Chapter 13 - My Grandmother’s Laboratory
I refused to enter alone.
Vincent expected that.
The elevator didn't move until Laura stepped inside too.
Why?
Because she carried Carter biometric access through Amelia.
Then David entered.
So did Rebecca.
Marcus stayed above with Amelia and Elena.
Four people descended.
Sublevel four looked untouched by time.
Old steel cabinets.
Modern equipment installed around them.
Photographs of scientists.
Then I saw my grandmother.
Helen Simmons.
Young.
Standing beside Vincent.
And another man.
David whispered:
“My father.”
I stared.
A much younger Vincent Carter.
Beside him:
Nathan Cole’s father.
And Helen.
Project Lazarus wasn't Vincent’s invention.
My grandmother helped create it.
Laura explained.
Initially, Lazarus was designed to treat children with rare blood disorders.
Helen developed compatibility theory.
Vincent funded it after Amelia became sick.
Then success changed him.
He began thinking beyond treatment.
Regeneration.
Longevity.
Biological inheritance.
Control over death.
Helen objected.
She created safeguards.
One was genetic access based on her bloodline.
Why?
Because she feared Vincent might someday try to hide or weaponize the research.
She wanted a descendant of hers to have the ability to expose everything.
Me.
I laughed bitterly.
Another dead relative leaving responsibility inside my DNA.
Then David found a recording.
Helen.
My grandmother’s voice.
“If you are hearing this, Vincent has ignored every warning.”
I started crying.
She continued:
“Lazarus cannot preserve life indefinitely.”
Rebecca nodded.
She knew.
“The treatment causes progressive cellular instability.”
Vincent had been dying slowly for twelve years.
Every treatment bought time and worsened the next crisis.
Then Helen said something unexpected:
“There is no cure in Carter blood.”
David looked at me.
“The final protocol requires destruction of the Lazarus cell line.”
Not another treatment.
An ending.
Vincent wasn't searching for Chloe because she could save him.
He wanted her because her unique blood combination might allow him to avoid destroying the cell line.
A gamble.
Then the laboratory doors opened.
Vincent entered.
Alive.
Tall despite age.
Gray-haired.
Gaunt.
Still radiating authority.
David stared at his father.
“You let me bury you.”
Vincent smiled.
“I allowed you to become strong.”
“You tried killing me.”
“I made you necessary.”
David looked disgusted.
“Chloe is not part of this.”
Vincent’s eyes moved to me.
“She already is.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“You still think parenthood creates ownership.”
That sentence surprised me.
Then Vincent continued:
“I don't need the girl physically.”
My blood went cold.
“Then what do you need?”
“Her stored neonatal sample.”
What?
Rebecca went pale.
“Impossible.”
Vincent smiled.
“The hospital already has it.”
Every newborn has routine blood spots stored for screening in some systems.
Chloe’s had been retained.
Someone obtained them.
Vincent already possessed enough material.
Then why bring me here?
Helen’s genetic access.
He needed me to unlock the archive containing the final Lazarus sequence.
“Open it.”
“No.”
He looked at David.
Then raised a remote.
Upstairs, monitors activated.
Marcus.
Amelia.
Elena.
Security doors sealed.
Gas system armed.
David lunged.
Vincent raised the remote.
“Don't.”
Everyone stopped.
“Open the archive.”
I stared at the panel.
My blood.
My choice.
Then Laura whispered:
“Helen built a second command.”
Vincent turned.
“What?”
Laura smiled.
“You never found it.”
She looked at me.
“Natasha, place your hand on the reader and say Helen’s full name.”
I did.
The system recognized me.
Vincent smiled.
Then I said:
“Helen Marie Simmons.”
The lights changed.
Not green.
Blue.
Every screen in the facility activated.
FILE RELEASE PROTOCOL INITIATED.
Vincent’s face collapsed.
“What did you do?”
Laura answered:
“What Helen always intended.”
The entire Lazarus archive began uploading externally.
Hospitals.
Federal agencies.
Medical ethics boards.
Courts.
Every experiment.
Every forged death.
Every hidden patient.
Vincent lunged toward the console.
David blocked him.
Then another file opened automatically.
SUBJECT: VINCENT CARTER.
Rebecca stared.
“There’s something wrong.”
“What?”
She read the original genetic profile.
Then looked at David.
“Vincent Carter doesn’t have Carter blood.”
Silence.
Vincent froze.
David whispered:
“What does that mean?”
May you like
Rebecca looked at Vincent.
“You’re not biologically related to David at all.”
