Adrian pulled one free and opened it on the table, his anger giving way to something else as his eyes fixed on the pages, the sharpness of his gaze deepening with each line. The handwriting was steady, the margins filled with curling diagrams, research of a kind entirely new to him, filled with terms and sequences he had never heard before, knowledge that pressed past the boundaries of his understanding yet spoke directly to his instincts.

  A phrase surfaced throughout the notes, the ink pressed so hard it nearly scored the paper: Stabilizer gene of the Vale.

  Beneath it stretched diagrams of twisted strands and annotations on blood inheritance, lines probing suppression, compatibility, and transfer, and at the bottom of the page a red stamp bled against the parchment, a crown wound with ivy, its shape echoing through his memory, for he had seen it carved into plaques and stonework within the estate, an emblem belonging to the academy that had bound itself to his family for a thousand years. He turned the page, and there it was—another phrase, circled with the same relentless hand, heavier even than the last: Fairy gene.

  Adrian bent over the page, his focus narrowing until the world outside dissolved, time itself stilled around him as he traced the lines of research, absorbing each word as if nothing else existed. Then he reached the end, only to find a jagged edge, the paper torn away. Whole sections of the work were missing, ripped clean from the binding.

  His chest tightened. He looked back to the drawer, reaching quickly for the other bundles, his small hands fumbling now with urgency, searching for any surviving piece that might explain what had been taken.

  Then, a shadow fell over him. Heavy. Cold.

  Before he could turn, a strong grasp wrenched the book from his hands. Adrian spun around, heart jolting, and found Lucian towering above him, his face hard with fury.

  “Leave this room. Now.” The command cut like iron, his voice echoing through the vaulted space.

  Adrian froze, then backed away, the weight of the journal already gone from his grasp, his father’s shadow filling every corner of the library. The door slammed shut behind him.

  He never entered again. But once, not long after, he glimpsed Lucian in the courtyard at night, the glow of fire staining his face, pages curling to ash in the brazier at his side. The flames clawed upward, devouring ink and paper, the smell of scorched leather and parchment carrying on the wind. For a heartbeat, Adrian thought he heard it scream, the knowledge itself burning, the words lost forever in the crackle of fire. His father’s eyes were fixed on the blaze, hard and unblinking, as though nothing in the world existed beyond its destruction.

  Adrian had watched from the shadows until the last page crumbled, that image burnt into him as deeply as the ashes ground into the stone.

  ?

  The Vale Estate’s private study was built to intimidate. Dark mahogany walls, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with rare medical manuscripts, and a vast glass window overlooking the meticulously sculpted gardens. Every inch of the room radiated control.

  Adrian sat at the head of the conference table, hands loosely folded. He had been preparing for this moment for seven years.

  "I’ll be leaving the house tomorrow."

  A single sentence, spoken with certainty.

  Selene stiffened, but it was Lucian who responded first.

  "You will do no such thing."

  His father’s voice was sharp, unyielding, the kind that had crushed boardrooms and shattered opposition. But Adrian was completely unfazed.

  "I’ve already arranged everything. My independent research division is fully operational, and I will be starting my studies at Vermillion."

  Silence.

  Then—

  A low, humorless chuckle.

  Lucian’s fingers tapped once against the polished table, his expression an eerie mask of composure. But the tension in the air was suffocating.

  "Vermillion?" He let the name hang between them. "You—of all people—want to waste time sitting in a classroom?"

  Selene’s voice was softer, but no less cutting. "Adrian, this is beneath you."

  “Is it?” Adrian asked, with no real interest in the answer.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  "You could walk into that university today and be seated at its highest faculty board. You could lead its research divisions and reshape the entire field of biotechnology—" Lucian’s voice sharpened. "And yet, you choose to sit among children?"

  Adrian leaned back, not bothering to answer directly. “I choose to be exactly where I need to be.”

  Lucian stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. A storm, barely contained.

  "You are the heir to the Vale empire. You will not abandon your responsibilities for some—" his voice dropped, dangerously quiet, "—delusional idea of independence."

  Adrian met his father’s glare with unshaken calm.

  "Responsibilities?" His fingers tapped idly against the table. "You mean the ones I never agreed to?"

  Selene frowned. "Adrian, we built this for you. Your entire life has been—"

  "Planned out without my consent," Adrian interrupted smoothly. "Since the day I was born."

  Lucian slammed a palm against the table. The first crack in his control.

  "Everything you have—everything you are—is because of us!"

  Adrian’s lips curled slightly.

  "You mean despite you."

  Lucian’s eyes flashed with something dangerously close to rage. "You are my son—"

  "No." Adrian stood, slow and deliberate.

  For the first time, Lucian Vale looked up at him.

  "I am Adrian Vale." His voice was even, but there was a finality in it that could not be undone.

  "Not your project. Not your legacy. Not your pawn."

  Silence.

  Selene’s lips parted slightly—there was something in her eyes, unreadable. Lucian, however, was steel and fire and fury.

  "You will regret this."

  "You’ve been saying that since I was nine." Adrian replied, his face set as still and cold as carved stone.

  And with that, he turned and walked away.

  ?

  The rain pounded against the windows, the sound filling the heavy silence between them. Lucian Vale stood rigid behind his desk, fingers gripping the edge as he stared at the document glowing on his tablet.

  Adrian’s acceptance letter.

  "This is unacceptable." His voice was ice, calm on the surface but razor-sharp underneath. "He should have never been allowed to set foot in that university."

  Selene sat in the leather chair opposite from him, arms crossed. Unlike Lucian, she was composed, but her eyes held a deep intensity.

  "You should have stopped it," Lucian pressed, his fury barely restrained. "Vermillion belongs to us. A single word from me—"

  "And what then?" Selene interrupted smoothly. "Would you drag him back here in chains?"

  Lucian’s jaw tightened. "He is our heir, Selene. Not some aimless academic playing scientist in a university lab. His place is here."

  Selene exhaled, slow and measured. "He’s been planning this since he was nine, Lucian. Did you really think you could keep him caged forever?"

  "I could have," Lucian snapped. "I should have."

  "Then why didn’t you?"

  Lucian’s eyes burnt with frustration. He had tried. He had pulled strings, sent warnings, and buried the application under endless bureaucracy. And yet, somehow, Adrian had slipped through.

  Because of her.

  "You interfered," he said, voice dangerously low.

  Selene didn’t deny it. "I gave him the space you never would. And you should be grateful."

  "Grateful?" Lucian let out a sharp laugh, devoid of humor. "He’s running, Selene. From responsibility. From his duty. And you let him."

  Selene leaned forward, eyes locked onto his. "If you shut him down now, you will lose him forever. Not just as a son, but as your heir."

  Lucian scoffed. "He is not leaving this family."

  "Then stop treating him like a prisoner."

  The room was suffocating with tension.

  Lucian wanted to argue, wanted to tell her that Adrian was throwing away everything for a childish obsession. But deep down, he knew Selene was right—Adrian wasn’t a child anymore. And brute force wouldn’t bring him back.

  Lucian inhaled sharply, composing himself. "He won’t be free of us," he said coldly. "He may think he’s won, but I will not let him slip away."

  Selene didn’t react, but he knew she understood.

  The next morning, Adrian’s acceptance was left untouched. But new names were added to Vermillion’s faculty—handpicked by Lucian, tasked with watching his every move.

  ?

  Adrian’s eyes drifted to the cabin display, the glowing line tracing the jet’s route across the map. The marker slid over a stretch of countryside he knew too well—the ridges of the hills, the bend of the river, the borders etched into his memory long before he ever left. The flight was passing over the Vale estate, and with that recognition the memory stirred, sharp and merciless, rising as vividly as if it had happened only yesterday.

  His destination: a private medical facility nestled in the alpine foothills of Switzerland—discreet, invitation-only, and known only to a select network of leading neurologists and researchers.

  Its pioneering treatments for cognitive and neurological disorders were underway, supported by strategic partnerships with prominent pharmaceutical firms and academic institutions.

  Switzerland was not chosen arbitrarily. Its globally respected healthcare system, coupled with a robust regulatory environment that balances innovation with ethical oversight, positioned it as a natural nexus for experimental research.

  Moreover, its political neutrality and longstanding tradition of scientific diplomacy provided a uniquely conducive environment for international collaboration—an essential factor for someone like Adrian, who required not only access to advanced clinical settings but also the freedom to engage across borders without constraint.

  Here, beyond the limitations of traditional laboratories, he could observe, test, and negotiate the kind of alliances that would shape the next phase of his research.

  The flight had been quiet, leaving Adrian alone with his thoughts.

  ?