Third Person View
The VIP ward was dimly lit.
Soft yellow light spilled from the bedside lamp, barely cutting through the shadows that clung to the corners of the room. Outside the tall windows, the city of New York stretched endlessly, distant lights blinking like stars that felt far removed from the silence inside.
First Star Hospital stood tall and pristine—one of the top five hospitals in the city. A place where money bought privacy, and privacy bought control.
On the hospital bed lay a young girl.
She looked no older than fifteen.
Sunlight slipped through the curtains and fell gently across her face, highlighting soft features still untouched by hardship. Her breathing was steady, slow, the rise and fall of her chest calm enough to suggest deep sleep.
Beside the bed sat a woman.
Crystal Moon.
She looked exhausted.
Dark circles framed her eyes, and her posture was stiff, as if she hadn't moved for hours. One hand rested on the edge of the mattress, close to her daughter but not quite touching, as if she was afraid that doing so might wake her.
Her gaze was unfocused. Lost.
The door opened quietly.
A man stepped inside.
Henry Sinclair.
He stopped just inside the ward, his sharp eyes scanning the room before landing on the girl in the bed. His brows furrowed almost immediately.
"Crystal," he said coldly, breaking the silence, "what the hell have you been feeding my daughter?"
Crystal didn't flinch.
She turned slowly to face him, anger flashing in her eyes as she scoffed.
"You think everyone is like your wife?" she snapped. "Whispering to people to get into their pants?"
Henry's face darkened instantly.
"Don't go there," he said sharply. "Things have been over between us for five years."
Crystal stood up.
Her chair scraped softly against the floor as she faced him fully, her expression hard.
"And?" she asked. "What exactly do you want now?"
Henry straightened his suit, his voice calm but firm. "It doesn't matter anymore. She's my daughter. I'll give her the world."
He paused.
"And don't forget," he added, "you agreed to give me full custody."
Crystal laughed, but there was no humor in it.
"That's only if she agrees," she said flatly.
Silence stretched between them.
Without another word, Crystal turned and walked out of the ward.
Henry watched her go, his jaw clenched.
He sat down on the couch near the window, exhaling slowly as he loosened his tie. The room felt colder now.
A moment later, another man entered.
He was dressed in a dark suit, his expression neutral. He walked straight up to Henry and handed him a set of keys.
"Sir," the man said quietly, "I have to leave immediately."
Henry nodded. "Alright."
He stood and escorted the man out of the hospital, their footsteps fading down the hallway.
Inside the ward, the girl continued to sleep.
But something was happening.
One of her eyes slowly opened.
There was no pupil.
No reflection.
Just an empty, glowing surface hidden beneath lowered lashes.
She remained unconscious.
Inside her body, something unfamiliar began to move.
A network formed quietly, threading itself through her nervous system, attaching to every part of her body with precise intent. Thin, vein-like lines spread inward, connecting to her spine, her organs, her limbs.
They reached her brain.
There, a new vein formed—thicker than the rest—pulsing faintly with energy.
At the center of her body, something condensed.
A core.
As it stabilized, a black substance began to seep from her pores. It pooled against the sheets, staining them dark, releasing a sharp, unpleasant smell into the room.
Henry returned moments later and froze.
"What the—"
He stepped closer to the bed, his face tightening as he noticed the substance surrounding her body.
The smell hit him next.
Disgust crossed his features.
He turned abruptly and left the ward to call for a nurse.
Outside the hospital, black cars waited.
Engines idled quietly beneath the fading light of the setting sun. The sky burned orange, slowly darkening as evening approached.
A man stepped out of one of the cars.
He stood still, scanning the hospital entrance.
Another man remained inside, opening a small case. Inside was a compact pistol fitted with a silencer—an FN Model 1910, small and easy to conceal.
The man outside accepted the case.
Along with it, he was handed a photograph.
"Find her," the voice inside the car said calmly. "And kill her."
The man nodded once.
He stepped away from the car, adjusting his jacket as he headed toward the hospital entrance.
Above him, the sky darkened completely.
Inside the hospital, a girl slept.
And something inside her was fully awake.