Chapter 3
The crowd gave her a fragile sense of cover, but the tension in her chest didn’t ease. Her mind raced as she glanced over her shoulder, the reality sinking in: if they could seize everything and treat a tenured professor like Dr. Vance as disposable, they could do it to anyone. Including her.
She felt more alone than ever. She’d always had her father and the professor—two constants in a turbulent world. But now? The fear of losing both wrapped around her like a vise. Forcing herself to focus, she quickened her pace. Her father needed her. She had to get home, check on him, and prepare for the nurse’s visit she’d begged for the night before.
As Raven reached her apartment door, the weight of the day pressed down on her shoulders. Unlocking it, she stepped inside and was immediately met by the stale, heavy air of the small space. The scent of sickness hung in the room, a sour reminder of her father’s condition. She cracked the window above the sink, letting in the cool autumn breeze, and took a moment to gather herself. The panic from the lab felt like a distant storm now, replaced by the suffocating weight of her responsibilities.
Taking a deep breath, Raven headed to her father’s room. She pushed the door open, the faint hum of medical equipment greeting her like an unwelcome guest. The room was dark, illuminated only by the muted glow of a monitor. She crossed to the nightstand, flicked on the bedside lamp, and turned to see her father stirring.
“Raven?” Jamie Marlowe’s voice was hoarse but carried a warmth that momentarily cut through the gloom. “How was your day at school, love?”
“It was fine, Dad,” she lied, forcing a smile. “How are you feeling?”
His gaze drifted to the walls, where framed articles and awards for excellence in investigative journalism hung—a testament to the life he’d built and lost. His lips curled into a faint smile as he looked at Raven, his greatest achievement. But the moment faded as quickly as it came, and he sighed deeply.
“Let me get your meds,” Raven said softly, moving to the nightstand. As she sorted through the pill bottles, Jamie’s expression grew distant, his voice tinged with regret. Her hands froze as she counted the pills left in the bottle. This was it—his last dose. The truth hit her like a blow to the chest, all the pleading, yelling, and tear-choked begging flashing through her mind. None of it mattered. No amount of fighting could change the inevitable. The system had decided her father’s fate, and she was powerless to stop it. It didn’t matter that if they had enough money, this disease could be cured, that even beyond that, they could make his passing so much more comfortable. But they won’t; there just isn’t enough profit to justify it.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, his words heavy. “Sorry for the world you’ve inherited. I tried—I really did—but it was too big, too broken. Even when I had a voice, it wasn’t enough. The system was already racing toward the cliff.”
“Dad—” she began, but he held up a hand, his eyes locked on hers.
“They knew, Raven.” His voice wavered but grew sharper. “Since the ‘50s. The oil companies, the governments—they had the data. They saw the chaos coming. They knew exactly what their greed would cost the world.” He gestured weakly toward the room, to the hum of machines barely keeping him alive. “They knew, and they didn’t care. They poured fuel on the fire, choking the planet for profit. And now here we are—paying the price they always knew we’d have to pay.”
Tears welled in Raven’s eyes as she listened. She hated seeing him like this, stripped of the fire and strength that had defined him. “Dad, I know you tried. You gave up everything for me—your career, the house, everything.”
His expression softened. “You were worth it. Every sacrifice. But the fight’s not over, Raven. It’s going to take someone like you—someone smarter, braver, with more at stake than my generation did—to do what we couldn’t.”
Jamie’s smile was bittersweet. “You can’t save me, love. They’ve made sure of that. All I want now is peace—a little dignity, a little comfort. To drift off and find your mother. But even that’s too much for them. They’ve stripped us of everything, even the right to leave this world with grace.”
Raven’s voice broke. “I’m sorry, Dad. I—I don’t know what to do anymore. The system…it’s broken.”
He reached for her hand, his grip weak but steady. “You’ll figure it out. You have to. And when you do, don’t just fight the system—burn it to the ground.”
A silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, Jamie shifted, moving the cords and tubes that snaked up his arms aside, wincing at the effort, and patting the bed beside him. “Come here, sweetheart. Let’s take a nap like we used to.”
Raven hesitated, then climbed into bed, wrapping her arm around him. His chest rose and fell beneath her hand, and for a fleeting moment, she was six years old again, safe in his arms as he hummed an off-key lullaby. She clung to that memory, grateful for this one last lucid moment with the real version of her father—the man he had been, not the ghost the disease had left behind.
