Chapter 9 - Project Lazarus
Cole finally told the truth.
All of it.
Project Lazarus began after Amelia became ill.
Vincent Carter refused to accept that his daughter might die.
He funded experimental immunology.
Stem-cell treatments.
Blood compatibility studies.
Most legitimate.
Some not.
Then Amelia responded to one therapy dramatically.
Vincent became obsessed.
He believed the Carter antigen profile could be used to produce highly personalized regenerative treatments.
The problem:
He needed genetically close donors across generations.
He began cataloging family.
Secretly.
David.
Marcus.
Margaret.
Cousins.
Children who might exist someday.
“Why Chloe?”
“Her profile may combine David’s marker with Natasha’s.”
I stared.
“My blood?”
Cole nodded.
I had once donated blood during college.
That record entered a national research database.
Vincent's people found it years later.
David and I meeting may not have been chance.
That chilled me more than anything.
“What?”
David looked furious.
Cole explained.
Eight years ago, David attended the charity fundraiser where we met because Vincent had specifically encouraged him to go.
Vincent knew I would be there.
“He matched us?”
“Possibly.”
I wanted to throw up.
My love story might have been a laboratory arrangement.
David looked worse.
Then Margaret said:
“I knew.”
Everyone turned.
She admitted discovering part of Vincent’s plan shortly before I became pregnant.
That was why she threatened me into leaving.
Not because of the succession trust.
That came later.
She wanted Chloe outside the research system.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you would have gone to David.”
“Yes!”
“And David would have confronted Vincent.”
“Yes!”
“He would have died.”
“Maybe!”
I was screaming now.
Good.
I had earned it.
Then Chloe entered quietly.
I stopped.
She looked scared.
I immediately knelt.
“I’m sorry.”
“Did Grandpa make me?”
My heart shattered.
“No.”
She had heard too much.
“No one made you.”
David whispered from the bed:
“You exist because your mother and I loved each other.”
I looked at him.
Past tense.
True.
Complicated.
Enough for Chloe.
Then Marcus received new information.
The bank envelope had been recovered.
Not by them.
Amelia sent photographs.
Inside were letters Vincent wrote before his supposed death.
Project Lazarus records.
And one recent document.
Dated last month.
Vincent Carter had authorized a procedure.
Subject:
DAVID CARTER.
I stared.
David's emergency surgery wasn't random.
Someone had engineered his medical crisis to reactivate Lazarus.
Why?
To bring compatible family members together.
Me.
Chloe.
Amelia.
Elena.
Marcus.
Everyone had converged.
Exactly like someone wanted.
Then David asked:
“If Father's alive, where has he been for twelve years?”
Cole looked disturbed.
“Maybe Project Lazarus worked.”
Silence.
“What does that mean?”
“Vincent had terminal cancer before he was shot.”
Margaret stared.
“No.”
“He hid it.”
Cole continued.
“If he's alive now, then whatever therapy Amelia survived…”
“…he used on himself,” David finished.
Then my phone buzzed.
A photograph from Amelia.
Vincent standing inside an industrial medical laboratory.
Beside him:
A hospital bed.
Empty restraints.
And written on the wall behind him:
SUBJECT 7 — CHLOE SIMMONS.
David tried getting out of bed again.
This time nobody stopped him.
May you like
Because underneath the photograph was a message:
WE HAVE SIX HOURS BEFORE HE COMES FOR HER.
