Back at Leclair’s ho, chaos reigned in comfortable harmony.
Seraphina was braiding Aurelius’s hair with glittery bands while Eira lectured them on Roman history from a book that was way too advanced for her age.
"Uncle Augustin says I should be the queen of a ruined kingdom," Eira declared proudly.
"That tracks," Aurelius muttered as his scalp was pulled.
Leclair sipped his coffee with a sigh. Augustin yawned beside him, arms full of plushies that Eira had designated for a ’royal tribunal.’
"I love our nieces and nephew," Augustin mumbled, "but I swear they’re each descended from a different brand of chaos."
Leclair chuckled. "They’re fine."
"They’re planning a rebellion."
"They do that every Tuesday."
"I miss when they were babies and couldn’t talk."
"You say that, but you scread when Seraphina pooped on your new vest."
"That was designer!"
.
.
Adrian was changed, sitting upright, with a wool cardigan draped over his shoulders. Ethan was helping him tie his shoelaces.
"We can go ho after the final round of results co back," Ethan said. "The doctor wants you to co in every third day this week for follow-ups."
Adrian nodded. "That’s fine."
Ethan stood and looked toward the nurse’s desk through the window, frowning slightly.
"You keep doing that," Adrian said.
"Doing what?"
"Looking like soone handed you a box with half the pieces missing."
Ethan turned back to him, eyes sharp. "Because that’s what it feels like."
Adrian tilted his head.
"There was sothing Cain once said," Ethan murmured. "About the Atops. That back in Jesper’s ti, many of them were studied. Tracked."
Adrian’s smile faded slowly.
"What if soone’s still doing it?"
Adrian stared at him. "You think soone’s been monitoring ?"
"I don’t know. But the gene enhancents that made Atops viable for male pregnancy — that wasn’t natural. That was a dical breakthrough lost in the fire at the old institute. Jesper was one of the only survivors. He never talked about it."
"Because he forgot most of it," Adrian said quietly. "Even Dad said Jesper never fully rembered his ti in that lab."
"And you were born not long after that fire. You and Jaya are the youngest. What if sothing got passed down?"
Adrian’s eyes widened slightly.
"I want full scans," Ethan muttered. "Not just from this hospital. I want our own lab. Genetic tracing. Residual enhancent markers. I want Zara to look at the neural inflammation too. And we’ll compare it to Jesper’s old scans."
Adrian blinked. "You... still have those?"
"Mathew kept backup files on everyone."
Adrian sighed. "So you do think it’s sothing inherited."
"I think... we need to be sure."
Adrian didn’t respond right away. Then he nodded. "Okay. Let’s check. Just don’t let the kids find out."
.
The house was warm and filled with the sll of soup — Leclair had sent over dinner with Seraphina and Aurelius, who imdiately ran to Adrian with hugs and worry.
"Papa made you wear socks so your head doesn’t hurt anymore," Seraphina announced.
"I don’t think that’s how biology works," Aurelius muttered.
Eira just looked up at Adrian and said, "If you die I’m never talking to Papa again."
Adrian kneeled and hugged her tightly. "I’m not going anywhere."
Ethan stood at the door, watching them with quiet intensity. His phone buzzed — it was Zara.
"I’ll check the old neural files. But if you’re right, Ethan, it won’t just be Adrian in danger. Soone else is going to co looking for what Jesper left behind."
.
Later that night, while Adrian slept, Ethan sat in his office, files spread across his desk.
He clicked open one from Jesper’s old encrypted archives. Sothing in the file structure was off — a code not used in modern dical notes.
He entered a second-layer password from an old Cain docunt and cracked the file.
Inside was a genetic code string.
And three words stamped at the top in red:
PROJECT: PRECURSOR HOST
Ethan’s blood ran cold.
The tistamp was dated thirty-five years ago. The initials beside the lab notes?
J.S. — Jesper Sebanil.
And beneath it, a na Ethan had never seen before.
"Subject Alpha: Embryonic stability achieved — see Note 9 for carrier viability. Estimated activation: 32 years."
Adrian was 32.
Ethan stood slowly, every nerve ending in his body tightening.
A whisper rose in the back of his mind.
He hadn’t missed a clue.
The clue had been sleeping beside him all along.
And it had just started to wake up.
.
.
The wind blew cold along the cliffside path, a steady whistle across the craggy rocks and white foam. Ethan barely felt it. He walked like a man in a trance, long strides eaten by the sand, his breath shallow as the salty air clawed at his throat.
The ocean stretched endlessly before him — infinite and indifferent, crashing waves mimicking the turbulence inside his chest.
He ca here alone. Without a driver, without a phone. Just the sea, the sky, and the noise in his head.
When the familiar cove ca into view — a small, curved slice of land hidden behind wind-sculpted cliffs — he didn’t hesitate. He climbed down, boots crunching over pebbles, and stopped at the very edge of the water.
The tide reached for his toes, cold as it washed over the sand, then retreated, leaving nothing but a glistening sheen.
Like all things. Coming and going.
He stood there for a long ti.
And then he broke.
Ethan dropped to his knees in the sand, one hand digging into it as if anchoring himself, and let out a guttural, wordless cry that startled the gulls into flight.
It tore from him — sharp, unfiltered, animal. The kind of pain that doesn’t know how to be quiet.
He couldn’t rember the last ti he let himself unravel.
Maybe it was years ago. Maybe never.
Not when he was raised to be the "heir." Not when he was given the company, the power, the reputation. Not even when he woke from his coma and found he had a husband and children he didn’t know.
But now?
Now that Adrian was sick — not dying, but sick, and the answers didn’t co fast enough...
Now that every clue pointed not only toward danger but toward the possibility that Adrian had been used — created, perhaps, shaped by sothing unknown...
Now, Ethan could no longer hold it in.
He slamd a fist into the sand. "Why—"
His voice cracked and faded.
"Why can’t I protect him from this?" he whispered, breathless.
The waves crashed, uncaring.
"I was supposed to be the strong one."
His shoulders shook. He sat there, head bowed, wind tugging at his dark hair.
"I’ve fought wars. I’ve taken bullets. I’ve survived assassins. But this..."
The idea of Adrian — his Adrian — suffering from sothing written into his very blood...
It broke sothing in him.
"He smiled through the headaches. Said he was fine. He always says he’s fine. Even when he’s in pain."
Ethan clenched his jaw, rembering the quiet winces Adrian thought he didn’t see. The way his hands trembled sotis when lifting Seraphina’s backpack. How he’d stumble in the middle of explaining formulas, blink, and brush it off.
He knew sothing was wrong. He’d seen it.
But he let himself believe Adrian.
Because believing ant safety.
Believing ant control.
But control was a lie.
Ethan sat back, the wet sand soaking through his pants. His eyes stared toward the horizon.
"I don’t know how to do this without you," he said quietly, as if Adrian were already gone.
He tilted his head back, looking up at the grey, moving sky.
"What good is power if I can’t even save the one person who made human?"
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"You gave a ho. A family. You forgave the things I did. You gave children."
The image of Adrian holding Seraphina and Aurelius — glowing, full of life — flashed across his mind.
Then the sight of him last night, pale and sweating in the hospital bed.
"I can’t lose you," Ethan said. "I don’t care what it takes. I’ll burn every lab. Tear through every archive. Go to war with every shadow in this world. But I won’t— I won’t let you vanish from ."
The wind scread in his ears.
Ethan gritted his teeth and stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
No one ever saw this side of him.
The powerful, untouchable Ethan Levistis.
He was supposed to be the mountain others leaned on.
But for Adrian, he would beco a storm.
He took one final look at the sea — endless, cold — and made a vow.
"No more waiting. No more reacting. I’m going to find the truth. And I’ll protect him. Even from his past."
He turned on his heel and walked back up the path.
No more hesitation.
If there was a secret in Jesper’s files, he would dig it out.
If Adrian’s body was the key to sothing — to danger, to forgotten experints — he would find the lock and break it.
Because this wasn’t just about love anymore.
It was about survival.
And Ethan would rather tear down the world than live in it without Adrian.
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