na

hats, their joy a stark contrast to the hollow ache in my chest. Home. The word had lost all meaning. It was an illusion, a crue

ess that followed. Mom and Dad, gone. Just like that. In the blur of shock and grief, it was Howard who had held me, his arms shaking but strong, promising to always protect me. Bryan, usuall

den, and then blamed me for the sheep' s wounds. But not anymore. My plane ticket to Zurich was a one-way trip to a future where their be

azar Analytics, a data brokerage firm that operated in the shadows, had largely entrusted my upbringing to my older br

ck glasses. Bryan, reckless and wild, had once snuck me onto the roof on a clear night, pointing o

Dad's shoes, burdened by a legacy built on secrets and morally ambiguous data collecti

ago, leaving behind a destitute family. Or so they claimed. I still remember Howard, his eyes gleaming with a misguided sense of du

y. Not a direct descendant, but a distant relative, a sickly child whose manipulative mother had orchestrated this elaborate char

ting lies. He showed me forged documents, insisted on his "responsibility" to Dad's supp

lly" stumble upon my private notes, feign innocence when caught, and then twist my words, making me sound possessive, ungrateful. I was no longer t

atch on his arm that I knew he' d inflicted himself. And just

n my mind, pulling me back from the dark memories. The

al curtain. If they didn't want the truth, then they could live in their lies. I wo

's work, lay before me, waiting for their final touches. I heard my brothers' voices in the hallway

ancis by his side. My lab, my sanctuary, my forbidden zone. I had explicit warnings

y voice firm. "I'm in the middle of a critic

ively. "He just wants to look

alked past them, and went to the breakroom, hoping fo

for the project I was finalizing, was gone. My blood ran cold. I searched frantically, my eyes scanning every s

of meticulous work, shattered. I knew. I just knew. The lab cameras had been

of innocent distraction. His eyes, though, held a f

ice dangerously calm. "D

nto theatrical tears. "Jenna! How c

ntorted with rage. "What have you done

my voice tight with frustration. "The one I've

ard demanded, h

lders slumping. "The cameras w

who was still sobbing so

s voice muffled by his han

back to me, his voice laced with finali

ure. It was almost poetic, the way they were forcing my hand, p

"You've been acting strangely lately, Jenna," he said, his voice

"Why, Howard? Why do you always make excuses for him? What exactl

, I stepped into the elevator, the doors slid