Chapter Three: The Positive Test
1241 Words
The backup ventilation system failed with a metallic wheeze. A heartbeat later, chemically altered vapor seeped through the ceiling grates.
Before Clara could process the sharp, synthetic scent, Sebastian’s arm clamped around her waist. He dragged her away from the center of the elevator, his heavy overcoat shielding her mouth and nose.
“Don’t breathe deeply,” he ordered, his voice vibrating against her ear. Clara felt the frantic thudding of his ribs.
“I’m trying,” she gasped. Her knees felt hollow. She wasn't breathing for one anymore.
Sebastian slammed his fist into the reinforced steel doors. “Override!”
Nothing. The emergency control panel remained dark.
“Of course,” he muttered.
Clara looked up. “You said your private security grid was impenetrable. You said you could protect me.”
“I can.”
“You don't sound convincing.”
His jaw tightened. “Right now, I’m calculating an unidentified toxin while trying to keep you breathing. Forgive my tone.”
His harshness should have angered her, but his focus silenced her. He was consumed by keeping her alive.
And the unborn child she carried.
A sharp metallic snap came from above. Sebastian looked up.
“Hold on to me.”
He braced his boots against the handrails, reached the ceiling panel, and tore the maintenance hatch free. Cold air rushed into the cabin. Clara coughed and inhaled.
“Ventilation shaft,” Sebastian said. “We’re scaling the framework. Now.”
“You’re insane. We are seventeen floors beneath the surface.”
“I don't play games with my life, and I certainly don't play them with yours. Give me your hands.”
She hesitated, touching her stomach.
“If I fall…”
“I’ve got you,” he said. “I won’t let you fall.”
She reached up. Sebastian hauled her into the cramped service shaft just as a thick white cloud engulfed the elevator.
They crawled through the narrow metal passage. Before they had gone ten feet, a boom shook the shaft. An orange fireball flashed below, sending heat against their backs.
“Keep moving!” Sebastian pulled her forward by the ankle. “Don’t look back!”
“Was that the elevator?”
“The main cables just blew. Move!”
They reached a maintenance hatch. Sebastian threw his weight against the lever, kicking it open. They tumbled into a dim corridor.
Clara landed on her side, instinctively protecting her abdomen.
Sebastian dropped beside her. “Are you hurt? Did you hit the floor?”
“I don't know. It’s just tight.”
He took her face in his hands. “If anything happens to this baby..”
“It won't,” she interrupted. “But we need to figure out who is pulling the strings of your empire.”
Combat boots echoed from the hallway. Sebastian stood, positioning himself between Clara and the approaching figure.
A senior security guard emerged from the shadows.
“Mr. Thorne! The executive penthouse network has been completely compromised. We’ve initiated a hard facility lockdown.”
Sebastian remained tense. “Who authorized it?”
The guard swallowed. “The system bypassed the firewalls using your personal biometric code.”
Sebastian’s expression hardened. “Mine? I’ve been trapped in an elevator for twenty minutes.”
Clara stepped forward. “That’s impossible. Your biometric data is encrypted.”
“There’s more,” the guard said. “Our human resources directory experienced a data purge seven minutes ago.”
“What kind of purge?”
“Every digital record of your employment has been wiped. Payroll, hiring records, corporate profile, security clearance. As far as the system is concerned, Clara Hayes does not exist.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “They aren't just trying to kill us. Someone is erasing her identity.”
“We intercepted a video file in the deep archives,” the guard continued. “It was buried under a partition dating back twenty-five years.”
He pulled out a rugged tablet.
Static filled the screen before revealing a wood-paneled office. Behind a mahogany desk sat Arthur Thorne, Sebastian’s late father. He looked exhausted.
“If this recording is being viewed,” Arthur said, “then the historical narrative was rewritten. The Vance logistics empire was never ruined by bad investments. The missing ninety-four million dollars was never lost.”
Clara’s breath caught.
“The executioner was inside my own house,” Arthur continued. “Someone I trusted with the foundational keys of this legacy. Someone who coveted the Vance assets enough to destroy them.”
Sebastian went rigid. “My uncle.”
“Richard?” Clara whispered. “The one who died twelve years ago?”
“He died twelve years ago,” Sebastian said. “Or so the family estate claimed.”
Arthur looked at his brother with fear. “He knows where the capital was diverted. He knows the syndicate parameters. If my timeline is cut short, he will return to finish what he started with the Vance bloodline. Do not let him..”
The recording fractured into static.
Sebastian’s phone chirped.
A message appeared:
YOU’RE GETTING CLOSER TO THE ROOT, SEBASTIAN.
Another notification followed:
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHY SHE FABRICATED THE DEATH CERTIFICATE FOR YOUR UNCLE.
Sebastian stared at the screen, his composure cracking.
“My mother… fabricated it?”
Clara stepped closer. “If your uncle didn't die twelve years ago, where has he been? Who is running this network?”
The guard’s radio crackled.
“Command, we have an incoming call from the downtown medical district. They’re demanding to speak with the executive office about a patient file.”
“Identify the facility,” Sebastian ordered.
The guard listened, then paled.
“St. Jude Private Maternity Clinic. The administrator says they are verifying a secondary laboratory panel.”
Clara’s stomach dropped. “I didn't give that clinic my name. I used a private app for the initial screening.”
“Neither did I,” Sebastian said.
“They aren't calling about an assistant’s file,” the guard continued. “The request wasn’t filed under Clara Hayes.”
“Then whose name?” Sebastian demanded.
“Clara Vance, sir. The secondary panel confirmed a positive match for a direct lineage marker.”
The room spun.
Vance.
Her father had changed their surname to Hayes when she was a child to hide them from their past. No one knew her real name.
Her phone suddenly vibrated. An unknown encrypted number filled the screen.
“Who is this?” she whispered.
A ragged breath came through the line, followed by a hospital monitor’s faint beep.
“Clara… listen to me carefully,” a woman whispered. Her voice was weak, but strangely familiar. “Do not trust the Thorne legacy. Do not trust Sebastian. He is his father’s son.”
Clara froze.
“Who are you? My mother died in a clinic when I was ten. I saw the records.”
A pause.
“That is exactly what the syndicate needed your father to believe to keep you alive, sweetheart. Look at the files.”
The line went dead.
Clara lowered the phone and looked at Sebastian. He was staring at his screen.
“My mother…” he whispered.
Then he read the final message aloud.
THE WOMAN WHO DIED TWELVE YEARS AGO IS STILL BREATHING.
A second line appeared.
AND SHE IS THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHICH BROTHER ACTUALLY FATHERED THE CHILD CLARA IS CARRYING.
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