CEO loves me with all his soul.-Chapter 97. Jael

The lab was bathed in a cold, sterile light, the glow bouncing off sleek metal surfaces and glass containers filled with swirling, iridescent liquids. The air carried a faint metallic tang mixed with a burnt chemical stench. A man in a white lab coat stood near a table cluttered with test tubes, syringes, and charts covered in incomprehensible formulas. His back was to the room’s entrance, shoulders stiff as though he were waiting for something—or someone.

Jael Yilin stepped into the room, his every movement taut with restrained fury. His coat billowed behind him, and his usually composed face was a storm of anger and frustration. In his hand, a shattered test tube dripped viscous red fluid onto the white-tiled floor, leaving streaks that looked like trails of blood.

"Another failure," Jael muttered, the broken glass crunching in his grip as he approached the man in the lab coat. His voice was low and sharp, edged with venom. "Every experiment. Every calculated step. All of it for what? A string of meaningless failures!"

The man in the lab coat finally turned around, his face partially obscured by reflective glasses perched on his nose. A smirk danced across his thin lips, as if Jael’s anger was a mere inconvenience, a child throwing a tantrum in the presence of his superior. His hands, clad in pristine white gloves, held a clipboard with neat columns of data. He didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by Jael’s towering rage.

"You still don’t understand what’s important, Jael." The man’s voice was smooth, almost melodic, but it carried a sinister undertone that made the hair on Jael’s neck rise. "All your failures are irrelevant. You’re focusing on the wrong target."

Jael slammed the remains of the test tube onto the table, splinters of glass scattering across the surface. His dark eyes bore into the man in the lab coat, who remained unflinching, calm in the face of Jael’s outburst.

"Ethan is in a coma," Jael hissed, his voice now colder, quieter, and deadlier. "He’s the key to this entire operation. Without access to his body, without understanding the state of his brain, we can’t—"

"Stop." The man’s sharp interruption sliced through Jael’s words like a knife. He placed the clipboard down on the table and crossed his arms, leaning against the edge as though amused by the conversation. "You’re so blinded by your preconceived notions, Jael. Ethan Hudel is not the key. He was never the key. He’s just... what’s the word? Ah, yes—a stimulator. A tool. Nothing more."

Jael froze, confusion flickering across his features before giving way to suspicion. His hands clenched at his sides as he took a step closer. "What are you saying?"

The man in the lab coat chuckled, a sound that sent a chill down Jael’s spine. He pushed off the table and began pacing the room, his gloved hands gesturing dramatically as he spoke.

"Ethan Levistis was useful for one thing, and one thing only: his lineage. The offspring of an experimentally created human and a spiritually enhanced individual? That, my dear Jael, is the treasure we’ve been seeking. Ethan himself is disposable. A byproduct. But his children..." The man’s voice dipped into something darker, more sinister. "Now they are the real experimental bodies."

Jael’s breath caught, his mind reeling at the implications of the words. "His... children?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. "You’re saying this was never about Ethan at all?"

"Precisely." The man in the lab coat stopped pacing and turned to face Jael fully, his smirk widening into a grin that was almost predatory. "The twins, Seraphina and Aurelius, are the culmination of our efforts. Do you have any idea how rare it is to find such perfect genetic specimens? Their potential is limitless."

Jael’s hands trembled, though whether it was from anger or something else, he couldn’t tell. "And what about Jaya?" he demanded, his voice rising. "You said she was important. You told me her spiritual instability was crucial to the project, yet you put her into a coma—"

"Because Jaya failed," the man snapped, cutting Jael off again. His tone turned cold, devoid of the mocking amusement it had carried before. "Her memories couldn’t be erased. Her spirit was incompatible with the process. She became a liability."

"A liability?" Jael’s voice was incredulous now. "She’s in a coma because of your mistakes. And now you’re telling me all of that was meaningless?"

The man shrugged, unbothered by Jael’s accusations. "Not meaningless. Every failure is a step toward success. Jaya was a necessary sacrifice. Her inability to adapt revealed what we truly needed: a spiritually enhanced individual who could withstand the process. And it seems," he added, his smirk returning, "that Adrian Hudel was the answer we were searching for all along."

Jael’s fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. "Adrian?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "What does Adrian have to do with this?"

The man in the lab coat sighed, as though explaining something painfully obvious to a child. "Adrian is the perfect balance. Spiritually awakened, mentally resilient, and emotionally bonded to Ethan. He’s the key to controlling the twins, Jael. And that’s why we need you to bring them to us."

Jael took a step back, his mind racing. The room seemed to close in around him, the sterile light feeling harsher, the air thicker. He had always known that the organization’s goals were ambitious, even ruthless. But this? This was beyond anything he had imagined.

"You’re asking me to bring two children into this madness," he said, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. "They’re innocent—"

"Innocent?" The man’s laughter cut him off, sharp and mocking. "Don’t delude yourself, Jael. Those ’innocent’ children are the product of generations of experimentation, carefully engineered to be exactly what we need. Their innocence is irrelevant."

Jael’s gaze darkened, his jaw tightening as he fought to maintain his composure. "And what if I refuse?" he challenged, his voice cold.

The man in the lab coat tilted his head, his grin widening. "You won’t," he said simply. "Because you understand the importance of our work. And because you know that refusing me is... unwise."

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the room, broken only by the faint hum of machinery. Then Jael exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he turned away.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "I’ll do it. But this plan of yours better work. I’m not risking everything for another failure."

"It will work," the man said confidently. He stepped closer to Jael, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Bring me the twins, Jael. They’re the treasures we’ve been waiting for. And in the meantime... I’ll begin the next phase of our plan."

Jael turned to leave, his mind a chaotic swirl of anger, doubt, and fear. As he stepped out of the lab, the man in the lab coat watched him go, his smirk never wavering. He picked up the clipboard from the table and glanced at the data one last time before turning back to the rows of test tubes.

"Soon," he murmured to himself, a glint of anticipation in his eyes. "Very soon."

--

Jael entered his private laboratory, a place that felt more like a prison than a sanctuary. The sterile white walls and shelves stacked with vials and data disks seemed to mock him, reminding him of every compromise, every line he had crossed for the sake of his twisted purpose. The faint hum of machinery filled the silence, an unrelenting rhythm that matched the chaos in his head.

With a deep breath, he crossed the room and approached his desk, where a holo-screen flickered to life. The interface projected a series of encrypted files, each marked with a red symbol indicating restricted access. These were the files that contained the darkest secrets of the organization—secrets he had played a part in creating.

His fingers flew across the keyboard, bypassing layers of encryption with the ease of someone who had spent years perfecting his craft. One by one, the files opened, revealing a horrifying catalog of experiments, failures, and human suffering. Each document felt like a blade to his chest, a reminder of the lives destroyed in the name of progress.

Jael inserted a portable data chip into the terminal, his jaw tightening as he began copying the files. He wasn’t doing this to expose the organization—he knew that wouldn’t be possible in his current position. No, this was a contingency plan, a desperate attempt to leave behind a trail of breadcrumbs for someone, anyone, who might come across it in the future.

Someone who could do what he no longer had the strength to do.

As the files transferred, Jael moved to the drawers lining the far side of the room. He rifled through stacks of notes, formulas, and diagrams, his movements growing more frantic with every passing moment. Finally, his hand closed around a weathered notebook, its cover marked with faded symbols. He flipped it open, scanning its contents until his eyes landed on a specific formula—a formula he hadn’t looked at in years.

A bitter smile tugged at his lips as he stared at the page. It was the formula for stabilizing the cellular decay of experimental bodies. The very formula he had developed in the hopes of saving his elder brother, Jesper.

Jesper Yilin. The name brought a sharp pang to Jael’s chest. His elder brother had always been his guiding light, the one who had protected him from the shadows of their fractured family. Jesper had been strong, unyielding, the perfect heir to the Yilin family legacy. But that strength had come at a cost. The experiments conducted on Jesper as a child had left his body fragile, his lifespan shortened. Jael had spent his entire life trying to fix what had been broken, but in doing so, he had broken countless others.

For what? Jael thought bitterly. To preserve a family name that no longer mattered? To save a man who would hate me if he knew the lengths I’ve gone to?

He slammed the notebook shut, his breathing uneven. His gaze drifted to a photograph on his desk—an old picture of Jesper holding a much younger Jael on his shoulders, both of them laughing. The memory felt like a distant dream, a relic from a time before everything had gone wrong.

"The Yilin family..." Jael murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It will be truly gone if something happens to the twins."

Seraphina and Aurelius. The twins were the only ones who carried the blood of the Yilin family now. Adrian, their father, was the sole inheritor of the family’s spiritual legacy, the only one who had awakened the abilities that had been dormant in their bloodline for generations. And now his children seemed to have inherited the same gifts, gifts the organization coveted.

Jael’s hands clenched into fists. He had done so much to protect his brother, to preserve the Yilin family, but his actions had only endangered its future. Adrian and the twins were now targets because of him, because of the choices he had made.

"I don’t deserve forgiveness," he muttered, his voice hollow. "Not from Adrian. Not from Jesper. Not from anyone."

The holo-screen beeped, signaling the completion of the file transfer. Jael returned to the desk and ejected the data chip, holding it in his palm for a moment before sliding it into a hidden compartment beneath the desk. He then activated a secondary terminal, entering a complex string of code that brought up a virtual game interface.

The game was a simple puzzle, designed to look like an innocent pastime. But embedded within its code were all the files he had just copied, hidden behind layers of encryption. It was a long shot, but Jael hoped that one day, someone with the skills and determination to uncover the truth would stumble upon it. Someone who could finish what he couldn’t.

With a deep breath, Jael activated the program, watching as the files disappeared into the game’s code. He then turned to the holo-screen and initiated the deletion sequence. Every file, every piece of evidence that could link him to this act of rebellion, was wiped clean. The room filled with the faint hum of data being erased, followed by the hiss of incineration as Jael fed the physical notes and diagrams into a nearby disposal unit.

When it was done, Jael stood in the middle of the room, his shoulders slumped. The weight of his actions pressed down on him like a physical burden, but there was no time to dwell on it. He still had work to do.

Crossing to another terminal, he pulled up the DNA data for Ethan Levistis. The screen filled with graphs and sequences, each one a testament to the instability that plagued Ethan’s body. Jael studied the data with a practiced eye, his mind racing with possible solutions.

"Ethan..." he murmured, his voice softening. "You won’t live past thirty if this instability isn’t fixed."

He ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of determination and guilt. Ethan’s condition wasn’t his fault, but it was yet another reminder of the organization’s cruelty, of the lengths they would go to achieve their goals. And though Jael knew he couldn’t undo the damage that had been done, he could at least try to make a difference. Even if it was too late for him to be redeemed, he could still help.

"Just this once," he whispered to himself, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he began working on a new formula. "Just this once, I’ll do something right."

The hours passed in silence, broken only by the soft tapping of keys and the hum of the lab equipment. Jael’s focus never wavered, his mind consumed by the task at hand. For the first time in years, he felt a flicker of something he couldn’t quite name. Not hope—he had lost that long ago. But perhaps... purpose.

As the formula began to take shape on the screen, Jael allowed himself a small, bitter smile. He didn’t deserve forgiveness. He didn’t deserve redemption. But if he could save Ethan—if he could give Adrian and the twins a chance at a future—then maybe, just maybe, his actions wouldn’t have been entirely in vain.

And for now, that was enough.

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