Chapter 11 - Seven MinutesDylan had survived the attack.
But he had never survived the guilt.
The missing footage was stored on a tiny memory card hidden inside his apartment.
Ortiz played it.
The screen showed my office.
10:43 p.m.
My father entered.
Dylan followed.
They argued.
I watched myself appear in the doorway.
I was holding a folder.
My father said something.
I couldn't hear it.
Then I watched myself hand the folder to Dylan.
I froze.
“What am I giving him?”
Ortiz paused the video.
“Zoom.”
She did.
A drive.
Black.
Small.
I whispered:
“Blackline.”
Dylan looked at the screen.
Then something happened.
I watched myself turn toward the camera.
And speak.
The footage had no sound.
But my lips were clear.
Rachel leaned forward.
“What did you say?”
I knew.
I watched myself spell the words with my mouth.
If they come for me, release it.
Then my father stepped toward me.
He grabbed my arm.
Dylan intervened.
The scene became chaotic.
I saw Dylan push Victor away.
Victor shouted.
Then the attack happened.
But there was another detail.
After Dylan hit me, he dropped the monitor.
He stood frozen.
Victor walked over.
Instead of calling for help, he picked up my phone.
Then he made a call.
The call was not to emergency services.
It was to someone else.
Ortiz looked at me.
“We traced the number.”
“Who?”
She showed me the records.
Elias Grant.
Victor called Elias first.
Then, six minutes later, emergency services.
I stared.
“He was coordinating the cover-up.”
“Yes.”
But there was more.
The footage showed Victor kneeling beside me.
He reached into my jacket.
He removed something.
A memory card.
The same type Dylan later recovered.
Victor thought he had destroyed the evidence.
He hadn't.
I looked at Dylan.
“You saved it.”
He nodded.
“I didn't know what it was at the time.”
“Why didn't you give it to me?”
“I was scared.”
I believed him.
For the first time.
Then Ortiz received another call.
She answered.
Her face changed.
“What?”
She listened.
Then looked at us.
“They found Elias.”
“Where?”
She shook her head.
“Not yet.”
“Then what?”
She held up the phone.
“He just released a statement.”
We read it.
Elias claimed Victor had acted alone.
He denied involvement in Blackline.
He accused me of creating the fraud system.
And he announced that he would appear before the press within the hour.
Rachel whispered:
“He's going to destroy the narrative.”
I looked at the screen.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
“He's going to do something worse.”
“What?”
“He's going to force me into the open.”
I understood now.
Elias didn't need the evidence.
He needed public confusion.
He needed me discredited.
And he knew exactly how to do it.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Elias.
“You're finally remembering.”
“What do you want?”
“To finish what your mother started.”
My hands clenched.
“What did my mother start?”
“She created you.”
I froze.
“She believed intelligence could be inherited.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your mother didn't simply give birth to you.”
His voice lowered.
“She designed you.”
The line went dead.
I looked at Rachel.
Dylan.
Ortiz.
Nobody spoke.
Then a new message arrived.
A photograph.
My mother standing in a laboratory.
Beside a machine.
May you like
And behind her, on a whiteboard, were the words:
PROJECT DANIEL
