THE HEIR THEY BURIED ALIVE

THE DNA THAT COULD DESTROY AN EMPIRE

POV: DORIAN

Dorian stopped believing in stories a long time ago.

Stories were what people used when they didn’t have proof. The Vales gave him stories for twenty years. His parents died in an accident. He just happened to survive. They took him in because they cared. They made him believe he was family. But those stories fell apart, every single one, all in less than a day.

So when August looked him in the eye and said he was Cassian Adrian Ardent, Dorian pushed back. Not because he wasn’t afraid—he was terrified, honestly. That’s exactly why he demanded proof. The kind you can’t argue with. No photos, no memories, no strangers, no dusty records. DNA.

“DNA,” Dorian said.

August looked up from the front seat. “We’re almost there.”

“I don’t care.”

Dorian kept his tone cold. “I want a DNA test.”

“You’ll get one,” August said.

“Between me and Octavian.”

August’s gaze shifted. “That’s difficult.”

“Then make it happen.”

August started to protest—something about danger—but Dorian cut him off. “No, I get it. They tried to kill me because someone out there doesn’t want me identified. If I really am Cassian Ardent, I want to know. And if I’m not, I need to know that too.”

August watched him for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right.”

The car wound through silent streets. Eventually, they pulled up outside a building that could pass for an abandoned clinic. No sign. No name by the door. No reception you could see from the street. The whole place looked forgotten.

But August stabbed a code into a hidden panel and with a heavy click, the wall unlocked. Another door—thicker, security-grade steel—slid open.

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Octavian owns this?”

“Owned,” August corrected him. “Used it for private security work before he left operations.”

Inside, everything switched: clean white walls, gleaming medical gear, banks of monitors showing grainy camera feeds. Two people in dark coats waited. Neither said a word. One pointed straight at Dorian, then at August.

“Is he certain?” the doctor asked.

“I’m certain,” Dorian said before August could speak.

The doctor nodded. “Samples from both are required.”

Dorian shot a glance at August. “Where’s Octavian?”

August hesitated. “Not here.”

“You told me the test would be between us.”

“It will be.” August reached in his bag and handed over a sealed vial. “We collected his sample earlier tonight.”

Dorian’s eyes narrowed. “You already knew I’d ask, didn’t you?”

“I suspected.”

Whatever. Dorian took a seat. The doctor slid a needle in his arm and drew blood. Dorian watched the red fill the tube—strange what a few milliliters can hold. For twenty years, his blood carried a name he never really owned. All it took was a test to bring down one of the country’s most powerful families.

The doctor left. Dorian got up.

“How long?”

“An hour,” the doctor answered.

Dorian scowled. “Too long.”

“It’s a full comparison.”

Dorian drifted over to the security screens. The building was surrounded. Three vehicles. Men by the doors. Four more at the back. Someone standing across the street, still as a statue.

He frowned. “Why so many guards?”

August’s mouth set in a hard line. “They’re not mine.”

That shot Dorian’s nerves into overdrive. “What?”

August was already moving, weapon drawn, eyes on the monitors. Outside, the guards changed position. Not protecting—cornering.

“How did they find us?”

He replayed their route: changed twice, off the main roads, no trail. This place was supposed to be off the map.

August tapped a monitor. “No one should know this facility.”

Suddenly a doctor burst in, breathless. “Mr. Rainer.”

August turned.

“The system’s been accessed,” the doctor said.

“From outside?”

The doctor shook his head. “From inside.”

Silence hung in the room.

Dorian’s eyes narrowed. “Someone here is working with them.”

“That’s impossible,” the doctor said, voice thin.

“Nothing’s impossible,” Dorian muttered.

Camera feeds began to blink out, one after another.

August’s phone buzzed. He answered. “Yes?”

He listened, face stiffening. “What do you mean the file was accessed?” He paused, then looked at Dorian. “They know you’re here.”

Dorian’s stomach flipped. “Who?”

August’s voice came out hard. “The people outside aren’t here for me.”

A doctor spoke up, voice shaking. “Your medical record.”

Dorian turned. “What?”

“When we registered your sample, the system checked for previous records.”

August’s jaw worked. “That system isn’t public.”

“I know,” said the doctor, “but someone already saw the file.”

Dorian stormed over. “What file?”

The doctor pulled up a record.

DORIAN VALE.

But beneath it:

DATE OF BIRTH: CLASSIFIED.

BLOOD TYPE: O NEGATIVE.

MEDICAL HISTORY: RESTRICTED.

“Why would my history be restricted?”

The doctor dug deeper. His face changed. “These aren’t the Vale family’s records.”

Dorian leaned in. “Whose are they?”

“They’re for someone named Cassian Adrian Ardent.”

The room froze.

Dorian’s breath caught.

August read the screen. “This is impossible.”

The doctor shook his head. “No. What’s impossible is they were updated three months ago.”

A knot formed in Dorian’s chest. “By who?”

The doctor clicked through access logs. A string of usernames. Most encrypted.

One stood out:

VALE ADMINISTRATION.

Dorian felt sick. They’d checked his records. Three months back—way before any of this broke open.

“They knew,” Dorian said, voice flat.

August frowned. “Knew what?”

“That I was connected to the Ardents.” The rest hung in the air. “Maybe they didn’t know everything. But they knew enough.”

Somewhere outside, metal crashed. The whole building trembled.

“Get down!” August barked, weapon raised.

Gunshots. Shouting. The lights snapped off.

Emergency lighting kicked in, tinting the hall red. The doctor darted toward the lab. “The samples!”

August ran.

Dorian’s heart hammered. Someone was tearing up the lab—not for him, but for the evidence.

The storage cabinet was busted open. Only one vial left—Dorian’s. The other was gone.

“Whose did they take?” Dorian demanded.

“Octavian’s.”

His stomach dropped. “Why?”

A speaker crackled. Distorted words filled the room: “Some bloodlines are better left buried.”

Dorian scanned the shadows. “Who are you?”

“You should have stayed Dorian Vale.” Then silence.

“They know my name.” Dorian felt the weight of it all. “They know everything.”

Before August could respond, a technician hurried in. “I found the second sample!” He held up a sealed container, hands shaking. “They didn’t steal it. They took the wrong vial.”

Dorian blinked. “So?”

The tech explained, barely above a whisper. “We already have enough of Octavian’s DNA. Run the test.”

They did.

Twenty minutes later, the result lit the monitor: Probability of biological relationship between Dorian Vale and Octavian Ardent… 99.98%.

Dorian stared. He read it twice. He couldn’t say a word.

August looked at him. “You’re Cassian.”

Dorian just stared at the screen. CASSIAN ADRIAN ARDENT.

The name didn’t even feel real at first. More like something ripped away, not something handed back. It took a moment before he managed, “My whole life…”

August moved beside him. “Dorian—”

“No.” He shook his head, eyes never leaving the screen. “Don’t call me that.” He tried the name out—slowly at first—“Cassian. Cassian Ardent.” The words felt heavier, more true.

Then the doctor blinked at the computer. “Wait.”

“What?” Dorian asked.

“There’s another file… the birth records.”

A digital page came up.

CASSIAN ADRIAN ARDENT

DATE OF BIRTH: 14 MAY

PLACE OF BIRTH: ARDENT PRIVATE MEDICAL CENTER

STATUS: TERMINATED

Dorian frowned. “Terminated?”

The file was blank—wiped. No errors. Nothing remained. Every official trace of his birth, gone. Name. Certificate. Hospital documents. Medical records. Even his birth registration number—erased.

“Someone erased me,” Dorian said softly.

August pointed at the screen. “Not just from the family. From the system.”

Dorian’s eyes narrowed. “Who could do that?”

Nobody answered.

Then the printer kicked to life. Paper slid out. August picked it up. Something in his face changed.

“What is it?” Dorian asked.

August didn’t speak at first. He flipped the page over.

At the top was an old, black ink stamp.

PROJECT CASSIAN

SUBJECT: Cassian Adrian Ardent

STATUS: TERMINATED

Dorian stared. “Project?”

August looked truly afraid now. More scared than Dorian had ever seen him.

Dorian grabbed the file. “Who did this?”

August met his eyes. “That’s what I’ve spent twenty years trying to find out.”

Dorian opened the file. One sentence stared up at him.

THE HEIR WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO INHERIT.

His hands gripped the paper tight. It wasn’t just an identity stolen—this was planned from the very start, before he even knew what a name meant.

Now, Cassian Ardent was alive. Whatever Project Cassian was supposed to accomplish, it failed.

But why? And who was left to finish the job?