I found his address buried in one of the stolen files — a man who once wore a white coat and a smug grin, now living in quiet luxury far from the basement where he destroyed girls like me.
Dr. Lanre Ayodeji.
The first name on the list.
Not the worst. But the first.
The one who whispered, "She's not ready yet," as if I were a broken machine instead of a child strapped to steel.
His house was a fortress pretending to be a home — iron gates, motion lights, and enough cameras to rival a prison. But I had learned how to move without being seen. How to become a shadow no lens could capture.
Remi didn't come with me. I didn't ask him to.
This was something I had to do alone.
The air around the compound was thick with silence — not the peaceful kind, but the kind that waits before something terrible happens.
I slipped through a side entrance, timing my movement with the lazy turn of the security light.
Inside, the décor was everything I expected: cold marble, expensive art, lifeless order. It reeked of someone trying too hard to convince himself he wasn't a monster.
I found him in the study, sipping something golden from a glass, his back to the door.
He didn't hear me come in.
"Do you know who I am?" I said, voice flat.
He turned, slow and confused. Then his face changed.
Recognition.
Fear.
"Jesus Christ."
I smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
"Too late for Him."
He stammered something. An apology? A justification? A prayer?
I didn't care.
"You made me a weapon," I said. "You broke children and called it research. You erased names, lives, voices."
I stepped closer. He backed against the bookshelf like the walls might save him.
"They told me I was dangerous," I said, "but you—you were the real disease."
I didn't raise my hand.
I didn't need to.
The confession was the punishment.
"I want you to live," I whispered. "I want you to wake up every day knowing the girl you silenced found her voice. And she's coming for the rest of you."
I dropped the file on his desk — the one with his signature on my blueprints.
"Sleep tight, Doctor."
I walked out before he could speak.
One name down.
Too many to go.
But for the first time, I didn't feel like a weapon.
I felt like justice.
With blood in her mouth.
And a list in her pocket.