“I’m calling my lawyer,” he said. “And a doctor. This ends today.”

Before he could dial, his phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number flashed on the screen.

We know you know.

Don’t involve authorities. We’ll discuss terms.

Below the text was a photo. Eloin sleeping in her bed, taken from above. The timestamp was from the night before.

Someone was watching them.

An hour later, Ariston sat in his office with his head of security, his lawyer—a sharp-eyed woman in her fifties—and both girls. Eloin sat curled into the corner of the leather couch. Sky sat so close their shoulders touched.

“Check every camera,” Ariston told security. “Every feed. Every device. Start with my daughter’s room.”

Within hours, they found them—tiny cameras hidden in air vents, light fixtures, even inside Eloin’s favorite teddy bear. Twelve cameras in total, all installed over the past few months.

Someone had been watching her suffer. Recording it. Studying it.

Ariston sat heavily in his chair.

“How did I not see this?” he whispered.

“You were busy,” Sky said simply.

He looked at her.

“You’re seven,” he said. “How did you see it?”

“Because I wasn’t busy,” she answered. “I just looked at her.”

His eyes filled with tears.

“That afternoon, we get an injunction,” the lawyer said. “But long-term, we need more. We need proof that what Calva did went beyond whatever you signed.”

Ariston opened his laptop with shaking hands. He dove into VLab’s secure servers, searching for anything tied to Project Seraphim.

He found a hidden folder.

Inside were daily logs written by Miss Calva.

He opened one file and went pale.

“The authorized protocol says ‘monitor stress responses,’” the lawyer said, reading over his shoulder. “But look at this.”

Ariston read aloud.

“‘Subject E.V. showed resistance today. Increased pain stimulus by forty percent to test compliance threshold. Subject broke after twelve minutes.’”

The room went silent.

“She was torturing her,” Ariston whispered. “Not monitoring—torturing.”

The lawyer’s jaw tightened.

“That’s our case,” she said. “She exceeded protocol. This is abuse disguised as research.”

“Can we have her arrested?” Ariston asked.

“We can press charges,” the lawyer said. “But first, we get a court order to remove whatever is in Eloin’s scalp. We need medical records and photographic evidence.”

When Ariston told Elo they were going to the doctor, she went white.

“Will it hurt?” she asked.