Legacy Poison

The weight of the files crushed her before she even touched them.

Geraldine stared at the folder labeled "Project Eden: Reena/Lovia", her heartbeat slow and heavy like a death drum. Lachlan was already rifling through another binder, murmuring codes and notes under his breath, but she couldn't move—not yet. The walls were thick with secrets, not air.

She finally opened the file.

A picture of Reena, no older than five, smiled up at her—eyes bright, missing a front tooth.

Subject 01-A: Reena Donovan.

Genome fusion test: Positive.

Cognitive Adaptability Score: 94%.

Emotional Sync: Red-level alert.

Suppress when needed.

A tremble passed through her body.

Another sheet—Lovia's.

Subject 01-B: Lovia Donovan.

Behavioral Mirror Index: High.

Emotion Retention Capacity: Stable.

Recommend enhancement before age 10.

Taped to the back was a syringe protocol. Serum names she'd never heard of.

Genome fusion? Emotional sync? Suppress when needed? Geraldine's stomach churned.

"These aren't just surveillance notes," she said, her voice dry and cracking. "They're… programming guides."

Lachlan nodded grimly. "They've been monitoring your daughters since birth. Not just watching—designing."

"For what?" she asked.

He pulled another folder from the shelf. "Control. Dominion doesn't want soldiers. They want heirs—perfectly loyal ones. If Bekett can't be trusted forever, he's raising replacements."

Geraldine staggered back, her mind spinning.

Her children were targets. Not for death—but for inheritance. And not the kind written in will and testament. This was genetic. Psychological. A manufactured legacy.

She gritted her teeth. "We're done here."

She grabbed the files. "Take what you can. We expose this, we tear Dominion from the inside. I want names. Labs. Scientists. Anyone who touched this."

Lachlan hesitated. "If you go public now—Bekett will kill to keep this buried."

"Then I'll bury him first."

They left the vault at 3:12 a.m.

By sunrise, they were back at the Donovan estate.

Tracy met her at the door, pale and silent. "The girls had nightmares. Reena cried in her sleep. Said someone in a white coat was poking her."

Geraldine's heart broke in places that didn't have names.

"Bring them to me."

She sat with them in bed, whispering lullabies she didn't remember learning. She kissed their foreheads, traced their hair, and held them until they drifted into a less haunted sleep.

Then, she called her lawyer.

"Prepare to draft full custody. I'm leaving him."

Later that day, the tension in the house was thick. Geraldine watched Bekett over dinner. He poured wine, talked about boardrooms, smiled at Lovia like he hadn't just turned her into an experiment. And all she could think about was the whisper in that recording:

"She won't. Her mother took the secrets to the grave."

But she hadn't. Her mother had left her the map. The roses. The key.

Geraldine was awake now. And the game was changing.

At nightfall, she locked herself in her study. Spread all the files out like a war map. Threads began to connect. The school principal who'd vanished two weeks ago—he had flagged Reena for a psychological re-evaluation. The pediatrician who retired suddenly—she'd once been hired through a Donovan subsidiary. The strange vitamins Bekett insisted the girls take every morning.

Her blood boiled.

They were everywhere.

Dominion was already inside her life. Her home. Her daughters' bodies.

She burned the pills first. Then she hacked into Bekett's private medical records, tracing them to a lab under Dominion Research Unit #014.

She dialed Lachlan.

"We need to raid the lab," she said. "Tonight."

"You don't even have a plan."

"I'm not asking for permission."

There was silence on the line.

Then: "Send me the coordinates."

By midnight, they were parked outside the lab—a concrete bunker tucked behind a pharmaceutical front in the city's industrial district.

Geraldine had a stolen access badge. Lachlan had a silenced gun. No time for finesse.

Inside, sterile lights flickered. Geraldine's heels clicked softly against the floor.

She found a door labeled: Subject Control – 01-A/01-B.

Her hand froze on the handle.

Behind the door were rows of canisters and biometric data logs. And in the center—a tank holding vials of blue serum.

Lachlan muttered, "Eden Serum."

On a screen beside it, Geraldine saw something that made her heart stop:

Next trial scheduled: May 9th.

Patient Delivery: Home address—Donovan Residence.

Her home.

They were going to dose her children. Soon.

She pulled out her phone, took photos of everything.

"I'm ending this," she whispered.

Lachlan looked over. "How?"

"Public exposure. Dominion is a ghost right now. But if I bring this to light with the right leverage—media, law, even blackmail—I can cut its funding, dismantle its reach, and pin Bekett as the monster in charge."

"You'd survive the storm?"

"No," she said. "I'll create it."