Hong Kong. The Sky Garden Tower.
The ballroom shimmered like a dream. Crystal chandeliers glittered above a sea of designer gowns and tuxedos. Classical music poured from a live orchestra, wrapping around the wealthy, the powerful... and the wicked.
But beneath the glamour, danger pulsed.
Alethea stood at the edge of the marble balcony, cloaked in a floor-length black velvet gown that hugged her like second skin. A diamond serpent coiled around her neck. Her long gloves concealed nano-daggers. Her gaze scanned the crowd with precision.
Beside her, Marco was perfection in a tailored obsidian tuxedo, the mask of a billionaire prince. His presence alone turned heads—and drew the attention they needed.
Lucien's voice buzzed softly in their comms.
"Target in position. Project Genesis investors are gathering in the VIP lounge—restricted access, retinal scan only."
Alethea sipped her wine. "Not a problem."
They descended the grand staircase slowly, all eyes on them—Hong Kong's elite mistaking them for aristocrats newly arrived from Monaco.
They passed through marble corridors until they reached the Restricted Wing.
Two guards.
No emotion.
No room for error.
Alethea turned to Marco, whispering, "Time to dance."
He gave her a smirk. "After you, cara mia."
Alethea walked toward the guards confidently. They lifted their weapons.
"Access denied. Turn around."
With one graceful move, she threw her clutch in the air—a blinding flash exploded from it. In that split-second, Marco disarmed both men, Alethea caught the clutch mid-air, and they slipped through the retina scanner using a false biometric lens she wore under her eye.
The doors hissed open.
Inside: chaos in disguise.
Digital blueprints of Project Genesis floated above a long table where men and women in suits spoke in coded tongues. In the center was a cryo-chamber holding what looked like a sleeping body—almost identical to Alethea.
Lucien gasped through the comms.
"They cloned her. They made... a backup."
Marco's jaw clenched. "They're selling your shadow."
Alethea's eyes narrowed. "Then we burn the whole theater."
She uploaded a virus into the mainframe using her ring. The system cracked. Lights flickered. Fire alarms triggered—but instead of water, neuro-gas hissed from the vents.
Alethea and Marco dropped gas masks on as chaos erupted.
Screams.
Trampling feet.
Security drew weapons, but they were too late.
Alethea leapt onto the table, flipping mid-air, landing a roundhouse kick on the main investor. Marco took down two others with precise shots from his silent pistol.
As the crowd cleared and alarms screamed, Alethea approached the cryo-pod.
Her clone.
Eyes closed.
Peaceful. Dangerous.
Alethea stared. Was this her… without the pain? Without the war?
She whispered, "You don't get to take my story."
Then she pressed a detonator into the chamber's core and stepped back.
"Lucien, extraction. Now."
"Already waiting on the roof. Go!"
Flames rose behind them as they sprinted to the helipad—Alethea's dress torn, her heart pounding, but her will unbroken.
As the helicopter soared over the burning tower, Marco held her hand tightly.
She didn't speak.
Just watched the flames consume the lies below.
Because this time, the ghosts wouldn't win.
Zurich, Switzerland.
Private Estate of the Van Dorne Family.
The wind was colder here—clean, crisp, and unforgiving. The kind of cold that wasn't just weather… but memory.
Alethea stepped out of the black armored SUV, her heels crunching on the snowy gravel. The Van Dorne estate loomed ahead: a gothic masterpiece of stone, iron, and secrets. It was a fortress disguised as a home.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Marco asked quietly behind her.
Alethea didn't flinch.
"I have to."
She hadn't seen this place since she was nine. The night her mother disappeared. The night her father—Dominic Van Dorne—was declared dead in a car explosion orchestrated by his enemies.
But now she knew the truth: he had never died.
He had vanished willingly.
To build something darker.
Lucien's voice came through her earpiece.
"Thermal scans confirm one living body inside the main chamber. He's waiting for you."
Alethea entered the estate, her footsteps echoing down marble halls lined with oil paintings—portraits of men with eyes like hers. Cold. Calculating. Cursed.
She reached the study.
The doors opened automatically.
And there he was.
Dominic Van Dorne. Her father.
Older. Grayer. Still terrifying. A king in exile.
"You've grown," he said simply, standing by the fire with a glass of brandy. "But I see her in you."
Alethea's breath caught. "Mother?"
He nodded. "She was the fire. I was the storm. You are both."
She didn't let emotion win. "Why did you fake your death?"
He sipped. "To save you. To build something greater."
She stepped closer. "You built a clone. A secret military program. You sold lives for data. That's not greater—it's madness."
His gaze hardened. "The world is ruled by those who dare. And I dared. For you."
"No," she said coldly. "You did it for control."
Suddenly, the walls hissed—panels shifted. Steel doors sealed behind her. The room became a prison.
"I couldn't let you leave, Alethea," Dominic said. "You are the key. The final piece of my legacy."
She moved fast, pulling a blade from her boot.
But he was faster.
A click.
Gas released.
She stumbled back.
"Marco—!" she shouted through the comms. But there was only static.
Dominic walked toward her as she dropped to her knees.
"Sleep, my daughter. When you wake… the world will belong to us."
Her vision blurred. Her father's face became shadows. The world went black.
Darkness.
Alethea drifted in and out of consciousness—caught between a drugged haze and the distant sound of mechanical humming. The cold metal beneath her skin reminded her she wasn't in a dream. She was in a lab. Underground. Alone.
Her wrists were restrained. Arms stretched outward. Eyes heavy.
But her mind? Still hers.
"Vitals stable. Neural resistance high," a male voice said in a sterile tone. "Begin Phase One."
The lights flared overhead, revealing a sterile white chamber surrounded by glass. Scientists in black suits. Monitors flashing with bio-data. And in the center console—Dominic Van Dorne, watching like a god over his creation.
Alethea. His daughter. His prototype.
"Do you know what makes you different from the others?" he asked through the intercom.
"You're not just powerful. You were born for this. Your mind is the map. Your blood, the key."
She blinked. Her voice was groggy but strong.
"And you… are insane."
He smiled thinly. "You'll thank me once the awakening is complete."
Suddenly, sharp pain shot through her temples. The machines around her surged, reading neural activity. Her DNA was being mapped, hacked, replicated.
"STOPPP!" she screamed, her body arching.
But there was no mercy. Only science.
**
Meanwhile…
Marco slammed his fist through a reinforced door somewhere beneath the Swiss Alps. Lucien stood behind him, hacking into the lab's AI system.
"Alethea's vitals are spiking," Lucien said. "They've started the MindSync protocol. If we don't stop it—"
"We will," Marco growled. "I'm not losing her."
He activated the EMP device strapped to his chest. One blast—one shot to shut down the system.
"You'll fry everything," Lucien warned.
"Good," Marco said. "I'll burn this entire mountain if I have to."
**
Back in the lab, Alethea's vision swirled. Memories poured in like a tidal wave. Her childhood. Her training. Her mother's voice. Her first night with Marco.
And suddenly—
Everything went black.
A burst of sparks. Screams. Alarms.
Marco's EMP had detonated.
Alethea opened her eyes.
The restraints loosened.
The lights dimmed.
She was free.
And she remembered everything.
Including where her father kept the master key.
She rose, slow but lethal.
"System override detected," a robotic voice echoed.
"Emergency protocol initiated. Facility self-destruct in 10 minutes."
Footsteps echoed outside the chamber—Marco's voice shouting her name.
"ALETHEAAAAA!"
Their eyes met as he kicked the door open.
And she ran into his arms.
"You came," she whispered.
"I always will," he said, holding her tight.
But there was no time for tenderness.
The world around them was collapsing.
And Dominic Van Dorne?
He wasn't done yet.
He had escaped.
TBC..................