Chapter 11 - MY FATHER
David Collins was found inside a private research farm in Virginia.
Jonathan had moved him before federal agents arrived.
But David left a blood-marked message beneath a table:
OMAHA AIR MUSEUM.
The location held meaning from my childhood. My father once promised to take me there.
Federal teams surrounded the museum after closing.
Jonathan stood beneath a suspended bomber aircraft with David beside him.
My father looked older, thin, and physically weak.
But alive.
Jonathan demanded William’s original journal and access to Lucas’s genetic profile.
He wanted to prove his branch of the Vale family created the cure Aaron’s family stole.
Every man still sought credit.
David looked at the camera.
“Anna, do not trade the child.”
Jonathan struck him.
Not brutally.
Precisely enough to demonstrate control.
I remained at the command center with Rebecca and Hayes.
No private heroics.
No bringing Lucas.
Agents used the delay to enter through maintenance tunnels.
David pulled a fire alarm.
Museum lights flashed.
Jonathan tried to escape with the journal decoy.
He was captured.
My father entered medical care.
Our reunion occurred later.
He remembered me as a six-year-old.
I remembered almost nothing beyond a voice and a red baseball cap.
He apologized for failing to return.
I asked whether he chose the program.
“At first.”
He joined a fertility study for money.
Then discovered the samples were used without consent.
When he tried to leave, William threatened my mother.
David disappeared to protect us.
Another person choosing absence without telling the child.
He accepted my anger.
That helped.
The final collection plan targeted Lucas’s first birthday, not his birth. Repeated samples would track development.
We had time.
The network had fewer places to hide.
Jonathan’s records identified remaining facilities.
Children were recovered.
Adults regained names.
Not everyone wanted biological reunion.
Some wanted records only.
The survivor council created multiple pathways.
Then William Mitchell died under federal medical supervision.
His body was independently verified.
No false death.
His final recorded statement admitted creating the first silver cup as a voluntary home-monitoring device.
Sylvia transformed it into a collection tool.
Samuel added drug delivery.
Jonathan added biometric storage.
Aaron used it inside marriage.
Each generation expanded the violation while claiming to preserve the original purpose.
The cup became evidence in court.
Then forensic technicians found a voice recorder inside its rim.
The final family dinner before my clinic appointment had been recorded.
Aaron said, “If Dose Seven fails, we take the baby at thirty-two weeks.”
Sylvia answered, “Anna will sign anything after the bleeding starts.”
A third voice said, “She already signed.”
My voice.
Calm.
Clear.
May you like
I had no memory of saying it.
The recording suggested I knew about the program.
