The photograph on my phone showed a man who should have been nearly ninety.
He looked thirty-five.
Dark hair.
Smooth skin.
Strong shoulders beneath a black shirt.
Only his eyes looked old.
Not tired.
Old.
There was a difference.
Behind him, Samuel Pierce sat tied to a chair.
Blood had dried beneath his nose.
The message beneath the photograph remained on my screen.
**YOUR GRANDFATHER WOULD LIKE TO MEET YOU.**
I looked at Daniel Vale.
“Is he Reginald?”
Daniel didn't answer.
Alexander did.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
“You said Reginald was behind Project EVE.”
“He was.”
“Then who is this?”
Alexander stared at the photograph.
“Edmund Hart.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Marcus frowned.
“Who?”
“My grandfather.”
Claire stared at him.
“Your grandfather?”
Alexander nodded.
“Daniel Hart's grandfather too.”
I looked back at the photograph.
“That man?”
“Yes.”
“He looks younger than me.”
“I know.”
“How old is he?”
Alexander swallowed.
“Ninety-six.”
Nobody spoke.
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the alternative was accepting that the man in the photograph had somehow avoided seventy years of aging.
“No.”
Alexander nodded toward the underground garden.
“You've seen enough today to know that word isn't useful.”
I looked at Lucy.
Nine years old.
Maybe.
The other children stood near Claire and Evelyn.
Their ages suddenly felt uncertain.
“What did Project EVE do?”
Alexander walked toward one of the medical cabinets.
“Originally? Nothing like this.”
“Then explain him.”
“I can't.”
“You were the researcher.”
“I studied genetic disease.”
“You studied aging.”
“Later.”
“How much later?”
“When Edmund found me.”
“Your grandfather recruited you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he had already been experimenting on himself.”
Rebecca whispered, “Reginald worked for Edmund.”
Alexander nodded.
“All of us did, eventually.”
Elena looked sick.
“My father too?”
“Yes.”
“What was Reginald's role?”
“Administration. Identity management. Recruitment.”
“Recruitment?”
Daniel Vale laughed bitterly.
“Kidnapping.”
Alexander didn't argue.
I looked at the message again.
“Why does Edmund call himself my grandfather?”
Nobody answered.
“Alexander is supposedly my father.”
Rebecca stiffened.
“We don't know that.”
“Daniel Vale might be my father.”
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
“We don't know that either.”
“So how is Edmund my grandfather?”
Alexander's expression changed.
“He knows something we don't.”
That was the obvious answer.
It was also the worst one.
---
The children were moved upstairs.
Not into locked rooms.
Into the mansion.
Lucy stood in the foyer staring upward at the enormous chandelier.
“Is this outside?”
The question broke me.
“No.”
“But we're not downstairs.”
“No.”
“Can we go outside?”
I looked toward the glass doors leading to the lawn.
“Yes.”
Daniel Hart's recorded voice returned to me.
*You were always better at doors than I was.*
I opened them.
All seven children stopped.
Wind entered the foyer.
Real wind.
Not climate-controlled ventilation.
Emma stepped onto the terrace first.
She lifted her face toward the sun.
Then laughed.
The others followed.
Within seconds, they were running across the grass.
Noah and Liam chased each other toward the lake.
Claire shouted for them to stay away from the water.
Ethan dropped to his knees and touched the ground.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Dirt.”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
“I've never touched real dirt.”
I turned away because I couldn't let him see me cry.
My father's beautiful house stood behind me.
For years, I had believed wealth meant safety.
Now I understood that money could build cages no one recognized as cages.
I looked toward the eastern gate.
Police vehicles still came and went.
Trust security had locked down the estate.
Somewhere north, Samuel Pierce was being held by a ninety-six-year-old man who looked thirty-five.
And that man wanted me.
“I'm going to St. Augustine.”
Rebecca answered immediately.
“No.”
“I knew you'd say that.”
“You are not going alone.”
“The message says alone.”
“So did the motel message.”
“And we survived because I didn't listen.”
“Exactly.”
I looked at Marcus.
“You're coming.”
“Yes.”
Daniel Vale stepped forward.
“So am I.”
“No.”
His expression hardened.
“Why?”
“Because if Edmund wants Subject E-17, bringing Subject Zero seems unwise.”
Marcus almost smiled.
“She has a point.”
Daniel glared at him.
“Don't enjoy this.”
“I've missed fifty years of annoying you.”
“You can make up for it later.”
That word.
Later.
I liked it.
For the first time that day, someone spoke as though there would be one.
---
Before leaving, Rebecca asked to speak to me privately.
We went to my father's library.
The hidden hatch remained open.
She closed it.
Then she sat in Daniel Hart's chair.
For a moment, she looked exhausted.
Not mysterious.
Not dangerous.
Just tired.
“I need to tell you something before you meet Edmund.”
“Another secret?”
“Yes.”
“At least you're admitting it.”
She almost smiled.
“I deserved that.”
I sat opposite her.
“What?”
“When I said Alexander might be your father, I was repeating what Reginald told me.”
“I know.”
“When I said Daniel Vale might be your father, I was repeating what the archive says.”
“Yes.”
“But there was another man.”
Of course there was.
I leaned back.
“Go ahead.”
“I was working at the clinic before Project EVE.”
“As a nurse.”
“Yes.”
“There was a patient.”
“Daniel Vale?”
“No.”
“Alexander?”
“No.”
“Reginald?”
Her face tightened.
“No.”
“Edmund?”
She didn't answer.
My stomach turned.
“No.”
“Ava—”
“No.”
“He looked different then.”
“He looks thirty-five now.”
“He looked older when I knew him.”
“How much older?”
“Fifty, maybe.”
“And you…”
I couldn't finish.
Rebecca looked ashamed.
“He was charming.”
“Was it consensual?”
She went very still.
That answer mattered more than biology.
“Yes.”
I exhaled.
“Then don't look ashamed.”
Her eyes filled.
“I was twenty-four.”
“And he was?”
“I thought fifty.”
“But actually?”
“Seventy.”
I rubbed my temples.
“So Edmund could be my father.”
“Yes.”
“Which would make his message—”
“Technically correct.”
My grandfather?
No.
If Edmund were my father, he wasn't my grandfather.
Unless the message deliberately referred to another relationship.
“Then why call himself my grandfather?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Did you become pregnant?”
“I thought I did.”
“What does that mean?”
“I had a positive test.”
“And?”
“Voss told me I miscarried.”
My pulse accelerated.
“When?”
“Six weeks before the embryo transfer I was told produced you.”
“So you could have been pregnant already.”
“Yes.”
“With Edmund's child.”
“Yes.”
“And then they implanted another embryo.”
“Possibly.”
“Can that happen?”
“I don't know.”
Neither did I.
At this point, biology seemed less reliable than lies.
“Why tell me now?”
“Because Edmund will use uncertainty.”
“He's been doing that without meeting me.”
“He'll tell you something true.”
I frowned.
“Why is that dangerous?”
“Because then he'll attach a lie to it.”
That sounded familiar.
Every skilled manipulator in my life used the same technique.
Truth as bait.
“What truth?”
Rebecca looked toward the safe.
“Something about Daniel Hart.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“He wasn't dying when we faked his death.”
I stared.
“You said—”
“I never said he was.”
“Elena said she was there.”
“She was.”
“My mother was there.”
“Yes.”
“Then why fake it?”
“Because Daniel had discovered Edmund was still alive.”
I thought of the medical bed beneath the house.
Lucy saying Mr. Hart had visited yesterday.
“Dad was alive yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“Is he alive now?”
Rebecca's eyes dropped.
“I don't know.”
“Where did he go?”
“St. Augustine.”
My heart stopped.
“Why?”
“To kill Edmund.”
---
We left at 5:12 p.m.
Marcus drove.
I sat beside him.
Two trust-security vehicles followed at a distance despite the instruction to come alone.
We were done obeying anonymous kidnappers.
St. Augustine sat beyond the northern ridge.
The facility had officially closed eight years earlier.
According to public records, the buildings were awaiting demolition.
According to my family, it was apparently the center of the universe.
We arrived just before six.
Stone walls surrounded the property.
The main building looked like an old monastery.
Narrow windows.
Gray roof.
A chapel tower.
No visible guards.
The front gates were open.
Marcus stopped the car.
“Too easy.”
“Yes.”
“You still want to go in?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
I opened the door.
“But I'm going.”
He smiled faintly.
“Definitely Daniel's daughter.”
“Which Daniel?”
“Fair point.”
Inside, the building smelled of bleach and old wood.
Emergency lights glowed along the corridors.
A speaker clicked.
Then Edmund's voice.
“Welcome, Ava.”
I looked upward.
“Where is Samuel?”
“Safe.”
“Show me.”
A door unlocked.
We followed the corridor.
Marcus remained half a step ahead of me.
“Your companion wasn't invited.”
“I don't go places alone anymore.”
“Good.”
That surprised me.
“You approve?”
“Isolation makes people controllable.”
I stopped.
The sentence sounded like something Daniel Hart would say.
Marcus noticed.
“Keep moving.”
We reached an old treatment room.
Samuel Pierce sat inside.
Untied.
Drinking coffee.
I stared.
“You're not a prisoner.”
He looked ashamed.
“No.”
Marcus raised his gun.
“Hands where I can see them.”
Samuel complied.
“You staged the photograph.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Edmund asked.”
“Why would you help him?”
Samuel looked at me.
“Because he saved my life.”
“From what?”
“Cancer.”
I almost laughed.
“Of course.”
“No. Literally.”
Samuel unbuttoned his collar.
A surgical scar ran along his chest.
“Stage four lymphoma. Twenty-two years ago.”
“You should be dead.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“EVE.”
The word filled the room.
“Project EVE wasn't only about slowing aging,” Samuel said.
“It was about cellular repair.”
Marcus lowered the gun slightly.
“Did it work?”
“Sometimes.”
“At what cost?”
Samuel looked away.
“Children.”
There it was.
“Why children?”
“Stem-cell adaptability. Genetic plasticity.”
My stomach turned.
“You used them as material.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Templates.”
That was somehow worse.
“What does Edmund want with me?”
Samuel looked toward the camera in the corner.
“I can't tell you.”
“Because he's listening?”
“Yes.”
I looked directly at the camera.
“Then let's stop wasting time.”
A door opened behind us.
Edmund Hart entered.
The photograph had not exaggerated.
He looked thirty-five.
Maybe thirty-eight.
But his eyes were ancient.
He wore a dark suit.
No guards.
No visible weapon.
Marcus stared at him.
“You're ninety-six.”
Edmund smiled.
“Ninety-eight next spring.”
“How?”
“Luck.”
“Try again.”
“Science and luck.”
He looked at me.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then:
“You have Rebecca's mouth.”
My skin crawled.
“Are you my father?”
“Possibly.”
“That's not why you called yourself my grandfather.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because genetically, family becomes complicated when material is reused.”
I hated the sentence.
“Explain.”
Edmund walked toward a table.
On it were three folders.
He opened the first.
A photograph of Rebecca.
The second.
A photograph of Daniel Vale as a child.
The third.
Mine.
“Project EVE's most successful line began with Daniel Vale.”
“Subject Zero.”
“Yes.”
“He's alive.”
“I know.”
“You experimented on him.”
“I saved him.”
Marcus moved forward.
“Careful.”
Edmund looked at him.
“Marcus. You have Margaret's anger.”
“Don't say her name.”
“She loved you.”
“She spent her life hiding us from you.”
“Exactly.”
Marcus almost struck him.
I raised a hand.
“Not yet.”
Edmund smiled.
“You do have Daniel Hart's discipline.”
“He raised me.”
“Yes.”
“You knew.”
“I always knew.”
“Then why let him keep me?”
“Because he was useful.”
Rage surged through me.
“He loved me.”
“I know.”
“Did you?”
Edmund seemed genuinely surprised.
“Did I what?”
“Love anyone.”
For the first time, his expression changed.
A tiny wound.
Then gone.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Margaret.”
Marcus laughed.
“You hunted her children.”
“I was trying to recover what Reginald stole.”
“You're all the same.”
Edmund ignored him.
I pointed toward the folders.
“Who am I?”
“Biologically?”
“Yes.”
He opened another file.
“Rebecca Shaw is your birth mother.”
“I know.”
“Evelyn Hart contributed the egg used to create one embryo.”
“I know.”
“Daniel Vale contributed paternal genetic material.”
“I know.”
Edmund smiled.
“No, you don't.”
He removed a laboratory report.
“The embryo created from Evelyn and Daniel Vale did not become you.”
My heart sank.
“Then?”
“It became Subject E-12.”
Ryan.
“No. The registry says Alexander and Rachel created Ryan.”
“The registry contains deliberate falsehoods.”
“Everyone says that whenever they dislike an answer.”
Edmund laughed.
“Fair.”
He slid another report toward me.
“Ryan was created from Daniel Vale and Rachel.”
I stared.
“Then Ryan and I—”
“Not siblings.”
Relief came before I could stop it.
Not because it changed what Ryan had done.
But because one horror had been removed.
“Then who is my father?”
Edmund opened the final page.
“My genetic material was used.”
Rebecca's suspicion.
I looked at him.
“So you are my father.”
“Partly.”
I hated that word.
“What does partly mean?”
“You were not created from one paternal source.”
Marcus whispered, “Mosaic.”
Edmund looked impressed.
“Yes.”
“What is that?”
Samuel answered.
“Multiple embryonic cell lines combined very early in development.”
I felt sick.
“You made me from multiple embryos?”
Edmund nodded.
“Three.”
“Why?”
“To test cellular compatibility.”
“Who were the other donors?”
“One was me.”
“And?”
“One was Daniel Vale.”
My pulse accelerated.
“And the third?”
Edmund looked toward Marcus.
Marcus's face changed.
“No.”
Edmund smiled.
“Reginald Shaw.”
Elena's father.
The man who hunted me.
Three paternal sources.
One maternal egg source?
Perhaps more.
I could no longer think of myself as a family tree.
I was a laboratory record.
“Why am I alive?”
Edmund's smile vanished.
“That is the important question.”
“What?”
“The other mosaic subjects died before age five.”
I stopped breathing.
“Why didn't I?”
“We don't know.”
“And that's why you want me.”
“Yes.”
“To experiment on me.”
“To understand you.”
“No.”
“You may carry the mechanism that made my treatment possible.”
I stared at his young face.
“You used something from me.”
Silence.
My blood turned cold.
“When?”
Edmund didn't answer.
“WHEN?”
“Twenty-two years ago.”
I would have been a child.
“What did you take?”
“Bone marrow.”
Marcus raised his gun.
“You touched her?”
Edmund ignored him.
“Daniel Hart consented.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“No, he wouldn't.”
“He did.”
“You're lying.”
Edmund pressed a button.
A screen activated.
Daniel Hart appeared.
Younger.
Sitting in a medical office.
Beside him stood a four-year-old girl.
Me.
My father signed a form.
My stomach collapsed.
Audio played.
**This is the only procedure?**
Samuel's younger voice answered.
**One extraction. She'll be sedated.**
Daniel looked toward me.
**And then you leave her alone.**
Another voice.
Edmund.
**Yes.**
Daniel signed.
I stared at the screen.
“He traded my marrow for my safety.”
Edmund nodded.
“And it worked.”
“You used it on yourself.”
“Yes.”
“That's why you don't age.”
“Partly.”
Marcus looked disgusted.
“You built immortality from a child.”
Edmund's expression hardened.
“I built survival.”
“Same thing when you're the one surviving.”
Edmund turned back to me.
“The treatment is failing.”
There it was.
The reason for today.
The reason for the children.
The reason for Samuel.
“How long?”
“Months.”
I almost laughed.
“You're dying.”
“Yes.”
“And you want more from me.”
“I need a new marrow sample.”
“No.”
“It could save thousands.”
“No.”
“Cancer. degenerative disease. Aging itself.”
“No.”
“You don't understand what you carry.”
“I understand enough.”
Edmund stepped closer.
“Your cells repair damage differently.”
“Then study the old sample.”
“It no longer works.”
“Not my problem.”
His expression changed.
Not anger.
Fear.
A ninety-six-year-old man afraid to die.
“You will reconsider.”
“No.”
“Ava.”
“No.”
He sighed.
Then looked toward Marcus.
“I hoped you would choose willingly.”
“Choose what?”
Edmund pressed another button.
A wall became transparent.
One-way glass.
A hospital room appeared beyond it.
A man lay in bed.
Gray hair.
Thin face.
Oxygen mask.
I recognized him instantly.
My father.
Daniel Hart.
Alive.
Barely.
I ran toward the glass.
“Dad!”
His eyes opened.
He saw me.
His hand lifted weakly.
I slammed my palms against the glass.
“Dad!”
Edmund stood behind me.
“He came here to kill me.”
I turned.
“What did you do?”
“Stopped him.”
“Let him go.”
“I will.”
“What do you want?”
“You already know.”
Marrow.
My father shook his head behind the glass.
No.
Even dying, he was telling me no.
Edmund continued.
“One extraction.”
“No.”
“Then Daniel dies.”
Marcus raised the gun.
Samuel stepped between them.
“Don't.”
Edmund didn't flinch.
“He has perhaps two hours without treatment.”
“What treatment?”
“Something only I can provide.”
“You're blackmailing me.”
“Yes.”
At least he didn't disguise it as protection.
I looked at my father.
Daniel pressed his hand against the glass.
I matched mine to it.
Twenty years of lies.
Three years of watching from shadows.
Thirteen years of believing him dead.
None of it mattered in that second.
He was my father.
Not genetically.
Not legally.
Because he had chosen me.
I turned toward Edmund.
“One condition.”
Marcus grabbed my arm.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“I decide.”
Edmund smiled.
“What condition?”
“You release Daniel first.”
“No.”
“Then no marrow.”
“Ava.”
“You need me more than I need you.”
His smile disappeared.
Good.
“Release him.”
Edmund studied me.
Then nodded toward Samuel.
The glass door unlocked.
I ran inside.
Daniel Hart reached for me.
I fell into his arms.
He was weak.
Fragile.
But warm.
Alive.