Chapter 15

Project B

Elias had wanted nothing more than to spend the entire afternoon with Lena — to hold her in the sunlit sanctuary he had built for her, to watch the way her brilliant mind absorbed knowledge like sunlight on still water, to lose himself in the quiet warmth of her presence and the soft curves of her body. But duty, as always, demanded its price.

At precisely 2:30 p.m., he entered his most protected study, the one with walls lined in quantum-encrypted shielding where no signal entered or escaped without his permission. The Vice President of the United States appeared on the main holographic display, flanked by two shadowed advisors whose faces remained deliberately obscured.

“Dr. Voss,” the Vice President greeted, his voice carrying the polished weight of Washington. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything too important.”

Elias offered a faint, courteous smile as he settled into his chair.

“Nothing is more important than the future we are building together, Mr. Vice President.”

Project B had been launched in complete secrecy just four months earlier. To the outside world, it did not exist. In truth, it was Elias’s most ambitious vision yet — a long-term breeding and genetic modification program housed deep within the estate’s most restricted levels. Selected subjects, primarily women serving death row or life sentences, had been chosen as vessels. Through advanced CRISPR techniques, precision artificial insemination using carefully curated genetic material, and continuous embryonic optimization, Elias was creating what he privately called the first generation of perfected humans.

Roger Bennett stood silently in the corner of the room, tall and impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit. For nearly ten years he had served Elias Voss with unwavering loyalty, orchestrating security protocols more sophisticated than those of any government agency. He had overseen the discreet transport of subjects, the monitoring of the underground facilities, and the ironclad protection of every layer of Project B. Yet as the Vice President leaned forward with barely concealed hunger, a quiet conflict stirred deep within Roger’s chest.

These women forfeited their freedom through their crimes, he reminded himself, but turning their bodies into instruments for a grand design ... is this justice, or merely another form of dominion? He had seen the sterile rooms where they slept in induced states, their wombs carrying futures they would never know. The ethical weight pressed on him more heavily with each passing month. Elias had lifted his own family from poverty, secured his sister’s education, and ensured his aging parents lived with dignity. Loyalty like that was not easily questioned. Still, the quiet voice in Roger’s mind wondered whether the price of such loyalty was too steep — whether creating life through coercion, no matter how “scientifically necessary,” crossed a line even he could not fully justify.

As the Vice President spoke of timelines and political cover, Roger stepped forward slightly, his British voice calm and measured.

“Mr. Vice President, our security protocols for Project B are impenetrable. No external leaks have been detected. However, I recommend increasing the frequency of biometric scans on the subjects. We cannot afford even the smallest deviation.”

Elias gave Roger a subtle nod of approval. The Vice President smiled thinly.

“Your discretion is appreciated, Mr. Bennett. Our mutual friends are counting on this.”

The meeting stretched until nearly eight in the evening, covering funding channels, genetic milestones, and contingency plans. Roger remained present throughout, offering occasional insights while the internal conflict simmered beneath his composed exterior. Elias remained sharp, eloquent, and utterly in command, revealing only what was necessary.

When the call finally ended, Roger turned to Elias, his expression thoughtful.

“Sir, if I may ... this project is unlike anything we’ve undertaken before. The scale, the long-term implications ... are you certain the Vice President’s administration can be trusted to maintain absolute silence?”

Elias stood, straightening his shirt with precise movements.

“They need what we are creating more than they fear it, Roger. And fear is a powerful motivator. Continue monitoring every channel. I want daily reports.”

Roger bowed his head slightly.

“Of course, sir.”

As he left the room, the quiet conflict lingered. He had built an empire of loyalty around Elias Voss — a man who could be extraordinarily generous yet demanded absolute obedience. Roger had watched Lena’s arrival and transformation with his own eyes, seen the depth of Elias’s obsession. He did not know whether to feel pity for her or admiration for the vision that had consumed his employer for so long.

All of this — the power, the science, the silent empire — existed for a single reason.

For Lena.

For the future Elias intended to give her. For the children they would one day create together, born not of chance but of deliberate, extraordinary design. The control.

Elias walked toward the residence wing with one quiet, burning thought: it was time to return to his love.

Questions Over Dinner

Elias entered the private library just after 8:30 p.m. The soft golden light cast a warm, gentle halo around Lena where she sat curled in the emerald velvet chaise, a medical textbook open across her knees. She looked truly like an angel. His own angel. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps, her blue eyes tired but brightening faintly at the sight of him.

The moment she saw him, a storm of contradictions swept through her — her body responding instinctively, warmly, even as her mind pulled sharply in the opposite direction. The voices she had heard drifting from the restricted wing were still carved into her memory, quiet and relentless.

Elias had not seen her for several long hours, and the absence had left a dull, persistent ache in his chest. The moment her eyes met his, something deep and possessive surged through him — and something tender alongside it.

Without a word, he crossed the room in long, unhurried strides, drew her gently to her feet, and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her deeply, hungrily — his hands moving over her with familiar certainty, sliding down the curve of her waist, cupping the soft warmth of her bottom through the fabric of her dress, pressing her closer as though reassuring himself she was still entirely his. When he finally lifted his head, he looked down at her with that quiet, knowing smile — the one that was equal parts warmth and command.

“Did you eat your lunch today, little girl?” he asked, his tone light but edged with gentle expectation and reprimanding.

Lena’s heart sank. She knew immediately she was in trouble. Heat rose in her cheeks as her gaze dropped, the weight of his question settling between them like a quiet verdict. “At least that meant Roger hadn’t informed his employer of her whereabouts that evening. Lena sighed in relief inwardly.

“You didnt.” He confirmed as he slapped her bottom lightly. He needed to address her disobedience but she needed to eat first.

“Dinner is ready, my love. We will talk about your misbehaviour later. “ He smoothed a strand of hair from her face. “ You need to eat now.” He extended his hand.