2025-11-06 03:44:56Inside the Georgetown home, candlelight trembled, casting lengthy shadows on the walls that were discolored with water. Wax gathered like blood when the flame sat low in a broken coffee mug. As she knelt on the cracked floor, Tatiana Everly gave Mira a spoonful of watery cereal. With legs bouncing and dark curls twisted around a face too small for her years, the six-year-old reclined on a folded blanket.
"Why does the milk taste funny, Mommy?" Mira's nose wrinkled as she asked.
Tatiana flashed a brittle smile. "Because, sweetheart, we're reserving the creamy stuff for pancakes." She fed the most recent eviction notice to the sink's flame after crumpling it. Ash drifted like filthy snow, and paper twisted black.
Mira's pencil scuffed up a ripped envelope. A black-masked figure with a whirling cape and construction paper-cut eyes. She said, "This is Daddy." "He battles the villains."
Tatiana bowed her chest. With the writing still fresh from seven years ago, she took a quick look at the divorce decree on the counter. Benjamin's attorney was looming and the signature was forced. The fire in her throat was swallowed.
There was a single, silent flash from a camera outside the kitchen window. Lucy Martin was crouching behind the azalea bush, staring at Mira's drawing with her telephoto lens. "The kid is drawing the Phantom," she texted Benjamin. Enough evidence?
The flash escaped Tatiana's notice. Mira was hoisted and placed on the counter by her. "Come on, bedtime?"
Milk pouring down her chin, Mira nodded. "Is Daddy coming over tonight?"
Tatiana lied, "Soon." She tasted baby shampoo and salt and kissed the girl's forehead.
The bedroom above smelled of lavender detergent and mildew. One quilt, one mattress, and a broken window that looked out onto the alley. Pulling the cover to Mira's chin, Tatiana nestled her in. “Little star, close your eyes.”
Tatiana's sleeve was in Mira's grasp. "Sing the song of the moon."
Tatiana's voice was faint and broke in spots as she hummed. Mira's breathing stabilized. Tatiana sat on the floor with her back against the bedframe while the girl slept. She opened a shoebox beneath the mattress and found the patent documents Benjamin had stolen, a pressed violet from their first date, and Alexander's old watch that had stopped at 3:17.
Her cell rang. Unknown figure. She disregarded it. Buzz once more. Downstairs, the front door creaked.
Tatiana stopped. She carefully removed the Glock (Alexander's old service piece, serial filed off) from the nightstand. Barefoot and silent on warped planks, she slipped to the hallway.
A wet streak appeared on the rug as a blood-soaked package slid under the door.
Tatiana's heart pounded. She pressed her toe against the envelope. hefty and thick. She tore it open. She was wearing ivory lace and Alexander was wearing dress blues in their wedding photo, which was now slashed scarlet ear to ear. A flash disk clattered out of it.
Her old laptop's drive was stuck in. Static crackled, followed by Alexander's smoke-and-gravel voice: "Tat. I'm out if you're listening. Warehouse Anacostia, Pier 9, 0300. Bring Mira. Never put your trust in anyone. My blood is the foundation of Benjamin's Senate war fund. The heir they buried was Mira. Don't come at all, or come by yourself.
The tape ended. Autoplay played a second file: The redacted and subsequently unredacted birth certificate of Mira (father: Alexander Harrington, net worth of 2.4 billion at the time of filing).
Tatiana's hands trembled. She ejected the drive, crushed it beneath her heel, and erased the file.
She felt a pinge from her burner. Whitaker's personal assistant and former college roommate Isabella Montgomery: A hacked alert was recently released. Phantom is still alive. The tower is under lockdown.
Tatiana typed: Benjamin, where are you?
Senate fundraiser, in response. Four hours are all yours.
Tatiana put Alexander's old hoodie on and holstered the Glock at her lower back. Lifting Mira, she covered her with the quilt. The girl shifted.
"Mom?"
"Shhh. It's adventure time.
Tatiana took Mira's crayon artwork downstairs and tucked it into her pocket. She opened the rear door. The alley smelled like rain and trash. With the camera up, Lucy Martin's silhouette emerged from the darkness.
The Glock was leveled by Tatiana. "Lucy, get out of here."
Lucy grinned. "Child support is inferior to Benjamin's payment."
Tatiana shot into the brick next to Lucy's head once. The woman stumbled and fell. Mira bounced against Tatiana's hip as she ran.
During their honeymoon, Alexander taught her how to hot-wire the neighbor's Civic. The engine gave a live cough. She threw the quilt over Mira and belted her in the back.
"Baby, close your eyes."
Tatiana rolled down the street with her headlights off. A black SUV with squealing tires rolled up from the curb in the rearview mirror.
Tatiana was blown away. The Civic's engine whined and it fishtailed. She blew a red light and turned sharply left onto M Street. The SUV's grille filled her mirror as it remained stuck.
"Hold tight, Mira."
Dispersing passersby, Tatiana jerked the wheel and climbed the sidewalk. The SUV trailed behind, licking her tail with its bumper. Sparks flew as she sideswiped a trashcan.
Her cell rang. Alexander. She pressed the speaker button.
"Are you moving, Tat?" The sound of the road was broken by his speech.
"Being tailed." tinted black Suburban. Lucy sold us out.
"Pier 9." I'll take care of the tail.
"How?"
"Observe the heavens."
A drone with no lights and a matte black finish flashed overhead. It dropped something little and banked hard. Spiderwebs on the SUV's windshield (EMP pulse). The engine died. The car crashed into a fire hydrant and coasted. The water sprayed.
Tatiana let out a breath. "Show-off."
"Antiquated customs."
She looked at Mira, who was still sleeping behind the quilt. You were drawn by her today. mask and all of it.
The line was silent. "I'll be there," follows.
The call was terminated by Tatiana. Three streets from the warehouse district, she abandoned the Civic and carried Mira across broken glass and chain-link. The smell of dead fish and diesel filled the Anacostia River.
Pier 9 (corrugated iron, rusting warehouse, one red exit sign blinking) loomed. The gravel crunched beneath Tatiana's boots. With the Glock ready, she adjusted Mira's weight.
The side door remained ajar. Inside, the candlelight from home was sucked up by darkness.
Her voice echoed as she called, "Alex?"
The match raged. Scar livid in the red glare, Alexander stood beneath the exit sign. For the first time in years, his eyes were gentle as he wore the mask pressed up on his forehead.
Tatiana's knees gave out. Mira muttered as she stirred. Alexander went four steps across the room, picked up the girl, and placed her on a pile of crates.
He then turned to Tatiana. Nothing to say. Only the crash of seven years gone.
Her hands pounded his chest once, twice, then she clutched as she slammed into him. He encircled her tightly enough to cause bruises. She tasted salt, it was hard to tell if it was her tears or his.
Desperate, his teeth clashed as his mouth met hers. She drew blood by biting his bottom lip. His hands crept under the hoodie, his palms burning against her back as he moaned.
He rasped against her throat, "Missed you."
"Stop talking." She tugged his hair and drew him in.
Mira's drowsy voice interrupted: "Mommy?"
Their lips continued to connect as they froze. Tatiana drew back, panting. Alexander put a hand to her forehead.
"Later," he said.
Tatiana glanced to Mira and nodded. The girl rubbed her eyes and sat up. "Daddy?"
Alexander dropped to his knees. "Hey, tiny star."
Arms around his neck, Mira bounded off the crates. His face was buried in her hair as he raised her. Tatiana watched with a fresh ache in her chest.
The red exit sign then blew up. Sparks flew. As steadily as a pulse, a sniper's laser blossomed on Tatiana's heart.
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Chapter 190: Sealed Breath
In the sudden silence, the seed's pulse sounded like a silent thunderclap. It wasn’t a threat. It was true. There was a period at the end of a sentence, but it had rolled under the desk and was just waiting to be picked up. They didn’t speak. They merely stared at the little, black glimmer on the white sand. It was beneath the slide, or where the slide had been, but it was now only a metal curve protruding from the dune that had been washed by the sand. “We could leave it,” Alexander remarked, his voice scratchy. He wrapped a protecting arm around Mira, who was quiet, watching the seed with a child’s somber interest. “Bury it deeper. Forget it’s here.” “It would grow,” Tatiana responded, her own voice weary beyond measure. "In the dark." without anyone to observe it. What kind of story blooms in the dark, alone?” She thought about Benjamin, nurturing his hatred in seclusion. "A perverse one." A spiteful one. Thus, we demolish it. Right now. He took a step toward it, his foot sinki
Chapter 189: Death Fruit
The playground was eerily quiet. There was no longer any wind. The distant sounds of the suburb were gone. On the wood chips, it was just the three of them: Tatiana on her knees, a sobbing seven-year-old Mira clutching to her, and Alexander Harrington's elderly, breathless husk with a jar of his final sigh sitting on his ribcage. The floating orchard was gone. The sky was a neutral, flat blue. The golden swing lay neglected, its chains now dull and inactive. All that existed was this finale. CHAPTER 400. Tatiana stared at the jar. The label was final. Absolute. This was not feasible. It was a receipt. For all the struggles, loops, and love that had unavoidably brought us to this point. To a playground where her spouse died of old age in minutes, his life-force robbed to pay the mortgage of 215 destroyed tragedies. Mira’s small hands clutched her mother’s arm. “Is Daddy sleeping?” The innocent question was a knife. Tatiana said in a cracked voice, "No, sweetheart." “He’s… gone.” I
Chapter 188: Sky Swing
The fruit was a gut-punch of recollection made tangible. Tatiana could hear the ghost of her own cry, feel the slick heat of Alexander's blood through her clothes, and smell the cordite and champagne from the gala. Trapped in that sphere of smoked glass, it was all there, a museum display of her biggest failure. To reach Mira, she would have to fly past it. Its proximity seemed toxic, a psychological radiation that threatened to suck her back into that moment, to make her feel the death that had defined so much of their war. Mira swung, heedless in her enchanted sleep, a trapped princess in a floating necropolis of horrible endings. This is his creation, Tatiana realized, hovering, her twilight wings beating the thin air. In order to trap her among the ruins, he enticed her up here. To remind me of the cost of every victory. Benjamin weaponized their own past since he was no longer able to prevail in a straight fight. She gazed from the Death Fruit to her daughter. A choice. Confr
Chapter 187: Swing Altar
The sight of their daughter, ankle-locked to a golden swing and soaring into the heavens with a puppet’s laugh, broke something in Alexander. The cool, strategic half of him was destroyed, leaving only raw, paternal terror. He yelled, "MIRA!" and lunged for the swing set. However, the swing was no longer fixed to the playground's typical A-frame. The cables stretched skyward, unimaginably long, vanishing into the cloud layer. The actual machinery was someplace in the heavens; the set was really a stand-in. Harrison-13 stood back, his hands in his pockets, gazing with a peaceful, inquisitive look, as if seeing an interesting science experiment. He was no longer the shy boy next door. He served a purpose. A plot device. Tatiana didn’t spend breath on shouts. She stared down at her own body, at the ripped bridal robe. She focused on the region between her shoulder blades, where the storm-cloud wings had erupted. They were gone, but the canal was burnt open. The phantom agony served a
Chapter 186: Priest Smile
The word “granddaughter” hung in the fragrant air of the false cathedral, a spider’s thread of possession. Benjamin’s smile returned, thinner now, harsher. The rebellious bride, Tatiana, was not in his line of sight. His sights were on the prize, the heir. Standing motionless in her maid of honor's gown on Mira-20. Benjamin reiterated, his voice a calming, toxic tune, "The story must go on." We transplant to another branch if one fails to produce fruit. The tree is alive. The orchard endures.” He extended a hand toward Mira. “Come, child. Take your mother’s place at the altar. Accept your legacy. After all, you have a birthright to it. Mira remained still. Her eyes were wide, fixated on Tatiana. She was the seventy-year-old female who had nibbled the apple from Chapter 1. She was aware of the price of legacy. Alexander discovered his voice, a rough rasp of sound. “You don’t touch her.” Benjamin’s gaze flicked to him, amused. “Or what, Alexander? Will you use your naked hands to de
Chapter 185: Gold Wedding
It was triggered by the taste. A circuit was finished when a synapse fired. The rented ranch house, the stormy backyard, the chain-link fence, all of it melted like a watercolor painting in the rain. The sensations from the fruit became reality. The aroma of myrrh and orange flowers permeated the thick, fragrant air of a large, packed room. The sensation of silk became the heavy, structured weight of a wedding gown on her torso. The organ's sound gave way to the grand, soaring sounds of Wagner's "Bridal Chorus." Tatiana blinked. In a vast, gothic church, she stood at the end of a long, red-carpeted aisle. Stained glass windows portraying not saints, but elaborate, abstract patterns of thorns and roses, reflect colored light on the stone floor. Hundreds of guests sat in pews, their faces a jumble of happiness and sorrow. All were dressed in impeccable, formal clothing. She was clutching a bouquet of white roses and black calla lilies. She looked to her left. Alexander stood there
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