Chapter 4

Mark himself brought the Phoenix Foundation' s "final protocol solution" to the private care facility.

It wasn't a solution. It was a lethal dose, disguised as palliative care.

The Foundation had rules. If the primary protocol failed, and if "containment" of their experimental subject was necessary to protect their secrecy, this was the outcome.

He held the syringe, his hand surprisingly steady.

"It' s for the best, Sarah," he said, his voice low. "To end your suffering."

He injected the clear liquid into her IV line.

A searing, unbearable agony ripped through every nerve in her body.

She gasped, her body arching off the bed. This was not a gentle end. This was torment.

She prayed for it to be quick. Let this be the end.

But the synthesized voice from the tablet on her bedside table spoke, cold and precise.

"Protocol failure containment initiated. Life functions will cease at the predetermined time. Zero days, one hour remaining."

She had to endure this for another hour.

The Foundation denied her even the mercy of a quick escape.

She must have lost consciousness.

When she awoke, the worst of the burning agony had subsided to a throbbing torment.

Mark was sitting by her bed, his expression unreadable.

He looked relieved when her eyes fluttered open.

"You're still here," he murmured, almost to himself.

Then, his voice hardened. "Listen to me, Sarah. Things have changed. You can't be 'Sarah Hayes' anymore. That identity is... problematic."

He meant the hit-and-run, the committal.

"From now on, you're 'Anna.' A distant cousin, here for quiet care. No one must know the truth. It's for your own protection. And ours."

Her identity, erased. Her purpose, to be hidden.

A nurse came in, a stern-faced woman Mark had clearly hired.

She carried a set of electric clippers.

Mark nodded to the nurse. "It's part of the 'treatment.' To prevent infections."

Sarah knew it wasn't. It was symbolic. Severing her from her past.

The clippers hummed. Her hair, long and dark, fell to the floor in clumps.

She felt nothing. Just a dull, aching emptiness.

Her emotional attachments, her sense of self, were being shaved away with her hair.

Mark watched, expecting tears, a protest, something.

She gave him nothing. Her face was a blank mask.

He looked uncomfortable, shifting in his chair.

This detached, indifferent Sarah was new to him.

He preferred her when she was predictably emotional, easier to manipulate.

"When you're... better," Mark said, clearing his throat, "there's something I need from you. Your father, David, he made some bad investments. Again."

Of course he did.

"He needs access to that secure financial modeling system you built. The original one. He thinks it can help him recover the losses."

The one Jessica had used for her internship. The one Sarah had locked down after realizing how they' d exploited it.

"It's for the family, Sarah. Anna."

He linked it to her father, a deliberate emotional prod.

Sarah did a quick mental calculation.

The Foundation' s deadline. David' s desperate need for her old system.

He' d be asking for it in about an hour, when she was supposed to be dead.

A ghost of a smile touched her lips.

"Tell him I'll think about it," she whispered, her voice weak.

Let them scramble. Let them face the consequences of their greed without her.

She closed her eyes, a profound weariness pulling her down.

Sleep, deep and dreamless, finally claimed her.

A sudden, sharp sound startled her awake.

The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the Foundation' s tablet.

"Zero days, ten minutes remaining."

A figure stood silhouetted against the dim light from the hallway.

Jessica.

She held something metallic in her hand, glinting faintly.

A pair of heavy shears.

Jessica moved towards the bed, a predatory stillness about her.

"You just won't die, will you?" Jessica hissed, her voice venomous. "Mark still talks about you. Still worries. Even now."

She raised the shears. "If you're going to be an invalid, you might as well look the part. No more pretty face for anyone to remember."

Jessica lunged, aiming the shears at Sarah' s face.