Chapter 2 - The Language of a ChildLily skipped across the room, her small sneakers squeaking softly against the polished oak floor. She didn't look like an intruder; she looked like a child who had found her favorite person and decided to share an important secret.
She climbed onto the edge of the leather armchair, right beside Dominic’s leg.
Dominic looked down, a rare, genuine softness touching his stern features. He reached out and gently patted her head.
Lily didn’t sign hello today.
Instead, her small brows furrowed together in intense concentration. She pointed directly at Dominic’s left ear.
Then she mimicked Dr. Hale’s exact posture—holding an imaginary dropper, tilting her hand precisely the way the doctor always did, and pantomiming pouring something invisible into her own ear.
Dominic watched, mildly amused. Kids notice everything, he thought.
Then Lily did it again.
She poured the imaginary liquid. But this time, she made a fierce, unhappy face, shook her head violently, and tapped her ear twice before holding up one tiny finger, pointing at the doctor’s retreating footsteps down the hall.
Dominic’s amusement faltered. His heart gave a strange, heavy thud against his ribs.
What are you trying to tell me, little one? Dominic signed slowly, using the basic sign language they had practiced together.
Lily shook her head, hopped down from the chair, and darted under the edge of the velvet fringe. A moment later, she emerged holding something small and gleaming in her palm.
She walked over and dropped it right into Dominic’s hand.
It was a small, heavy brass button.
Dominic turned it over in his palm. Stamped into its oxidized face were two crossed hammers. Beneath them were three letters: CRD.
Dominic stared at the button.
His mind raced backward through years of security reports, architectural layouts, and dark memories. Those weren't ordinary buttons. They were the specialized insignia of Calvin R. Donovan, the original crest of the pharmaceutical lab Dr. Hale had owned before selling it out decades ago—a lab specializing in neuro-suppressive sedatives and long-term chemical agents.
Why would that button be under the armchair?
And why did Lily mimic the exact motion of drops being administered right after the doctor left?
Dominic’s breathing stopped. A terrifying, ice-cold realization washed over him.
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The explosion hadn't destroyed his hearing permanently.
Something else was keeping the silence alive.
