The smell of burning vellum was acrid and thick, stinging Elara’s lungs as the fire took hold of her father’s journal. The orange glow danced in Lucian’s gray eyes—eyes that usually held the cold calculation of a billionaire, but now held only the desperate hope of a father.
"It’s gone," Elara whispered, watching the "V.V." monogram curl into black ash. "The formulas, the baseline data... everything they need to replicate what Leo and Mia are."
"Not everything," Lucian said, his voice tight. He grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the stone stairs. "The data is gone, but the results are upstairs sleeping in their beds. We need to move. Now."
As they reached the top of the spiral staircase and slammed the hidden bookshelf shut, the manor’s silent atmosphere was shattered. A low, vibratin
