Chapter 8 - The Safehouse WardMetro General Hospital was a stark contrast to the gleaming, corporate luxury of St. Jude’s. Located in the industrial heart of the city, its corridors smelled of old floor wax and heavy-duty disinfectant, its walls painted a dull, institutional green. But to me, it felt like the safest place on earth.
By morning, I was settled into a secure, windowless observation room on the fourth floor. Federal agents stood guard outside the reinforced door, and my medical chart was locked under an alias to prevent any corporate spies from breaching the system.
Dr. Evans walked into my room just as the morning sun was beginning to streak pale light through the high frosted glass. He looked exhausted, his tie loosened and dark circles under his eyes, but there was a grim satisfaction in his expression.
“How are the stitches?” he asked, checking the monitor by my bed.
“Stiff, but manageable,” I replied, propping myself up slightly on the pillows. “What’s happening with my father?”
Dr. Evans pulled a chair up to the bedside and sat down. “Richard is currently being held at the federal holding facility downtown. His high-priced lawyers are working overtime to get him out on bail, but Judge Holloway has recused himself under pressure from the Justice Department. They’re looking at serious federal charges—not just fraud, but violations of bioethics and unauthorized genetic modification.”
“And the W-Bio-Vector 7?” I asked, my breath catching in my throat. “What did they find in my blood work?”
Dr. Evans’s expression sobered immediately. “The independent lab analysis came back an hour ago. The polymer they introduced during your surgery is active, Claire. It’s designed to bond with your cellular receptors over a seventy-two-hour window.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine. “Active? Can they remove it?”
“Not with standard surgery,” Dr. Evans said gravely. “It’s a microscopic, programmable lipid-envelope vector. But here’s the good news: because we caught it within hours and flooded your system with a specialized clearance flush, the vector’s replication cycle has been neutralized. You’re safe from permanent genetic integration.”
I let out a long, shuddering breath, closing my eyes as the immense weight lifted from my chest. I wasn't going to be their biological guinea pig.
“What about Evelyn and Maya?” I asked.
“Evelyn is under house arrest pending a financial audit of Whittaker Biotech’s offshore accounts,” Dr. Evans explained. “As for Maya... she’s cooperating fully with the federal prosecutors. She confessed to everything—how your father manipulated her medical records to force your hand, and how he planned to use your genetic markers for the commercial rollout of the neuro-therapy treatment.”
Just as Dr. Evans finished speaking, the door clicked open.
May you like
Agent Vance stepped into the room, accompanied by a sharp-eyed woman in a tailored gray suit carrying a thick leather briefcase.
“Good morning, Ms. Whittaker,” Agent Vance said politely. “I hope you’re recovering well. Allow me to introduce Sarah Sterling—she’s the lead federal prosecutor handling the Whittaker Enterprises case.”
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