A single beam of afternoon sun slanted through the dusty windows of the abandoned lakeside villa, illuminating motes that danced like specters in the still air. Lucien Shen led Evelyn Lin—now Dr. Evelyn Larkin—through the front hall, her hand clasped loosely in his. Mira slept soundly in a sling at his back, her soft breaths the only sound in the hush.
“This place…” Evelyn’s voice wavered. “I never thought I’d see it again.”
Lucien’s jaw clenched. “It’s been emptied of the System’s presence, but nothing erases the past.” He halted before a pair of French doors, their glass panes cracked by years of storm and conflict. “In here.”
Evelyn nodded, swallowing hard. Together they pushed open the doors, stepping into the heart of the villa—the great drawing room where Evelyn had first faced the “hate‑level” meter, and where she’d fought for every ounce of freedom.