Chapter 4 - The Public Disclosure
The glare of the television lights was blinding. The lobby of Sterling Tower was packed wall-to-wall with reporters, camera crews, and curious onlookers from the financial district. The air hummed with the electric collective energy of a major media scandal.
I stood behind the podium, my tailored black suit immaculate, my hands resting flat against the acrylic surface. Behind me, sitting on a small bench under the watchful eyes of Frank and five security officers, were Lucas and Noah. They were dressed in matching gray sweaters, holding hands, looking out at the sea of flashes with a mixture of awe and nervousness.
"Mr. Sterling!" a reporter from the New York Times shouted over the din. "Is it true that Apex Cryo-Genetics has filed a federal lawsuit claiming custody of these children? Are they clones?"
"They are not clones," I said, my voice carrying cleanly through the high-powered sound system. The room fell into an immediate, breathless silence. "They are my sons. Seven years ago, through a combination of corporate espionage, medical fraud, and genetic theft, Apex Cryo-Genetics used my biological material—obtained under the guise of an experimental medical trial following my near-fatal accident—to create these two boys."
The camera shutters fired like a volley of machine-gun fire.
"Apex claims that because their scientists managed the embryonic development within a proprietary laboratory environment, the human beings sitting behind me are corporate assets," I continued, my gaze locking directly into the lens of the main network camera. I knew Evelyn Vance was watching somewhere. "They have filed an injunction to remove them from my care, to place them back into an isolation facility for 'cellular testing'."
I paused, letting the weight of the words hang in the air.
"I built Sterling Industries on the principle that technology should protect families, not dissect them," I said, my voice dropping into a dangerous, low register. "Today, I am announcing that Sterling Industries is pivoting its entire legal and financial weight toward a singular objective. We are filing a multi-billion-dollar countersuit against Apex and its parent conglomerate for human trafficking, medical battery, and illegal genetic experimentation. If Apex wants a war over the definition of humanity, they can have it. But they will fight it in the light of day, not behind the walls of a private clinic."
"And what about Grace Avery?" a voice called out from the back of the press pool.
My heart skipped. A reporter near the revolving doors moved aside, revealing a man wearing a dark trench coat. He wasn't holding a microphone or a notepad. He held a high-grade digital camera, but his eyes were fixed on the twins.
"We have received reports," the man said, his voice loud enough to carry across the room, "that Miss Avery was involved in a fatal vehicle collision on the New York State Thruway early this morning while fleeing Apex security. Do you have a comment on her condition, Mr. Sterling?"
The room exploded into a frenzy of shouting. Behind me, I heard Noah let out a small, sharp cry.
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I didn't look at the reporters. My eyes slammed into the trench-coated man, who was already turning back toward the revolving doors, blending into the crowd of onlookers outside. He wasn't a journalist. He was an operative.
"Frank! Lock the perimeter!" I yelled, abandoning the podium and sprinting toward the bench where Lucas and Noah were now crying, their small arms wrapping around each other as the media chaos swarmed around them like a pack of wolves.
