Chapter 2

The word "incubator" felt like a poisoned needle lodged deep in my brain, tormenting me day and night.

I started losing sleep, lying awake night after night, listening to Victoria's steady breathing beside me, feeling like I was sleeping inside a giant, cold glass jar.

I began to watch everything around me without letting anyone notice.

At the dinner table, Evelyn would personally hand Victoria a bowl of soup and a handful of brightly colored pills. The pills came from a spotless white porcelain bottle with no labels.

Victoria swallowed them without hesitation, then looked up at me. The warmth in her eyes was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating gaze. It was like she was an expert appraiser, checking a nearly finished product, picking apart every detail to make sure nothing was out of place.

It felt like every single thing I did was being evaluated. How fast I ate, how many times I chewed, and even the way my throat moved when I drank water were watched by her. Being examined like some commodity made my blood freeze in my veins.

I had to find out what that pill really was.

One afternoon after lunch, as Victoria took her pills as usual, I pretended to accidentally knock over my water glass, spilling it all over the floor.

While Evelyn and the maid scrambled to clean up, I moved fast. I swept a small blue pill that had slipped from Victoria's fingers into my palm and clenching it tightly.

The pill was cold and hard, pressing painfully into my hand. My heart was pounding so wildly in my chest that it felt like it might crack my ribs.

I needed more evidence.

They watched me like a hawk, but there were always little gaps. Like during the weekly deep cleaning, when the maids scrubbed every room top to bottom, it was the only time I could get into their bedrooms without anyone questioning it.

My chance finally came. I acted terrified of a spider in my room, pleading with the maid to clean my room first, and made a big deal about needing the heavy-duty vacuum from the storage closet. As soon as she left, I slipped into Victoria's room.

Her scent still lingered in the room, but now it turned my stomach. I headed straight for the nightstand.

The first drawer was full of pregnancy books and skincare products. The second was empty. My heart sank. Was I wrong after all?

My fingers swept quickly along the inside walls of the drawer, not missing a single gap. At the deepest part, I felt a tiny bump. I pressed down, and with a soft click, the bottom popped open, revealing a hidden compartment.

My breath caught in my throat.

Inside the hidden compartment, a brown paper file sat there, silent and unassuming. My hands trembled as I took it out. The flap was simply folded, not sealed. I pulled out the papers. a thorough medical report.

There was no name at the top, a chilling code: Donor A.

I flipped through the pages, my fingertips icy. Height: 5'11". Weight: 165 lbs. Blood type: O positive. Allergies: Spring pollen...

My pupils shrank, and it felt like my blood froze solid. Every number, every word was like a surgeon's knife, cutting me open and exposing all my hidden traits on this paper for anyone to see.

This was my medical report!

Fighting off dizziness, I turned to the last page. Beneath a mountain of medical terms, there was a line. I instantly recognized that the handwriting was Evelyn's.

[Genetic match: 97.3%. First phase target achieved. Proceed to next stage.]

First phase target? What the hell was the first phase target?

What was the next stage supposed to be?

I gripped the report like it was burning straight through my skin. An overwhelming, unspeakable terror swallowed me whole.

I wasn't Lucas Carter anymore. I was a code, a string of numbers, a "donor" who'd already hit their target.