Chapter 18 - The Supervisor“Who the hell are you?” Dad demanded, stepping forward and leveling the iron pipe at the man’s chest.
The man didn't flinch. He didn't even look at the weapon; his eyes remained fixed on Dad with a clinical, detached curiosity, exactly like Julian’s gaze across the metal table in the holding room.
“My name is Agent Marcus Vance,” the man said, offering a polite, chilling nod. “And for the record, Julian isn't my son—he’s my project.”
My blood ran cold. The pieces clicked together with the force of a physical blow. Julian hadn't been adopted by accident; he had been placed in our family as part of a long-term behavioral study managed directly by a surviving network of Oakridge researchers who continued their work underground after the state shut the facility down.
“You planted him in our house,” I said, stepping past Dad, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. “You used our family as a laboratory to test how far a sociopath could push a suburban household before it collapsed.”
“Planted is such an ugly, unscientific word,” Marcus Vance said, casually slipping his hands into his coat pockets. “We didn't force your parents to adopt him. We simply curated the application pool, cleared his background checks, and waited for a family desperate enough for a ‘responsible eldest son’ to take the bait.”
“He tortured our sister!” Dad shouted, taking a violent step forward and grabbing Marcus by the lapel of his trench coat, shoving him hard against the reinforced glass of Cell 409. “He locked her in a bathroom for three years! He nearly burned our house to the ground!”
Marcus didn't resist. He just smiled—that thin, infuriating smile that looked so much like Julian’s it made my stomach turn.
“And yet, look at you now,” Marcus whispered, staring straight into Dad’s eyes. “You’re here, aren't you? You didn't give up, you didn't fall apart, and your family is stronger, tighter, and more defensive than it has ever been in its entire history. Julian didn't destroy your family, Mr. Vance. He forged it.”
Dad’s grip on Marcus’s jacket trembled. For a second, I thought he was going to swing the iron pipe. The temptation was right there—the ultimate justification to smash the entire system that had manipulated our lives for a decade.
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“He’s going away for the rest of his life,” I said, my voice dead and steady. “And you’re going down with him.”
Marcus chuckled softly—a dry, empty sound that echoed off the damp concrete walls. “Going away? Julian isn't going to a prison, Leo. He’s already been transferred to a federal psychiatric research facility under our direct supervision. The trial is being sealed for national security reasons. You’ll never see him in a courtroom, and his name will never appear on a public docket again.”
