Chapter 2

The newspaper clipping was old, yellowed at the edges. I kept it tucked away in a book, a relic of a past I couldn' t escape. "Financial Titan John Miller Found Dead in Apparent Suicide Amidst Fraud Allegations. Wife Institutionalized." My father, a villain in the public eye. My mother, broken beyond repair, faded away in a sterile white room a year later. I was ten. An orphan. A pariah.

Olivia, my mother' s much younger niece, had stepped in. She was barely out of her teens herself, thrust into the role of guardian. I remembered her then, a fierce, protective presence. She' d given me a small, glow-in-the-dark star sticker for my ceiling. "When the world feels too dark, Ethan, look for your star. It' ll always be there." It was a silly, childish thing, but it had been my anchor.

Tonight, I looked up at my ceiling. The star was still there, but its glow seemed faint, almost invisible against the oppressive darkness of my room. Like Olivia' s affection, dimmed, obscured by Marcus, by her new life.

My phone buzzed. A text from Elysian Fields. "Mr. Miller, your pre-procedure health evaluation is scheduled for tomorrow, 9 AM. Please confirm."

"I' ll be there," I typed back, a strange sense of calm washing over me. What did it matter anymore? The evaluation was a formality. My body was already failing.

The next day was a blur of tests. Blood draws, scans, probing questions from doctors who looked at me with a mixture of pity and clinical detachment. They confirmed what I already knew. Aggressive. Terminal. Limited time.

Late that afternoon, a courier delivered a sleek, silver briefcase. Inside, brochures and a data chip. "Elysian Fields: Customizing Your Journey to the Future." Options for chamber design, music, even virtual environments to be loaded "upon successful revival." It was morbidly fascinating.

I returned to the apartment, a sliver of foolish hope flickering. Maybe Olivia would be home early. Maybe she' d look at me, really look at me, and see the fear, the pain.

Instead, I found Marcus Thorne in the living room, scrolling through his phone, his feet propped up on the coffee table. My coffee table. He looked up, a smug smile playing on his lips.

"Ethan. Welcome home," he said, his tone dripping with false warmth. He was acting like he owned the place. Because, in a way, he now did.

Olivia walked in from the kitchen, a glass of wine in her hand. "Oh, Ethan, you' re back. Marcus was just telling me about his plans for the company retreat." She smiled at Marcus, a soft, intimate smile that twisted something inside me. "He' s taking over, you know. Officially COO now. He' ll be making a lot of the big decisions around here too."

Marcus gave me a condescending pat on the shoulder as he walked past to join Olivia. "Don't worry, kid. I'll make sure your allowance is still on time." His touch made my skin crawl. As he moved, his arm brushed mine, and the silver briefcase I was holding slipped from my grasp. It clattered to the floor, spilling its contents. Brochures for Elysian Fields, "Your Eternal Rest, Reimagined," scattered across the expensive rug.

Olivia' s eyes narrowed. She bent down, picked up a brochure, her face hardening as she read the title. "Elysian Fields Cryonics Institute? What is this, Ethan?" Her voice was sharp, accusatory.

My mind raced. "It' s... it' s for an architectural project," I stammered, the lie feeling clumsy and obvious. "A futuristic design concept. For... for sustainable living spaces. Cryo-chambers are part of it."

Olivia stared at me, her expression a mixture of suspicion and disgust. "Cryo-chambers? For a university project? That' s incredibly morbid, Ethan. Even for you."