In the city of Elmira-where cobbled streets met sleek storefronts and cafés buzzed with student chatter-Dr. Joshua Bennett lived a life of quiet order. At just twenty-five, freshly graduated from medical school, he had returned to Almira University...
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"Prepare the extraction team," Nordstrom said quietly. "Dr. Bennet is about to take an unexpected leave of absence."
But as he spoke those final words, a sharp pain lanced through his chest. Erik Nordstrom, who had controlled countless minds and built an empire on the manipulation of human consciousness, suddenly found himself unable to control his own body.
The pain intensified, spreading down his left arm, and his vision began to blur. He gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles white against the black granite.
"Sir?" Dr. Kellner's voice seemed to come from very far away. "Sir, are you—"
The last thing Erik Nordstrom saw before consciousness fled was the city lights below, blurring into streaks of gold and white as his empire continued to function without him.
Eight Hours Later - Nordstrom Research Facility, Executive Wing
The antiseptic smell of the medical facility couldn't quite mask the underlying scent of something dying. Erik Nordstrom sat in his wheelchair behind the massive mahogany desk, oxygen cannula feeding into his nose, his once-powerful frame now reduced to sharp angles beneath expensive clothing. The cancer was winning, had been winning for months, but his eyes still burned with the fierce intelligence that had built an empire.
The massive coronary had been a wake-up call—his body was failing faster than anticipated. The cancer, stress, and years of ruthless ambition had finally caught up with him. But there was still work to be done, still a legacy to secure.
Aleksi stood before him, hands clasped behind his back in a posture that managed to convey both respect and barely controlled frustration. At thirty, he possessed his father's brilliant mind and had inherited the same capacity for ruthless calculation, though he masked it behind a veneer of modern sensibility. The family resemblance was unmistakable—the same pale Nordic features, the same piercing blue eyes—but where Erik's cruelty was openly acknowledged, Aleksi had learned to dress his in the language of scientific necessity and moral complexity.
"She got away," Erik said quietly, his voice a rasping whisper that somehow carried more menace than a shout. "The one asset we cannot afford to lose, and she simply... walked away."
"The operation was compromised from the start," Aleksi replied, his jaw tight. "Liu Virtanen had prepared contingencies we didn't anticipate. The warehouse was rigged with explosives, multiple escape routes—"
"Contingencies," Erik interrupted, the word dripping with contempt. "Contingencies are what you prepare when you might fail, Aleksi. I taught you to prepare for success."
Aleksi's hands clenched behind his back. "We had her. The memory fragments were triggering exactly as predicted. She was confused, disoriented—"
"And yet she fought. She adapted. She escaped." Erik's breathing apparatus hissed softly in the silence. "Tell me, son, what does that suggest about the effectiveness of our memory erasure protocols?"
