Daniel stood at the doorway, older than in the photograph but unmistakably the same. His eyes—grey like a brewing storm—met Maya's with a weight that shook something loose inside her.
"Maya," he said gently.
She didn't know whether to run or fall into his arms. Instead, she nodded stiffly. "We need to talk."
Grace stood in the background, pale and wringing her hands. "You remember him?" she asked.
"Not everything," Maya admitted, "but enough."
They sat in the sunroom. Daniel glanced around, his expression bittersweet. "I remember hiding here with you. You used to draw on the windows with soap just to make me laugh."
Maya bit back a sudden ache in her throat. "Why did you leave?"
Daniel sighed. "Because I had to keep you safe. After your father vanished… they came for you next. I made a choice to disappear so they wouldn't find you. Grace helped."
"Who are they?" Maya demanded, her voice sharp now.
Daniel hesitated. "People who knew what your father discovered. What he was trying to expose. He wasn't just a professor. He was a whistleblower."
Maya blinked. "Of what?"
Daniel pulled a folded page from his coat pocket—an old document, charred at the edges, with strange symbols and a name circled in red ink: Project Harrowgate.
"This is what your father was investigating," he said. "He believed they were using psychological experiments on vulnerable people—trying to manipulate memory, identity, even talent. That key in your sketchbook? You were part of it."
Maya stared, stunned. "You think… my talent was engineered?"
"No," he said firmly. "It was awakened. And now they know you're remembering."
Outside, a shadow moved across the lawn.
Daniel tensed. "They're watching again."
Maya stood, defiant now. "Then let them. I won't hide anymore."