "I did one thing.""What?""I kept you alive."Richard stared at him. "That's what everyone says."

The alarm continued. One pulse. Then another. Richard stood frozen in front of the screen.*SUBJECT A-01, ACTIVE.*His father's code. His father's name was nowhere on the screen. But Richard didn't need it. He knew. Alexander was alive. Or at least, the system believed he was."Move," Marcus said.They ran. The corridor stretched deeper into Blackridge, longer than it had any right to be given the building's exterior dimensions, as though the facility had been built to disorient anyone who made it this far inside. Doors opened and closed automatically as they passed, some revealing dark, empty rooms, others sealed shut before Richard could see what was behind them. Lights flickered overhead, dimming and surging in a rhythm that matched nothing Richard could identify.Richard's breathing became heavier. "Where are we going?"Marcus pointed ahead. "The old detention wing."Richard stopped. "Detention?"Marcus looked at him. "This wasn't just a research facility.""What was it?""A holdi