The Hawthorne mansion perched atop the cliff like a sentinel, its glass walls reflecting the restless sea below. The waves struck the rocks with a rhythm that mirrored Mario's heartbeat—steady, tense, unavoidable.
In his study, Mario sat motionless in his wheelchair, the faint glow of a desk lamp tracing the sharp angles of his face. Before him lay a folder he had never meant to open so early—a collection of secrets, lies, and proof of treachery. Secrets that could destroy Eleanor's empire, and perhaps their lives, if revealed.
A soft knock broke the silence.
—Come in —he called, voice calm but measured.
Claudia stepped inside, her movements careful, almost hesitant. She carried a single envelope, unmarked, slipped under the door like a whisper.
—This arrived for you —she said quietly.
Mario took it, tearing it open with deliberate slowness. Inside, a photograph: grainy, blurred, yet unmistakable. Mario, years ago, standing outside a private clinic in Geneva. And beside him… Eleanor, smiling with the faint cruelty that never left her eyes.
—That was before your accident, wasn't it? —Claudia asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Mario nodded, his jaw tightening.
—Before everything. Before the crash. Before the deal. —His eyes darkened.— Someone knows.
Claudia stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. —Who would do this? What do they want?
Mario opened the folder on the desk. Pages of financial records, encrypted files, medical data, and notes marked Confidential spilled before them.
—This is our lifeline —he said.— And also our curse.
—The trials? —Claudia's voice trembled.
—Not just the trials. The people behind them. Eleanor didn't fund the research to save lives; she funded it to control them. Genetic markers, behavioral patterns, loyalty tests. I was her first experiment.
—You? —Claudia's pulse quickened.
—Yes. Her prototype. She used me to perfect the algorithm, the system that predicts obedience, betrayal. And when I tried to end it… she destroyed me instead.
Claudia swallowed hard. —Then why keep it? Why not burn it all?
Mario's gaze softened, almost tender as he looked at her.
—Because this folder is the only thing keeping her from finishing what she started. It's leverage. As long as I have it, she can't erase me.
A sudden click echoed from the hallway—a deliberate metallic sound. Mario turned off the lamp in a swift motion, plunging the study into darkness.
—Was that…? —Claudia whispered.
—She's here —Mario murmured.— Or someone she sent.
They moved silently, shadow to shadow. Mario slipped the small drive from the folder into his pocket.
—If anything happens to me, —he whispered— you know what to do.
The doorknob turned slowly. A shadow appeared in the doorway. Mario's breath remained steady, the calm of a man who had faced danger his entire life.
The Keeper of the Secret had just become its prisoner.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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