Chapter 3 - The Velvet Seam
The silence in the private study was suffocating. Vincent walked slowly toward his personal wall safe hidden behind an oil painting of a tempestuous sea. He swung the painting aside, punched his eight-digit code into the keypad, and pulled open the heavy steel door. His private flash drive sat undisturbed in its velvet case.
He turned back to the desk where the silver pocket watch lay connected to the terminal.
"Marcus," Vincent said softly. "Clear the room. Take Luca and Nico to the guest suites on the upper floor. Put four guards at their door. Leave Elena here."
"What about the girl, Boss?" Marcus asked, nodding toward the six-year-old sitting quietly on the couch.
"She stays with me," Vincent replied.
Luca stood up from the sofa, wrapping his blanket tighter around his shoulders. "Uncle Vincent... don't let them hurt Lily. She saved us."
Vincent looked at his young nephew, offering a subtle, reassuring nod. "Nobody is going to hurt her, Luca. I give you my word."
Once Marcus had escorted the boys out of the room, Vincent walked over to the sofa and sat down beside the little girl. Lily looked at him through her messy brown hair, her fair rosy cheeks warm from the fire burning in the hearth. She squeezed her stuffed rabbit closer.
"Your name is Lily?" Vincent asked gently, his deep voice softening completely.
The girl nodded once.
"Who gave you the rabbit, Lily?"
"Michael," she whispered. "He said Mr. Rabbit keeps the bad men away when the needles come."
Vincent felt a knot tighten in his chest. He reached out his hand, gently touching the stuffed toy. As his fingers brushed against the plush fabric of the rabbit's torso, his sharp eye caught a subtle, stiff seam running along the spine of the toy—a thick, hand-stitched thread that didn't match the rest of the factory embroidery.
Vincent pulled a small penknife from his vest pocket. With steady, careful hands, he sliced through the coarse thread.
Inside the cotton filling sat a small, cylindrical glass vial filled with a clear, iridescent liquid, alongside a folded piece of heavy parchment.
Vincent pulled the vial out, holding it up to the lamplight. The glass was stamped with a medical registry code and a bold red label: PROJECT HYDRA - AUTOLOGOUS STEM CELL HARVEST 09.
Vincent unfolded the parchment. Written in dark black ink was a handwritten note in his brother Michael's unmistakable, slanted handwriting:
Vincent,
If you are reading this, Elena has already betrayed the family. The girl is my biological daughter. Her bone marrow contains the only viable antibody sequence capable of neutralizing the synthetic nerve toxin the estate board has been secretly feeding you for the past three years. Do not trust the food in this house. Do not trust Elena. The cure is in her blood.
Vincent stared at the paper, his breathing stopping completely. His blood ran cold as he realized the subtle muscle tremors and fatigue he had experienced over the last year weren't from stress—they were from poison.
He turned his head slowly toward Elena, who sat frozen in her armchair, her eyes wide with sheer terror as she saw the note in his hand.
May you like
"Vincent... I can explain..." Elena stammered, her voice failing her.
Before Vincent could speak, the heavy glass window behind his desk shattered into a thousand pieces as a high-velocity sniper round tore through the room, embedding itself deep into the dark wood paneling three inches from Vincent's head.
