CHAPTER 3 – The Prisoner Who Refused to Look Up
The red emergency lights bathed the warehouse in blood-colored shadows.
Every tactical officer instinctively turned their rifles toward the commander.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Only the little boy remained perfectly calm.
The computerized voice echoed again.
"Project Heir confirmed."
"Priority Level: Absolute."
The commander slowly raised both hands.
"You don't understand," he said. "I've spent eight years trying to protect him."
A captain stepped forward.
"Then explain why the official records say the child died the night your wife disappeared."
The commander's lips trembled.
Before he could answer...
The little boy quietly pointed toward the last row of prisoners.
"There."
Everyone turned.
A thin, gray-haired prisoner remained on his knees with his head lowered.
Unlike the others, he hadn't looked at the boy even once.
One guard shouted, "Stand up!"
No response.
Another soldier struck him with the butt of a rifle.
Still nothing.
The commander frowned.
"Bring him here."
As two soldiers grabbed the prisoner, something slipped from beneath his torn prison uniform.
An old family photograph.
The little boy gasped.
He ran forward and picked it up with trembling hands.
In the faded picture, a smiling young soldier stood beside a pregnant woman.
In her arms...
Was a newborn baby wrapped in a blue blanket.
The baby's tiny wrist carried a silver bracelet engraved with two words.
Project Heir.
The little boy looked at his own wrist.
Hidden beneath his sleeve...
He wore the exact same bracelet.
His voice cracked.
"I've seen this picture before..."
The old prisoner finally lifted his head.
Tears streamed down his weathered face.
"I kept that photo every single day..."
"...because I knew one day my son would come looking for me."
The commander staggered backward.
His face turned ghostly pale.
"No..."
"That's impossible."
"The real father was executed eight years ago."
The old prisoner slowly smiled.
"That's what they wanted you to believe."
Then he turned to the little boy and whispered the words that shattered everything.
"They didn't steal your childhood..."
"They stole your identity."
At that exact moment, the warehouse doors exploded inward.
A convoy of black armored vehicles surrounded the building.
Dozens of masked operatives stormed inside.
Their leader removed his helmet...
Looked directly at the little boy...
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And gave an order that terrified everyone.
"Kill anyone who gets between me... and my son."
