Chapter 8 - MIRIAM’S CONDITION
I did not go anywhere immediately.
That surprised Julian.
It enraged Cassandra.
“Miriam is trying to divide us.”
Cassandra said it through my closed door as though the three of us were suddenly a team.
I replied:
“We were never united.”
Julian asked:
“Where does she want you?”
“Not your concern.”
“I’m your husband.”
“Legally.”
Silence.
Good.
I called Miriam instead.
She answered immediately.
“You received the email.”
“Yes.”
“Are they with you?”
“Outside my room.”
“Then don’t say my location.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
Another good answer.
“Why did you draft my incapacity papers before the explosion?”
Silence.
“I drafted templates.”
“With my name.”
“Yes.”
“Before I was injured.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Julian requested emergency founder-continuity planning.”
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
Before the explosion.
“Reason?”
“He said your upcoming surgery might leave you temporarily unavailable.”
My stomach tightened.
“I had no surgery scheduled.”
“I know that now.”
“When did you know?”
“The morning after the explosion.”
“Yet you processed the document.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Miriam’s voice became quiet.
“Because Cassandra had something on me.”
I almost laughed.
Every conspirator eventually became someone else’s victim.
“What?”
“Not over the phone.”
“Then give me a reason to come.”
“She did not create the Vale Biomedical Continuity Trust.”
I sat down.
“You are trustee.”
“Yes.”
“Who created it?”
“Someone using Cassandra’s identity.”
That changed things again.
“Forged?”
“Partially.”
“What does that mean?”
“The trust formation is real. Cassandra signed one document. She did not sign the beneficiary schedule.”
“Who did?”
“Her electronic credentials.”
Evidence, not person.
“Beneficiary?”
“I cannot disclose it remotely.”
“Why?”
“Because the schedule contains information somebody has already killed to keep hidden.”
I stopped breathing.
“Who died?”
Silence.
“Miriam.”
“Dr. Samuel Reed.”
I knew him.
Aurum toxicology consultant.
He died seven months earlier.
Car accident.
I had sent flowers to his wife.
“Samuel’s death was an accident.”
“That is what the report says.”
“What do you know?”
“He contacted me forty-eight hours before he died.”
“About?”
“Batch 7.”
My pulse changed.
Batch 7 had supposedly been developed only recently.
“How could he contact you about Batch 7 seven months ago?”
“Because Batch 7 is not seven weeks old.”
My entire understanding shifted.
HartVale’s records showed Batch 7 as a recent manufacturing optimization.
Miriam continued.
“Cassandra and Julian began the alternate Aurum program almost a year ago.”
I gripped the phone.
“Julian said six weeks.”
“He lied.”
Not shocking anymore.
“What did Samuel find?”
“A toxicity signature.”
“Cytokine instability?”
“More than that.”
“What?”
“A genetic persistence marker.”
That made no sense.
Aurum was designed to switch off after regeneration.
Persistent activity meant modified tissue could continue behaving unpredictably.
Cancer risk.
Autoimmune risk.
Long-term unknowns.
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“He tried.”
“I never heard from him.”
“His email was intercepted.”
“By who?”
“Miriam hesitated.”
“I don’t know.”
“Evidence first.”
“Yes.”
The phrase surprised her.
I continued.
“What proof do you have?”
“His original report.”
My breath stopped.
“Where?”
“With me.”
“Why?”
“He sent it by courier.”
“Why you?”
“Because he believed HartVale email was compromised.”
“And you hid it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Silence.
“Cassandra threatened you?”
“She showed me a recording.”
“Of what?”
“My daughter.”
I stopped.
Miriam had a daughter in college.
I knew almost nothing else.
“What recording?”
“She had been arrested for possession at a party.”
Miriam’s voice tightened.
“Charges were dismissed. Cassandra obtained security footage and threatened to send it to my daughter’s scholarship committee with a false narrative attached.”
Cruel.
Plausible.
Not enough to justify everything Miriam did.
“You traded my company for your daughter’s reputation.”
“I helped process papers.”
“You helped remove my authority.”
“Yes.”
I appreciated the lack of excuse.
“Why change sides now?”
“Because Cassandra no longer controls the trust.”
My skin prickled.
“Who does?”
“Technically, I do.”
“Then?”
“Someone amended the trustee instructions yesterday.”
“Who?”
“Founder authorization.”
“Mine?”
“Yes.”
Of course.
Another fake Elena Hart instruction.
“What did it say?”
“If Elena Hart dies or is declared permanently incapacitated, trustee must release all Aurum rights to the named beneficiary.”
My mouth went dry.
“And if I live?”
“The trust remains frozen.”
That explained something.
Cassandra had said I should have died.
If I died, the trust transferred.
If I lived, nobody fully controlled Aurum.
“Who benefits from my death?”
Miriam whispered:
“That is what I need to show you in person.”
Then the line crackled.
She inhaled sharply.
“What?”
Someone knocked on her door.
“Miriam?”
No answer.
Another knock.
She whispered:
“I didn’t tell anyone I was here.”
“Where are you?”
Silence.
I regretted agreeing not to know.
Then a man’s voice came faintly through her phone.
“Miriam Cross?”
She did not answer.
The man continued:
“Delivery from HartVale.”
Miriam whispered to me:
“HartVale does not know this address.”
The call disconnected.
I immediately tried again.
No answer.
Then my phone announced another message from Miriam.
Not text.
A photograph.
A sealed toxicology report.
And beneath it, a handwritten note from Samuel Reed:
ELENA — IF YOU SEE THIS, BATCH 7 WAS DESIGNED FOR A HUMAN SUBJECT BEFORE YOU APPROVED ANY HUMAN USE.
Someone had already tested Aurum illegally.
May you like
And Cassandra and Julian had been hiding it for almost a year.
📖 Discover who received the secret Aurum treatment before any approved human trial—and why the subject’s identity connected directly to Julian in CHAPTER 9. 👇
