Rain-soaked streets blurred beneath Eden Lin's heels as she slipped into Titan Venture Partners' emergency conference suite, clutching a battered leather satchel. The room's glass walls glowed faintly under fluorescent lights; inside, Quinn hovered over a forensic workstation, eyes glued to a trio of monitors.
Eden paused, breathing deep. “Status," she demanded, voice low.
Quinn pointed to the largest screen, where two DNA profiles were aligned in a forensic analysis program. **“Sample A: your coffee cup from last week's gala. Sample B: pacifier we retrieved from St. Mary's toddler ward. Both match the child's blood type—AB positive. And they match your genetic markers at ninety-seven-point-four percent probability."**
Eden's heart thundered. She sank into the leather chair, eyes burnin
