Chapter 5 - Echoes of a Dublin Clinic
Owen’s hand hovered near his jacket pocket for a fraction of a second too long before he forced a tight, rigid smile.
"Boss, you know the security clearance on that safe requires dual biometric authorization," Owen said, his tone carefully measured. "My access code expired when the corporate restructuring hit last quarter. You’ll have to use the master terminal."
Jonathan didn't blink. "I updated the master overrides yesterday, Owen. You had full admin access until midnight."
Owen’s face hardened. The deferential, loyal security director vanished, replaced by something cold and calculating. He slowly withdrew his hand from his pocket—not empty, but holding a heavy, black-steel suppressor pistol.
"I tried to make it clean, Jonathan," Owen said smoothly, raising the weapon and aiming it squarely at Jonathan’s chest. "Rebecca was difficult. She started digging through the subsidiary ledgers in Dublin. She thought she could shut down the Genesis Project with a stroke of a pen. She didn't understand that Mercer Dominion is just a storefront for something much larger."
Dr. Vance shrieked, diving behind the leather sofa and covering his head with his hands.
Jonathan didn't flinch. He stood tall behind his mahogany desk, his hands resting flat on the wood, his eyes burning with controlled fury.
"You worked for me for eleven years, Owen," Jonathan said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "I trusted you with my home, my safety, my family."
"Loyalty is a commodity, Jonathan. And billionaires are notoriously easy to manage when you control their perimeter," Owen sneered. He flicked his eyes toward Maya, who stood frozen near the fireplace, clutching Eli tightly against her chest. "And the nurse... well, her arrival on that flight was a statistical anomaly. We planned to intercept the baby at Dulles, quietly replace him with a sedated dummy, and move him off-grid before you reached the estate. But she ruined it."
Maya’s heart hammered against her ribs like a caged bird. She looked around the room, desperately searching for an exit, a heavy object, anything to protect the child in her arms.
"You killed Rebecca," Jonathan stated, not as a question, but as an indictment.
"We gave her a choice," Owen replied coldly. "She chose poorly. Just like you're about to."
Owen’s finger tightened on the trigger.
In that fraction of a second, Maya didn't think. She dropped to the floor, pulling Eli down behind the heavy oak base of the wingback chair, shielding the infant with her own body.
Bang.
The suppressed gunshot sounded like a heavy book slamming onto a hardwood floor. A cloud of splintered wood erupted from the edge of the mahogany desk where Jonathan had been standing.
But Jonathan hadn't waited for the bullet.
With blinding speed, he lunged sideways, grabbing a heavy brass fireplace poker from its stand and hurling it across the room with lethal accuracy. The iron poker struck Owen squarely across the wrist, sending the suppressor pistol flying out of his hand and clattering across the floor.
Owen cursed, clutching his bruised wrist, but before he could recover, Jonathan was on him.
The two men collided with the force of a freight train, crashing into a mahogany bookcase. Heavy leather-bound volumes rained down around them as fists flew in brutal, silent efficiency. Jonathan, fueled by months of grief, betrayal, and raw paternal fury, drove his fist into Owen’s jaw with a sickening crunch.
Owen crumpled to the floor, unconscious, blood pooling beside his cheek.
Heavy silence rushed back into the room, broken only by the sound of ragged breathing and Eli’s soft, even slumber against Maya's shoulder.
Dr. Vance trembled behind the sofa, too terrified to move.
Jonathan stood over Owen’s unconscious body, his chest heaving, his knuckles bruised and bleeding. Slowly, he raised his head and looked across the room toward Maya and the baby.
"Are you alright?" Jonathan asked, his voice cracking slightly.
Maya nodded, slowly rising to her feet while cradling Eli. "We’re... we’re okay."
Jonathan walked over, kneeling beside them. He reached out with a trembling hand, his fingers gently brushing Eli’s dark hair.
"We need proof," Jonathan said, his eyes fierce. "Real proof. Not just what Vance claims."
Maya looked down at the baby, then back toward the safe behind the portrait of Rebecca.
"The dual biometric authorization," Maya said. "Rebecca’s journal. It has to be in there."
Jonathan stood up, walked to the portrait of his late wife, and swung it open to reveal the heavy steel safe dial. He placed his palm against the scanner, entered a secondary override code, and punched in a six-digit numerical sequence—his wedding anniversary.
May you like
The heavy steel door hissed open.
Inside, resting on a velvet tray, was a leather-bound journal and a sealed Manila envelope labeled in bold red ink: DNA & CLINICAL AUDIT - GABRIEL / ELI.
