By the time the sky began to pale, I still hadn't slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, flashes returned—white light, a hum that vibrated through my bones, my father's voice fading behind a locked door.
Each time I opened them again, I half-expected to see that same sterile room instead of the villa's soft dawn.
Marco was still in the study. The lamp threw a tired halo around him, his hair mussed, his shirt wrinkled, eyes bloodshot but alert. He'd been combing through his father's encrypted drive all night.
I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him. The determination in him scared me almost as much as it steadied me. He wouldn't stop until he found every answer—no matter what it cost.
"Any luck?" I asked.
He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Some. Not enough."
A folder lay open beside him. Lines of numbers, coordinates, half-erased names. "Your father's initials appear next to something labeled Protocol S. The same file mentions Helius again. And then—nothing. It's like the rest was wiped."
"Protocol S?" I echoed.
"Maybe 'Subject.' Or 'Shield.' I don't know."
He hesitated, eyes lifting to mine. "I think he worked with my father to shut it down."
I stepped closer, staring at the blurred words. "And they failed."
He didn't answer. He didn't need to.
I exhaled slowly, forcing calm into my voice. "If Helius was real, there has to be someone else who knows about it. Someone who survived."
As if the universe had been listening, Marco's laptop chimed. A soft ping, abrupt and alien in the quiet. The screen blinked once, then a message appeared—no sender, no signature. Just five words:
Stop digging or lose her.
The breath left my body. "Marco—"
He was already moving, hands flying across the keyboard. "It came through a secure channel—someone hacked the system."
"Can you trace it?"
He shook his head. "They masked the IP. Whoever sent this knows exactly what they're doing."
A second message appeared before he could finish:
He's alive. You're not ready.
For a moment, all I could hear was the pounding in my ears. My pulse, the sea, my heartbeat—all colliding into one sharp, terrified rhythm.
"He?" I whispered. "My father?"
Marco stared at the words like he could will them to explain themselves. "It has to be."
I reached for the screen as if touching it could make it real. Alive. After all these years. After every sleepless night hating him for abandoning me. I wanted to believe it, but hope hurt worse than grief ever had.
The message disappeared.
Just—gone. Like it had never existed.
Marco cursed under his breath, trying to recover it. I sank into the chair opposite him, my hands shaking.
"If someone's watching us," I said slowly, "that means they knew we'd find the files. That means this isn't over."
"It also means they need you alive," he said grimly. "Whoever sent that—threat or not—they're keeping you in play."
I swallowed hard. "Why would they warn us, then?"
"Because maybe they don't want you to know the whole truth yet."
He leaned back, eyes shadowed. "Or maybe they want to see what you'll do next."
Outside, dawn was climbing out of the ocean, streaking the sky in silver and rose. The villa looked different in that light—no longer a sanctuary, but a glass cage. Every window felt like an open eye.
I stood, wrapping my arms around myself. "If he's alive, he could be in danger. Or he could be part of this."
Marco came to stand beside me. "Either way, we need to find him before they do."
He said it with such certainty that I wanted to believe him. But the part of me that had learned how the world works—the part carved out by fear—knew nothing was that simple.
"What if he doesn't want to be found?" I asked quietly.
Marco's jaw tightened. "Then we'll make him want to."
His protectiveness used to make me feel safe. Now it just made the air around us heavier. Because this wasn't just about saving me anymore. It was about uncovering something that had lived in the dark for decades, something that tied our fathers—and us—together in ways we still couldn't name.
I walked toward the balcony doors again, pushing them open. The air smelled like wet earth and salt. The world was waking up, innocent and unaware of the storm brewing inside two people who had already survived too much.
Behind me, Marco's phone rang. Not a call—an alert.
He frowned. "It's Luca."
I turned quickly. "Put him on."
Luca's voice came through, low and urgent. "Marco, you need to listen carefully. I just intercepted chatter from one of the old Rossi communication channels."
Marco stiffened. "Those were shut down years ago."
"Apparently not all of them. Someone's reactivating them. The code name Helius showed up twice—in connection with a name I think you'll recognize."
"Whose name?" Marco asked.
Luca paused, as if unsure he should say it.
"Isabella's father. David Bayor."
The world stopped.
I gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. "He's alive."
Luca hesitated. "Maybe. Or maybe someone's using his identity to draw you out. Either way, you're being watched. Both of you."
The line crackled, then went dead.
I looked at Marco. He looked back at me, the same realization dawning in both our eyes—this was bigger than either of us had imagined.
"We have to leave," he said. "Tonight."
"Leave?" I repeated, the word catching in my throat.
"If they know where we are, the villa's compromised. We need to move before they make the next move."
I stared at the photo still lying on the desk—the one of our fathers standing side by side, smiling like they hadn't just set a generation of secrets in motion.
For years, I'd wondered who I was when everything else was stripped away—without the anger, the survival, the walls. Now I wasn't sure I wanted to know. Because every answer we uncovered seemed to erase a little more of the girl I thought I was.
"Where will we go?" I asked.
"Somewhere off-grid," Marco said. "Luca will help arrange it. But first, I want you to rest."
Rest.
The word sounded foreign now.
I brushed my fingers over the photo once more before tucking it into my notebook. "If my father's alive," I whispered, "then I need to look him in the eye and ask why he let me believe he was dead."
Marco stepped closer, his voice gentle but firm. "You will. I promise."
Outside, the last of the rainclouds drifted out to sea.
Inside, the storm was just beginning.