Chapter 12 - The Cost of a Miracle
Elias woke in a hospital.
He hated hospitals.
Now he had one more reason.
Elena sat beside him.
"You scared everybody."
"Russell?"
"Gone."
"Grace?"
"Safe."
"Children?"
"Safe."
He exhaled.
Then tried to move his right foot.
It moved.
His left moved too.
He stared.
Elena put a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Turn this into hope before we understand it."
He looked at her.
"Can I walk?"
"Maybe."
"Will it kill me?"
"Maybe."
He laughed weakly.
"Excellent bedside manner."
Her eyes filled.
"I spent years trying to make you stop treating medicine like an investment deck."
"And I spent years not listening."
"Yes."
He accepted it.
A cardiologist entered.
Elias had suffered an arrhythmia.
Not catastrophic.
But real.
The regenerative signal was affecting more than his spine.
Treatment would focus on controlling the response.
No more exposure to Grace.
Elias looked through the glass where Mateo held the baby.
"Good."
Elena blinked.
"You mean that?"
"She's not a treatment."
His daughter looked at him for a long time.
Then nodded.
"Good."
Then an FBI agent entered.
"We have a problem."
Russell had transferred two hundred million dollars from a covert research fund.
Destination unknown.
"And the archive?" Elena asked.
"We believe he intends to sell it."
"To who?"
The agent placed a photograph on the table.
A woman stepping from a private plane.
Dr. Celeste Rowan.
Founder of Rowan Longevity.
Elena went cold.
"She financed Haven."
Elias stared.
"You know her?"
"She was my mentor."
The agent nodded.
"She has diplomatic relationships, private clinics on three continents, and a yacht currently outside U.S. waters."
Elias looked at Elena.
"What is in the master archive?"
She answered quietly.
"Grace's genome."
Mateo heard from the doorway.
"What does that mean?"
Elena closed her eyes.
"It means if Celeste gets it, she may not need Grace alive."
Silence.
Then Grace began crying.
Mateo held her closer.
Elias looked at the little girl who had made his foot move.
May you like
For the first time, the miracle felt like a target painted on her back.
And somewhere offshore, someone was preparing to copy her.
