Chapter 10 - The Failure
Richard Sinclair’s last words made no sense.
If my father believed Providence was a failure, why was he hunting my child?
Agent Cole locked down the building. No sign of Thomas. No sign of how he entered.
Which meant someone had helped him.
Again.
Victoria sat wrapped in a gray blanket, staring at blood on her hands.
“He killed my father.”
Ethan crouched in front of her. “I’m sorry.”
She looked at him. “He hated you.”
“I know.”
“He still didn’t deserve that.”
“No.”
I sat beside her. “Did he say anything?”
Victoria nodded slowly. “Before Thomas stabbed him, they were arguing.”
“About?”
“Me.”
Her voice cracked.
“My father said, ‘You promised she would never be used.’”
I looked at Ethan.
Victoria continued. “Thomas said, ‘She already was.’”
She began shaking.
I took her hand.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Agent Cole approached. “We found something in Richard’s coat.”
She held up a keycard.
Claire, under guard in the adjoining room, recognized it immediately.
“Providence archive.”
“Where?” Cole asked.
“Beneath Sinclair Biotech’s research center in New Jersey.”
“That facility was searched last year.”
“Not the lower level.”
Ethan said, “How do we get in?”
Cole gave him a look. “You don’t.”
He smiled. “We’ll see.”
I stood. “I’m going.”
“No,” three people said at once.
I stared at them. “Charming.”
Cole folded her arms. “You’re eight months pregnant.”
“Thank you for noticing.”
“You were targeted repeatedly in forty-eight hours.”
“Which means leaving me uninformed has worked beautifully.”
Ethan said, “She has a point.”
“I don’t need your support.”
“You have it anyway.”
Claire stepped closer. “There may be medical records about the baby.”
That ended the argument.
Three hours later, federal agents escorted us into Sinclair Biotech. The building looked ordinary. Glass. steel. landscaped parking lots.
The underground level did not.
Concrete corridors led to a biometric door.
Richard’s keycard opened the first lock.
Victoria’s fingerprint opened the second.
The third required blood.
Claire stared at the scanner. “Providence line access.”
“What does that mean?”
“Only registered subjects can open it.”
Ethan stepped forward.
He pressed his thumb to the glass.
A needle pricked him.
The light turned green.
ACCESS GRANTED: R-01.
He stared. “R-01.”
Claire swallowed. “Romano One.”
He laughed bitterly. “Of course.”
The door opened.
Inside were rows of refrigerated storage units and metal cabinets.
No monsters.
No mad scientists.
Just records.
That was somehow worse.
Agent Cole photographed everything.
I walked beside Ethan.
He opened a drawer.
File folders labeled with initials.
He found his.
E.R.
Inside were childhood medical records, school reports, psychological assessments.
“They watched me.”
Claire nodded. “For years.”
He turned a page.
AGE 7: HIGH AGGRESSION RESPONSE.
AGE 9: UNUSUAL RISK TOLERANCE.
AGE 12: STRATEGIC DOMINANCE.
I stared. “They turned your childhood into data.”
His mouth tightened. “They weren’t wrong.”
“That doesn’t make it acceptable.”
He looked at me. “Thank you.”
We found my file next.
I didn’t want to open it.
Ethan did.
AGE 6: EMPATHIC RESPONSE ABOVE TARGET.
AGE 11: VERBAL INTELLIGENCE EXCEPTIONAL.
AGE 16: PAIRING COMPATIBILITY WITH R-01 CONFIRMED.
My skin crawled.
“Pairing.”
Claire looked ashamed. “They intended you to meet.”
“At sixteen?”
“No. adulthood.”
“Still disgusting.”
“Yes.”
Victoria called from across the room. “You need to see this.”
We joined her beside a computer terminal.
Agent Cole inserted an evidence drive.
A video file appeared.
Dated twenty-eight years earlier.
Thomas Bennett sat in a laboratory.
Younger. Dark-haired. Alive in the version I remembered from childhood.
He looked directly into the camera.
“Providence Phase One is a failure.”
I stopped breathing.
On screen, Thomas continued.
“We selected for strength, intelligence, resilience. We underestimated social development.”
A second man spoke off camera.
“What failed?”
“The subjects.”
Ethan’s hand tightened.
Thomas said, “They are not controllable.”
My heart pounded.
“The Romano infant demonstrates extreme autonomy indicators. The Bennett female shows similar resistance through empathic attachment.”
A woman asked, “Recommendation?”
“Terminate the project.”
The camera shifted.
Richard Sinclair appeared.
“No. We continue.”
Thomas shook his head. “You don’t understand. If these children mature and reproduce, their offspring may combine traits we cannot predict.”
Richard smiled. “That was the point.”
“No. Predictability was the point.”
The video ended.
Silence.
I looked at Claire. “So my father wanted Providence stopped?”
“At first.”
“What changed?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Cole opened another file.
A later video.
Thomas, ten years older.
“Phase Two proposal. We will observe first-generation offspring under natural environmental pressure.”
Ethan’s voice went cold. “He changed his mind.”
Claire whispered, “Or someone changed it for him.”
The video continued.
Thomas looked exhausted.
“If R-01 and B-01 ever produce a child, the infant must not enter Sinclair control.”
I stared. “He was trying to protect the baby?”
Ethan shook his head. “Keep watching.”
Thomas continued.
“If necessary, remove the child permanently.”
The screen went black.
My entire body went cold.
“Remove.”
Nobody spoke.
Then an alarm sounded.
Cole checked her radio. “Security breach.”
The laboratory lights shut off.
Emergency red lights came on.
I heard Ethan curse.
Then a voice came through the speakers.
Thomas.
“You finally found the archive.”
I looked up. “Dad.”
“I’m sorry you had to learn this way.”
Ethan shouted, “Come down here.”
Thomas laughed. “No.”
Steel doors slammed shut behind us.
Claire ran toward the control panel. “Locked.”
Thomas continued.
“Richard believed your child was Providence’s future.”
My hands covered my stomach.
“I believe he is its ending.”
Gas hissed through ceiling vents.
Everyone looked up.
Ethan grabbed me. “Hold your breath!”
Claire shouted, “Anesthetic!”
My vision blurred almost instantly.
The last thing I saw was Ethan trying to reach the door.
The last thing I heard was my father’s voice.
“When you wake up, Isabella, your baby will be safe.”
Before the gas fully reached us, Ethan pulled his jacket over my face. It was useless against the chemical, but the gesture lodged in my mind. He kept one arm around my shoulders while Cole shouted instructions and Daniel rammed a metal cart into the sealed door.
“Stay with me,” Ethan said.
“I’m trying.”
“Talk.”
“About what?”
“Anything.”
I could barely focus. “You still owe me a crib.”
His laugh sounded distant. “The strongest one in New York.”
“No gold.”
“No gold.”
“No armed guards inside the nursery.”
He hesitated.
“Ethan.”
“Fine. Outside the nursery.”
May you like
Even as darkness closed over me, I almost smiled. The final image I carried was not the laboratory or Thomas on the screen. It was Ethan’s hand locked around mine, refusing to let go even when both of us were losing consciousness.
Later, I would wonder whether that was love or instinct. At the time, it was simply the last thing I trusted.
