EVELYN — THE RESURRECTION
The air in the lab was sterile and cold thick with the hum of machines and the faint metallic scent of blood.
White light reflected off glass walls, casting sharp patterns across the floor. Beyond them, tubes of blue liquid pulsed faintly, each one holding something half-formed something alive.
Evelyn Whitford stood at the center of it all, her reflection fractured in the mirrored glass before her.
They had buried her once.
The world had declared her dead, her name erased from every database, her projects dismantled. But like all great creations, she had built a fail-safe a shadow plan encoded into the very foundation of Project Eden.
Her own survival had been part of the design.
The scars that lined her ribs ached faintly, reminders of the night Sebastian Kane had left her to die in the fire. But she was not the same woman who had begged him to understand her vision.
That woman was gone.
Now there was only purpose.
