The fortune's deadline

chapter 9: legacy threat

The night outside Jason’s window was still, almost too still. The city’s pulse, the one that usually roared with sirens and laughter, felt muted—like the world itself was holding its breath for him.

Malik’s words wouldn’t leave his head. Victor is your father. The phrase looped again and again until it lost all meaning and then came back sharper, more painful. He sat there in silence, gripping the cross that had started everything. It felt heavier now—as if the metal had absorbed his shame.

He wanted to scream, to punch something, to destroy every wall that kept the truth hidden all these years. But the only sound in the room was the slow beeping of the holographic screen and Stephanie’s uneven breathing beside him.

Her body was getting weaker. The extensions she had gained by sharing his tasks were fading. Her skin had gone pale, lips cracked, hands trembling even when she tried to smile at him.

“Jason…” she whispered. “You’re shaking again.”

“I’m fine.”

“You haven’t eaten.”

He laughed softly, without humor. “We’re both dying, Steph. What’s food going to fix?”

The words hung between them like ghosts. He hated himself for saying them. The screen flickered, displaying the countdown again: Days left: 132. Every digit felt like a nail in his chest.

---

He walked to the small mirror near the bed. His reflection looked older, harder. The boy who used to deliver pizza boxes was gone. What stared back was someone who’d traded innocence for survival.

He remembered Malik’s eyes before the man died — not cold, not cruel, just sorry.

“Why?” Jason had asked him.

Malik’s voice had trembled. “Because he’s your father… and you were never supposed to live past sixty days.”

Now those words tore through him. His father—the man he had cursed, the one who ruined orphans, stole companies, manipulated lives—was the same man whose blood ran in his veins.

He punched the mirror. Glass cracked, slicing his knuckles. The pain was clean, almost merciful. He stared at his bleeding hand and muttered, “I’m nothing like him.”

Stephanie stirred behind him. “Jason, please… don’t lose yourself.”

He turned toward her, jaw tight. “He made me an experiment, Steph. My life, this clock—it’s all part of something he built. I’m not even sure I was meant to have a choice.”

Her eyes softened. “Then make one now. Prove you do she said as she leaned forward bringing her lips closer attempting to kiss him but Jason withdrew back because he had so much going on in his mind right now

He spent the next few days in silence, scrolling through encrypted data Malik had left behind. Every file he opened made him feel smaller. There were reports—charts of his health, his brain activity, emotional triggers, even moments of despair. The project’s name blinked at the top:

THE LEGACY PROGRAM: PHASE SEVEN – JASON V.

There were others before him. Six failed subjects. All dead.

His stomach twisted. Every success, every extra day he earned, was being recorded. The holographic screen wasn’t magic—it was design. His father’s design.

He slammed the tablet shut. “He’s been watching me this whole time.”

Stephanie reached out, resting a trembling hand over his. “Then let’s stop being his puppets.”

He looked at her, really looked at her—the pain, the guilt, the love still buried beneath all that ruin. “You’d stand against him? Even after what happened between us?”

Tears filled her eyes. “Jason, I betrayed you once. I won’t do it again. I want to make this right.”

He wanted to believe her. God, he wanted to. But trust wasn’t something he could give freely anymore. Still, when she coughed blood into her palm, he caught her before she fell. Her head rested against his chest, weak heartbeat thudding softly.

“I’ll fix this,” he said, voice cracking. “Even if I have to burn everything he built.”

---

That night, a new notification blinked on the screen.

NEW DIRECTIVE: “THE LEGACY IS WATCHING. COMPLETE THE TEST OR SHE DIES.”

Below it, a short video loaded. It showed Stephanie in her sleep—filmed from somewhere above them. A camera, hidden in the ceiling. Jason’s blood ran cold.

He ripped open the vents, scanning for lenses, wires, anything. The system voice followed him, calm and mechanical:

> “Test parameters initiated. Subject must locate The Source File before sunrise. Failure results in termination of partner link.”

“Partner link…” he repeated. “You mean her life?”

The screen didn’t answer, just ticked down the hours.

06:00:00

05:59:59

Jason looked at Stephanie, sleeping weakly. For the first time in months, fear truly took over him—not of dying, but of losing her before he could save her.

---

He traced the clues in Malik’s data. Every symbol pointed to one place: the main headquarters of V-Corp, Victor’s empire. The building’s rooftop antenna looked almost identical to the symbol engraved on his cross.

He took a deep breath. “It started with the cross. It’ll end with it too.”

He left Stephanie under safewatch from one of his old allies and drove through the dead night toward the glowing skyscraper. The city lights blurred by, memories flashing like ghosts—the orphanage, Mark’s mockery, Stephanie’s betrayal, Malik’s apology, and his mother’s voice, faint in his mind:

“Never let darkness decide who you are.”

---

The building loomed like a monster made of glass and steel. Jason walked through the front doors, the holographic cross pulsing faintly in his palm. As he entered the elevator, a familiar voice echoed through the speaker:

“Welcome home, son.”

His heart stopped. “Victor…”

The voice was smooth, deep, proud. “You’ve done well surviving this long. You were the only one strong enough to endure the Legacy. Every failure before you paved the way.”

Jason’s teeth clenched. “You turned me into your experiment.”

“No,” Victor replied calmly. “I gave you purpose. Humanity is weak, sentimental, distracted by morality. I made you efficient.”

Jason laughed bitterly. “You made me broken.”

“And yet you keep surviving. That’s the proof of success.”

The elevator doors opened to a massive hall filled with holograms of faces—orphans, men, women—all tagged FAILED. In the center, Victor stood, older now, tall, in a black suit, holding the same type of cross Jason had.

---

Jason’s body trembled. “You killed them. You used them.”

Victor smiled faintly. “They volunteered. To save humanity from its emotions.”

“I never volunteered!”

“You were a child. You didn’t have to.”

Jason lunged forward, but Victor raised a hand. The holographic screen around them blinked. Stephanie appeared, unconscious, hooked to wires.

“You have until dawn,” Victor said coldly. “Give me the Source File, or her heartbeat stops.”

Jason’s breath caught. “You can’t—”

“I can. And I will, unless you finally accept what you were born for.”

The timer on the screen started ticking again.

03:59:59.

Victor turned away, his voice echoing through the hall: “Every second you waste brings her closer to death. Choose, Jason. Be my legacy—or bury her with your morality.”

Jason dropped to his knees, trembling. The cross burned hot in his palm, the holographic light flickering like a heartbeat. He wanted to scream, to break everything, but all he could do was stare at the screen where Stephanie’s weak pulse flashed.

---

The final shot of the scene:

Jason, kneeling in the cold glow of the monitors, whispering,

> “I’ll save her… even if it kills me.”

The screen blinked, and new words appeared:

“LEGACY PHASE TEN INITIATED.”

Then static—

—and a single chilling message across the screen:

“SUBJECT MOTHER: STATUS – ALIVE.”

Jason’s breath froze.

His mother was supposed to be dead.

Everything he thought he knew about his life shattered again in one instant.

The room filled with alarm lights. The screen flared blood-red.

And then