THE NDA

THE NDABOOK 5CHAPTER 12: THE TOWER 2.0

THE NDA

BOOK 5

CHAPTER 12: THE TOWER 2.0

The car ride was 40 minutes of silence.

Hope was in the van in front of us. I could see her through the window. Awake. Not crying.

That was worse.

"Don’t look at her," Damian said. "They want you to break."

"I’m already broken," I said.

The Cole Group Argentina Tower was 50 floors. Glass. New.

Same logo. Same monster.

The men with guns led us to Floor 50.

Victoria’s office.

She was standing at the window. Same ice eyes.

"Welcome home," she said.

"Where’s my daughter?" I asked.

"Sit," she said.

We sat.

Hope was brought in. By a woman in a white coat.

She ran to me. "Mama!"

I held her. "Baby, are you okay?"

"They said we were going on a trip," she said. "I’m scared."

"I know," I said. "Mama’s here."

Victoria clapped once. "Enough. Business."

She slid two tablets across the desk.

"New contract," she said. "9 years. Remote work from this tower. You live on Floor 49. She lives with you. No more running."

"Or what?" Damian asked.

"Or we activate the secondary protocol," she said. "In both of you. And in her."

"What secondary protocol?" I asked.

"The one that makes you forget you ever had a choice," she said. "The one that makes you love working for us."

Damian stood. "You’re not touching her."

"Sit down, Mr. Cole," Victoria said. "Or I’ll have her sedated and the procedure done tonight."

He sat.

I signed first. Zara Okoye.

He signed. Damian Cole.

Victoria smiled. "Excellent. Your apartment is ready. Move in tonight."

Floor 49 was a prison with a view.

2 bedrooms. 1 office. 1 living room.

Cameras in every corner. Except the bathrooms.

"For privacy," the guard said.

Hope got her own room. Pink. Toys.

She didn’t smile.

At 8AM Day 1, we started work.

AI Module 10. Build it.

I coded. Damian reviewed.

Hope did homework at the table next to us.

At 12PM, lunch was delivered.

At 6PM, work ended.

At 8PM, a guard knocked. "Evening check-in."

He looked around. Left.

At 10PM, Hope asked: "Mama, can we go home?"

"This is home now baby," I said.

She cried until she fell asleep.

Day 2: Same.

Day 3: Same.

Day 4: Same.

On Day 5, Victoria called us to Floor 50.

"Performance is down," she said. "89%. We need 95%."

"We’re tired," I said.

"Then be less tired," she said. "Or we’ll replace you."

She looked at Hope.

I understood.

On Day 6, we tried harder.

95%.

Day 7: 96%.

At night Damian and I whispered in the bathroom. Water running.

"We have to get her out," he said.

"How?" I asked. "There are guards on every floor."

"We find a way," he said.

On Day 10, Layo called.

From a burner. Somehow.

"Don’t trust the bathrooms," she said. "They have microphones."

"How are you calling?"

"I’m in the building," she said. "Maintenance. 3rd floor."

"What do you need?"

"A distraction," she said. "Friday. 2AM. Fire alarm."

"And then?"

"And then I get you out," she said. "Through the service elevator."

"Okay," I said. "We’ll do it."

I hung up.

Friday. 1:58 AM.

Damian pulled the fire alarm.

Sirens. Lights. Chaos.

Guards ran to Floor 50.

Layo was waiting at the service elevator. In a janitor uniform.

"Come," she said.

We ran. Hope in my arms.

Down. 49 floors.

At Floor 3, the elevator stopped.

Doors opened.

Victoria.

With 6 guards.

"Going somewhere?" she asked.

Layo pulled a gun. "Move."

Victoria didn’t move. "Shoot me and she dies," she said. "The chip in her is still active. I can trigger it from my watch."

Layo lowered the gun.

"Smart girl," Victoria said. "Take them back up."

Back to Floor 49.

Back to prison.

That night Victoria came to our apartment.

Alone.

"You tried to run," she said. "That was stupid."

"I had to try," I said.

"I know," she said. "That’s why I let you."

"What?"

"I needed to see if you’d still fight for her," she said. "You passed. 99% loyalty spike."

She was testing us.

"Now," she said, "let’s talk about Phase 7."

"What’s Phase 7?"

"Expansion," she said. "We’re opening 12 new towers. We need you to train the new Assets. Other versions. Other children."

"Other children?" Damian asked.

"Yes," she said. "12 girls. All with Hope’s DNA. All 3 years old. All yours."

My blood went cold. "You cloned her?"

"We perfected her," Victoria said. "And you’re going to teach them how to be like her."

"No," I said.

"Yes," she said. "Or we activate the chip. In all 13 of them."

She left.

That night I didn’t sleep.

Damian held me. "We’ll find a way."

"There is no way," I said.

On Day 15, they brought the girls.

12 of them. Mini Hopes.

They looked at me. "Mama?"

My heart broke.

"Hi babies," I said.

We spent the day teaching them. Reading. Singing.

At 6PM they were taken to their dorm on Floor 48.

One of them, the smallest, grabbed my leg. "Don’t leave me."

"I won’t," I lied.

That night the chip in my head buzzed.

New directive: Emotional bonding with Assets is prohibited. Efficiency drops.

I ignored it.

On Day 20, Victoria tested us.

She brought the 12 girls to a room.

"Choose one," she said. "To be terminated. To improve the others."

"What?" I said.

"Choose," she said. "Or I choose all of them."

The girls were crying.

Damian stepped forward. "You’re a monster."

"Choose," she said again.

I looked at the girls.

I couldn’t.

"I can’t," I said.

"Then I will," she said.

She pointed to the smallest one. The one who grabbed my leg.

"No!" I screamed.

Guards took her away.

I didn’t see her again.

Day 21: 100% spike. Rage. Grief.

Victoria sent a note: Perfect. Keep it up.

On Day 30, Hope got sick.

Fever. 105.

The doctor said: "Stress. And the chip. It’s degrading."

"Remove it," I said.

"We can’t," he said. "Not without killing her."

Damian punched the wall. "Then what do we do?"

"You pray," the doctor said.

At 3AM, Hope woke up. "Mama?"

"I’m here baby."

"Don’t let them hurt the other girls," she whispered.

"I won’t," I said.

"You have to," she said. "You have to save them."

"How?"

"Like you saved me," she said. "By running."

She fell asleep.

At 6AM, I made a decision.

We were going to burn this place down.

On Day 35, I started planning.

Food. Water. Clothes. Hidden in Hope’s toys.

Damian mapped the guards. The cameras. The exits.

On Day 40, Layo called again.

"I’m still here," she said. "Still maintenance."

"Friday," I said. "2AM. Again."

"They’ll be expecting it," she said.

"Good," I said. "Let them."

Friday. 2AM.

We didn’t pull the fire alarm.

We pulled the power.

Whole tower went dark.

Emergency lights on.

Guards ran.

Layo opened the service elevator.

"12 girls," I said. "We’re taking all of them."

We went to Floor 48.

The girls were awake. Scared.

"Come," I said. "We’re going home."

We got 10 of them into the elevator.

2 were missing. Including the smallest one.

"Where’s Ana?" I asked.

"She’s in the lab," one girl said. "For testing."

Damian looked at me. "We can’t leave her."

"I know," I said.

We ran to the lab. Floor 45.

Ana was on a table. Wires on her head.

Victoria was there.

"Put her down," Victoria said.

"No," I said.

"Then she dies," Victoria said. She had a button.

I ran.

I grabbed Ana.

The button pressed.

Nothing happened.

"Surprise," Layo said from the door. "I disabled it."

Victoria’s face.

Priceless.

"Get them out," I said to Layo.

She nodded. Took the 10 girls.

Damian and I stayed with Ana.

Victoria smiled. "You think you won?"

"Yes," I said.

"Then you don’t know what’s in the basement," she said.

The floor shook.

Alarms.

"What did you do?" Damian asked.

"I activated Protocol Omega," she said. "If I can’t have you, no one can."

The tower started to collapse.

"Run!" Damian yelled.

We ran. Up. To the roof.

Helicopter was waiting.

Layo. The 10 girls. Hope.

We got on.

As we lifted off, the tower exploded behind us.

Floor by floor.

Victoria was standing on Floor 50. Watching.

She waved.

The last thing I saw before we were too high:

She jumped.

The helicopter flew.

For 2 hours. No one spoke.

We landed in a field. In Paraguay.

No tower. No board. No Cole.

Just 13 of us.

Me. Damian. Hope. 10 girls. Layo.

And Ana. Alive.

At dawn, I counted them.

All there.

Hope came to me. "Mama, are we safe?"

I looked at the sky. No drones. No cameras.

"Yes baby," I said. "We’re safe."

Damian put his arm around me. "What now?"

"Now," I said, "we raise them."

All 13.

Because family isn’t who they say you have to be.

Family is who you choose to save.

My phone buzzed. New burner.

One message.

You missed one.

- V

Attached: Photo.

Of Victoria. Alive. In a hospital bed.

Smiling.

Phase 8: Resurrection.

Begins now.