Chapter 43
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Sinclair Dominion HQ | Office of The CEO
Early Afternoon
Sebastian stood in the doorway, hands behind his back, posture crisp. Lucian was behind his desk, finishing a signature with the precision of a man who never rushed.
Without looking up, Lucian said, “Close the door.”
A quiet click. Then: silence.
Lucian finally raised his gaze. “Report.”
Sebastian stepped forward, but not all the way to the desk. “I traced the name you gave me. Everett Lysander.”
Lucian gave the slightest nod. “And?”
“There’s no digital trail from the last ten years. Anything after 2001 is either scrubbed or never existed. But before that…”
Lucian's eyes narrowed. “Speak.”
Sebastian exhaled—more out of habit than nerves. “He was born Everett Lysander Voss. February third, 1975. California. Records are minimal. Parents deceased by the time he was twenty. No siblings. Enrolled in a gifted program as a child, briefly associated with a private research foundation in the early '90s.”
He glanced at Lucian’s face. No reaction.
Sebastian continued. “But then he vanishes. Until one name resurfaces years later—on intermittent surveillance logs, low-clearance vetting forms, and access panels across three continents.”
He held up a printed page. One word circled in red ink.
Lucian’s fingers stilled on the armrest. Just once. A flicker of reaction — quickly restrained.
Sebastian caught it. Filed it.
“He changed his name. Went by Eli Voss starting somewhere in 2001. I haven’t confirmed the legal switch yet. Could’ve been unofficial. Most of the Eli Voss records are tied to our security files, which suggests he's been under Dominion’s umbrella longer than we thought.”
“Longer than you thought,” Lucian said, voice low.
A short beat passed.
“I cross-checked staff photos, informal team logs… They match. Same man. Same build. Same scar under the chin.”
Lucian leaned back slightly. “Anything else?”
“I haven’t told anyone. Not even Ash or Vex.”
Lucian’s stare hardened. “Good. Don’t.”
Sebastian nodded once.
Then, softer: “Sir… the timing, the disappearance, the false name—it all feels deliberate. This isn’t some random alias.”
Lucian stood, finally. “No, it’s not.”
He walked to the window, watching the skyline ripple in the muted gold of afternoon.
“He embedded himself. Right under our nose.”
Sebastian didn’t speak.
Lucian added, more to himself, “Maxim knew.”
That landed like a drop of ink in water—spreading without noise.
Lucian turned back. “You did well.”
Sebastian bowed his head slightly, but stayed where he was. “What now?”
Lucian’s voice dropped to a hush, sharp and contained. “Now, we find out why.”
Sinclair Dominion HQ | Top Floor Conference Room
Late Afternoon
The conference room held more bodies than usual.
The long obsidian table stretched down the center of the room, now ringed with department heads, field liaisons, and operations strategists. Monitors embedded in the table glowed faint blue, syncing in real-time with the schematic projected across the wall.
Lucian stood at the head once more, remote in hand, suit jacket abandoned over a chair. His shirtsleeves were rolled, crisp at the elbows. Controlled. Commanding.
To his right sat Kristina, face neutral, pen poised. Sebastian stood just behind her, tablet in hand, scanning data as it refreshed. Ash leaned back in a chair across from them, half-listening, always watching. Vex slouched two seats down, boot propped on the table until someone from accounting gave her a look.
Eli stood this time, near the back wall, arms folded. Silent. Sharp-eyed.
The projection on the wall displayed the now-familiar web: a pulsing global schematic of transactions, layered with dates and tags.
“Let’s revisit what we’re dealing with,” Lucian began. His voice cut through the hum of tablet taps and shifting chairs. “This is a continuity from my briefing with my team. For those who weren’t there, you’ll be caught up now.”
He clicked the remote. The schematic zoomed in on Liechtenstein and Jakarta.
“Three shell companies. Reactivated after years of dormancy. Encrypted transfers linked to consulting firms tied to a decommissioned Dominion contract.”
He paused, eyes scanning the room.
“These are not random events. Either someone is poking around old networks—or someone never left.”
One of the new attendees—a logistics liaison named Callum—raised a brow. “These were under Alton’s tenure?”
Lucian nodded. “Yes. Before the collapse of the biotech arm. These were supposed to be dismantled post-2007. The fact they’ve resurfaced—quietly, and across three nations—suggests deliberate reactivation.”
A quiet murmuring passed between two field coordinators seated near the back.
“Sebastian,” Lucian said.
Sebastian stepped forward. “We’ve initiated passive scans on all known endpoints. Paper trails are thin, but there’s consistency in the pattern: small sums moved first—probing, we think—followed by heavier sums. Enough to fund short-term ops.”
He touched the screen. Three dots pulsed red.
“These are the primary endpoints. One firm in Vaduz. Another in Jakarta. And the third—domestic. Subleased property in Virginia, fronting as a defense consultancy.”
Ash whistled low. “Right in our backyard.”
Lucian continued. “Each team has their role. Here's the breakdown.”
He gestured to the screen. New icons appeared beside each location.
“Jakarta: Vex takes point. Kristina supports. You leave tomorrow on staggered flights—low profile, no Dominion tags. You'll extract intel from the shell’s registered office and confirm who’s physically on-site. Kristina, you’re to handle on-ground comms and verification. No trace.”
Kristina nodded once, noting something down without looking up.
“Vaduz: Sebastian will handle remote forensics. Our Zurich contacts are prepped to support if in-person action becomes necessary. Ash, you’re on standby for breach protocol if the data turns volatile.”
Ash grinned. “My favorite kind of protocol.”
“Virginia: Eli,” Lucian said without pause, “you’ll coordinate domestic surveillance. Use minimal assets. Quiet. I want eyes inside that building without alerting whoever’s repopulating it.”
Eli inclined his head slightly. “Already pulled the zoning permits and security rosters. I’ll start tonight.”
Lucian let that sit for a moment.
Then: “Additional teams will be assigned to perimeter cleanup, comms interference, and internal data sweep. If this is a buried pipeline being reactivated, we stop it before it floods.”
A murmur of acknowledgment passed around the table.
Someone down the line—Nina from the analytics division—asked, “Is this tied to the Prague intel leak?”
Lucian looked at her for a beat. “That’s what we’re here to find out.”
The room quieted again.
He clicked the remote one final time. The screen went black.
“We move now. Quiet. Fast. Assume nothing. Report everything.”
People began rising, voices low as they formed out in smaller groups—briefing within the briefing. Tactical layers falling into place.
Kristina gathered her things, expression unreadable. Vex stretched like a cat, then murmured something under her breath that made Ash snort. Sebastian was already deep in logistics on his tablet.
Eli didn’t move right away.
He looked at Lucian across the room. Their eyes met—neutral. Still. But something flickered underneath.
Lucian looked away first.
As the room cleared, Kristina lingered near the door. Just enough to see Eli brush past her without a word.
Then she left.
Lucian Sinclair’s Estate | Lucian’s Study
The fire burned low in the hearth, casting soft gold across the walls and dark-paneled shelves. The decanter on the table, half-full, hadn’t been touched. Lucian stood near the window, sleeves rolled, tie loosened, his profile caught in shadow.
Sebastian stood by a leather chair, tablet in hand. He wasn’t relaxed. His posture was careful, deliberate. Focused.
Eli leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, eyes distant — not looking at anyone. Just waiting.
Lucian finally turned. “Voss.”
Not a question. Not even an accusation. Just the truth, sharp and still.
Eli’s mouth pulled into a thin line. “Haven’t heard that name in a while.”
“But it’s yours,” Lucian said evenly.
Sebastian opened the tablet, pulled up the documents. He didn’t speak yet, just let the screen light his face. “Everett Lysander Voss. Born 1975. Last known address: Riverside Apartments. Disappeared April 1993. No forwarding information. No missing persons report filed.”
Eli looked away, jaw tight.
“Same year,” Sebastian added, “you show up at Quintis Biotech as an unpaid intern. Partial clearance. Seen near restricted areas. One tech called you ‘the kid who knows more than he should.’”
Lucian’s brow twitched.
Sebastian swiped again. “Unlabeled photo, early ’94. You’re in it. Seventeen or eighteen. Scanned from an internal backup. Tag reads, ‘Voss?’” He looked up. “It’s you.”
Eli didn’t deny it. “I was trying to find something. Anything.”
Lucian’s voice was low. “About Kristina’s parents?”
Eli nodded once. “They were killed for getting too close. To the wrong people. The wrong project.”
Lucian stepped closer, eyes sharp. “Project Hades.”
Sebastian stilled.
Eli exhaled slowly. “A black-budget biotech program embedded in legitimate research. Quintis was one of their covers. Project Hades wasn’t just about training assets — it was about reshaping memory, wiping records, creating ghosts. I was one of them. So were others.”
“You ran,” Lucian said.
“I survived,” Eli corrected. “Barely.”
He looked at Sebastian, then back to Lucian.
“I changed everything. Name, history, prints. I built Eli piece by piece. But Everett… he never stopped looking. I knew something happened to the Alonzo family. Kristina’s parents weren’t just researchers — they were whistleblowers. Or trying to be.”
Lucian folded his arms. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
Eli hesitated.
Then: “Because I didn’t know how to explain who I was. Not to her. Not without pulling her into something that could still get her killed.”
Silence. Heavy and brittle.
Lucian took a step forward. “Do you have feelings for her?”
Sebastian looked up.
Eli closed his eyes for half a second. Then opened them. “Yes.”
Lucian’s jaw flexed. “Since when?”
Eli’s voice dropped. “Since she used to smile at me in the hallway of that building where we both grew up. Since I watched her parents treat me like I mattered when mine forgot I existed.”
“And now?” Lucian asked.
“Still,” Eli said, quietly.
Lucian didn’t react. Not outwardly.
“What do you want from her?” he asked. “Redemption? Forgiveness?”
“I want her safe,” Eli said. “That’s it. I want her to know the truth. About what happened to her family. About how close she came to being erased too. If I’m the only one who can uncover it — I’ll do it. Even if it means she never speaks to me again.”
Lucian was unreadable. But Sebastian’s grip on the tablet had relaxed.
Eli looked between them both. “Some of the records I’ve been digging into — they connect to Sinclair Dominion. Not you directly,” he added, looking at Lucian, “but old assets. Shell corporations. Someone from before you took control. Someone who protected Hades.”
Lucian’s gaze darkened.
Eli took a breath. “You said you wanted the truth. That’s it. That’s all of it. You can decide what you want to do with me.”
A silence stretched.
Then Lucian spoke, quietly. “Leave us, Sebastian.”
Sebastian hesitated. Then nodded, shutting the tablet and stepping out. The door clicked softly behind him.
Lucian didn’t move from the fire.
“Sit down, Eli,” he said.
Eli didn’t.
“I said sit,” Lucian repeated.
Reluctantly, Eli lowered himself into the chair across from him.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The fire crackled, low and slow.
Then Lucian turned to him fully. “You kept all this from her.”
“I was protecting her.”
“You were protecting yourself.”
Eli didn’t argue.
Lucian’s voice hardened. “You say you don’t want her. But you watch her. You follow her. You’re still here.”
“I’m here because I haven’t finished what I started,” Eli said. “Kristina lost everything, and no one gave her answers. If I can give her even one—then maybe I’ll sleep at night again.”
Lucian narrowed his eyes. “And if I told you to stay away from her?”
Eli stood. His voice was firm now, steel beneath the grief.
“Then I’d say I already am. I’m not trying to take her from you. But if you hurt her — if you ever put your ambition ahead of her safety, in ways even you don’t see — I won’t wait for permission.”
Lucian didn’t respond.
Eli turned to go.
But at the door, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.
“I loved her back when she barely remembered my name. I might still. But that’s not why I’m here.”
Then he left. The door remained open behind him.
Lucian didn’t move for a long time.
Just watched the fire.
The echo of Eli’s footsteps faded down the hall, but his words didn’t.
I loved her when she didn’t know my name. I might still. But that’s not why I’m here.
Lucian’s jaw tightened. He hated the truth in it — not because it threatened him, but because it didn’t. Eli wasn’t bluffing. He wasn’t manipulating. And that, somehow, made it worse.
Because Lucian knew what it was to love someone in silence.
To burn with it.
He should’ve felt victorious. Kristina had chosen him. Stood beside him. Slept in his arms. And yet… Eli’s quiet ache echoed somewhere in Lucian’s chest. The kind that didn’t ask for anything in return.
Lucian stared into the flames.
I won. And still, I feel like I’m bleeding.
He didn’t doubt Eli’s loyalty.
He doubted what the truth would do once it unraveled.
The shell companies. The biotech funding. The possibility that Dominion’s foundations — the empire he now stood at the top of — were rotted through from the beginning.
And if Kristina found out that her past and his were tangled together, not just by love but by blood and ruin—
Would she stay?
Lucian swallowed hard. The fire cracked.
He let it. Let it fill the silence where certainty used to live.
Then, slowly, he stood. Walked to the window. And let the weight of what came next settle across his shoulders like old steel.
The past doesn't stay buried just because no one speaks its name.
—To be continued.
