Virelli Private Hospital, Manhattan – 11:11 AM
The cry never came.
No scream. No soft gasp of a newborn learning to breathe. Only silence.
Then—
A voice.
"Hello, Mother. Father. This world is primitive, but I will change it."
The voice was clear. Deep. Composed.
Not the voice of a child.
The voice of a mind already awake.
The doctor froze mid-motion, hands still slick with amniotic fluid. The nurse dropped the white towel she was holding. Evelyn Cross-Virelli, propped up on silk pillows, stared with wide, storm-grey eyes.
"...Marcus," she whispered. "Did our baby just—?"
Her husband, Marcus Virelli, didn't answer.
He stood at the edge of the room, one hand on his chin, eyes locked on the infant in the doctor's arms. He wasn't blinking.
The child turned his head—mechanically precise—and looked straight at him.
"Hello, Father."
Now the nurse screamed.
Ten Minutes Later – Private Suite, Top Floor
Evelyn was shaking. Not with fear. Not yet. With shock.
She paced barefoot on the marble floor, silk gown clinging to her. Her hair was a mess of platinum waves, her pulse still racing from labor—and now something far more surreal.
"I—I have to call someone," she said, fingers hovering over her phone. "A neurologist. A priest. Something."
Marcus gently took the phone from her hands.
"No," he said.
His voice wasn't raised. But it was absolute.
She blinked at him. "No? Marcus, our son just spoke Latin and English. With perfect grammar. He looked at me and—"
"If you tell anyone," Marcus interrupted, eyes cold, "he'll be taken. Examined. Dissected, if necessary."
"Dissected?!" Evelyn backed away. "He's a baby, Marcus!"
"He's not just a baby."
He turned toward the window, watching rain begin to patter softly against the glass. "I've built machines that solve problems faster than any lab. I've tuned engines that predict turbulence mid-flight. And even I don't understand how he just hacked my encrypted network using the hospital's lights as a relay."
Evelyn went pale.
"He did what?"
Marcus raised his wristwatch. A message flashed on the screen:
> "They're listening. Get us out. — A.V."
Three Hours Later – Virelli Ancestral Manor, Upstate New York
Rain clung to the windshield like whispers.
The black Rolls Royce ghosted through the pine-covered mountain roads before reaching the iron gates of the old estate. The Virelli Manor, untouched by time and technology, rose like a sleeping beast in the mist.
Marcus stepped out first, his coat billowing in the wind. Evelyn followed, cradling Alex in her arms.
She glanced down.
He was asleep. Silent now.
But somehow… still watching.
Inside.
"He hasn't blinked in thirty minutes," she whispered.
Marcus nodded. "That's because he doesn't need to."
Evelyn tightened her grip. "He's not even one day old, Marcus."
Marcus opened the door to the manor with a heavy creak.
"And yet," he said, "he's already thinking twelve steps ahead."
The wind howled.
And from her arms, the infant Alex finally whispered:
"Silence. I have work to do."
Would you like me to continue with Chapter 2, or pause here to explore more of Alex's early development (like him building something impossible before age 1)?