The grand hall shimmered under golden chandeliers, a spectacle of wealth and admiration. The air was thick with applause, camera flashes illuminating the stage where Dr. Alexander Varick stood—the embodiment of genius, success, and everything his peers envied.
"To the brilliant mind who has changed the course of science forever," the host declared, voice laced with forced admiration. "Ladies and gentlemen, our esteemed recipient... Dr. Alexander Varick!"
Thunderous applause erupted. A standing ovation. The room buzzed with admiration, but beneath it, hidden in the corners of forced smiles and empty claps, resentment grew.
Varick adjusted his tie, his sharp eyes scanning the audience. He was no fool, he saw the flickers of bitterness, the barely concealed glares, the way some clapped with exaggerated enthusiasm while others barely lifted their hands.
Among them, in a dimly lit section of the hall, Dr. Kessler leaned toward Dr. Monroe, his jaw tight, his hands clenched.
"It should've been me," Kessler hissed, barely keeping his voice low enough to go unnoticed.
Monroe chuckled, swirling the champagne in his glass. "Let him have his moment. The higher he climbs, the harder he'll fall."
"The board was considering me this year," Kessler muttered, his bitterness barely concealed. "But then he came up with that breakthrough on viral mutation, and suddenly, I'm just another nominee."
Monroe smirked. "He thinks he's untouchable."
"We'll see about that."
Back on stage, Varick's grip tightened around the microphone, but he pushed the tension aside. Not tonight. Tonight was a celebration.
He took a breath and began, his voice steady despite the weight pressing on his chest.
"Thank you," he said, scanning the room. "I stand here not as an individual, but as part of a team. This achievement is ours. To my colleagues, your brilliance fuels innovation. To my students, your curiosity shapes the future. And to my family…"
His gaze landed on his wife, Eleanor, standing in the front row. Her smile was radiant, poised under the glow of the stage lights, her eyes shimmering with pride.
"To my wife, my greatest support, my partner in all things... thank you. None of this would be possible without you."
The audience cheered. Eleanor reached for his hand, her fingers curling around his, warm and reassuring.
Then, as the applause continued, she let go.
Varick turned toward her, expecting to meet her gaze, but she was already looking away.
Her fingers tapped against her phone screen.
His brow furrowed slightly, but before he could dwell on it, people swarmed around him as he stepped off the stage.
"Dr. Varick, a truly remarkable achievement!" A man in a dark suit reached out to shake his hand. "Your research will redefine the field."
"Thank you, truly," Varick replied, keeping his tone humble despite the pride swelling in his chest.
"Dr. Varick!" Another voice called out. "How do you see your discovery impacting future medical advancements?"
Varick answered, engaging in a brief but articulate discussion about potential applications. More colleagues approached.. some congratulatory, some reserved, and some, like Kessler and Monroe, lurking at a distance.
Kessler forced a smile as he finally stepped forward, extending his hand. "Impressive work, Alexander. Though I have to admit, I thought this year might be mine."
Varick shook his hand firmly, offering a polite smile. "Science is always a collective effort, Kessler. I'm sure your contributions were just as valuable."
Kessler's jaw tightened for a fraction of a second before his forced grin returned. "Of course. We all have our moments, don't we?"
Monroe clapped Varick on the shoulder. "Enjoy the spotlight, Alex. Just remember, nothing stays on top forever."
Varick chuckled, ignoring the veiled threat. "Then I guess I'll make the most of it while I can."
Eleanor appeared beside him, looping her arm through his. "Shall we go?"
He glanced at her, noticing how quickly she put her phone away the moment he turned toward her.
Something about it gnawed at him, but he let it slide.
Tonight was his night.
And yet, somewhere deep in his gut, an unease lingered.
-------------
The dining room was bathed in a soft glow, the rich scent of rosemary and garlic lingering in the air. Laughter echoed against the walls, warm and full, as wine glasses clinked in celebration. This was home. This was his sanctuary.
Noah and Emma sat across from him, their faces alight with amusement.
"Dad, you should've seen yourself up there," Noah teased, smirking as he leaned forward. "You looked like a nervous wreck."
Varick chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass. "I had every right to be. Thousands of people staring at me? Terrifying."
"But you were so cool, Daddy!" Emma giggled, reaching for his hand. "Like a real superhero!"
His heart swelled. This was what mattered. Not the envious glares at the ceremony. Not the whispers lurking beneath polite applause. Just his family, his anchor.
Eleanor sat beside him, quiet, a ghost of a smile on her lips. She twirled her glass, watching the deep red liquid swirl before bringing it to her lips. But her mind was elsewhere.
"Mom, you're not even listening!" Emma pouted, nudging her gently.
Eleanor blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. "Of course, I am, sweetheart. What were you saying?"
"That Dad was a total mess on stage," Noah supplied with a grin.
Varick shook his head in mock offense. "Alright, alright. Enough slander at the dinner table."
The room filled with laughter, but beside him, Eleanor's grip tightened around her phone. Her fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating, before she slipped it into her lap.
Varick leaned in slightly, his voice low. "Everything okay?"
She looked at him then, really looked at him. A soft smile curved her lips, but her eyes… they didn't match. "Of course. Just tired."
He wanted to press, to ask again. But the moment passed as quickly as it came.
Later that night, the house had settled into silence. The warmth of the evening faded into the cool hush of midnight, and the weight of exhaustion pressed down on him.
Varick lay beside Eleanor, his arm draped over her waist. She felt warm, solid, real. Her breathing was steady, but she hadn't touched her phone since dinner. Hadn't even looked at it.
It should've reassured him.
It didn't.
She shifted, turning toward him in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. "You've done something incredible, Varick."
Her voice was soft, reverent.
"The world will remember you."
Something about the way she said it… it felt like a goodbye.
His chest tightened. "Eleanor—"
She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him with a lingering kiss.
"Shh," she whispered. "Just hold me."
And so he did and drifted off to sleep.
----------------
The shrill vibration of his phone sliced through the silence.
Varick groaned, shifting onto his side, burying his face into the pillow. The incessant buzzing rattled against the wooden nightstand, refusing to be ignored.
The screen glowed in the darkness. 1:37 AM.
His brows furrowed. Who in their right mind calls at this hour?
With a sigh, he reached for the device, squinting at the caller ID. Dr. Kessler.
His instincts screamed at him to let it ring. But something in the pit of his stomach twisted. He swiped to answer.
"Varick—" his voice rasped, frantic, breathless. "RUN. They know about your latest discovery. The organization is coming for you. You don't have much time."
His blood ran cold as his mind raced. Who told them? How did they find out?
"What?! What are you talking about?"
No answer. Just the sound of hurried breathing.
Then—gunfire.
Varick shot upright. The rapid, unmistakable crack of bullets tearing through walls, flesh, life. His grip on the phone tightened.
"Hello?!"
A pained grunt, followed by a heavy thud. The line went dead.
His pulse pounded in his ears. Who told them? How did they find out?
Then another gunshot, this time it sounded closer... Inside the house.
Varick's breath hitched. His eyes darted to Eleanor's side of the bed.
Empty.
The sheets were still warm.
A shiver of dread slithered down his spine. Where the hell was she?
Adrenaline surged through his veins. Move. He tore the covers off, feet hitting the cold floor.
Varick's heart pounded as he sprinted down the dimly lit hallway. His children. He had to get to them.
He reached Noah and Emma's bedroom, nearly ripping the door off its hinges. The soft glow of a nightlight bathed the room in an orange haze. His children lay bundled in their blankets, oblivious.
"Noah, Emma, wake up." His voice was urgent but low.
Emma stirred first, rubbing her eyes. "Daddy…?"
Noah frowned. "What's wrong?"
No time. He rushed to the wardrobe, pressing his palm against the back panel. A click. The hidden compartment slid open.
"Inside. Now."
Noah hesitated. "Dad, what—"
"Noah... please." His voice broke.
Something in his tone must have terrified them, because Noah grabbed Emma's hand and stepped inside.
Varick knelt, gripping his son's shoulders. "Listen to me. You stay here. No matter what happens, do not come out until I come for you. Do you understand?"
Emma's lip trembled. "Daddy, you're scaring me."
A lump lodged in his throat. He cupped her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I love you, sweetheart. I love you both."
BANG!!
The bedroom door slammed open.
Varick spun.
A masked figure stood in the doorway, gun raised.
No time to think.
No choice but to fight.
Varick moved before the intruder could. He lunged, slamming into the masked man, forcing the gun aside. A shot fired, shattering the nightlight.
Darkness swallowed the room.
They struggled. Fists, elbows, knees. The man was strong, trained. But Varick fought with something stronger... desperation.
He wrenched the gun free, turned it, and fired.
BANG!!
The man collapsed. Varick didn't wait. He grabbed the fallen weapon and ran. More footsteps thundered up the stairs.
He turned to see his wife, Eleanor. She stood in the doorway, breathing hard.
"Eleanor—" he started.
Her eye, wide, fearful shifted to the dead man in the hall.
Then to him.
"Varick—" she whispered, voice cracking. "They're here."
A cold dread coiled around his gut.
"I know."
Then her fingers wrapped around his wrist. "Back door. Run."
Gunfire.
The walls exploded in a hail of bullets.
They ran.
Varick's mind screamed, he couldn't outrun them.
He turned, pulling Eleanor with him.
"Go! Run!" she gasped.
"Not without you!"
Their eyes met as she shoved him hard and he stumbled back.
"Go, Varick!"
He sprinted toward his home lab, shoving open the door. His life's work, decades of research, thousands of hours, sat before him in neat stacks of servers, vials of experimental formulas, and encrypted hard drives.
And in the wrong hands, it would be a weapon.
Varick's trembling fingers hovered over the console. He knew what had to be done. He had prepared for this moment, for the possibility that his research might fall into enemy hands.
The failsafe.
He keyed in the command, his vision blurring. A prompt flashed across the screen.
WARNING: PERMANENT DATA ERASURE. THIS CANNOT BE UNDONE. PROCEED?
His heart pounded.
With a deep breath, he pressed YES.
The screen blinked. The servers whirred, then, a sharp, shrill alarm.
One by one, the files disappeared. Every encrypted document, every classified formula, every breakthrough... gone.
The vials. He couldn't leave them intact. With a sharp, desperate motion, he reached for the nearest rack and smashed it to the floor. Glass shattered, liquid pooling in a toxic, sizzling mess. He grabbed another and another, watching as the lab dissolved into destruction.
If he couldn't have it, then no one would.
Then he felt a sharp pain.
A white-hot, searing agony tore through his back. His body arched as the first bullet ripped through muscle. A second one came just as fast, tearing deeper.
The third made him crumble.
He fell, his hands grasping at nothing, his breath ragged as warmth pooled beneath him.
Bootsteps.
Slow. Measured. Approaching.
A shadow fell over him.
Varick forced himself to look up. His vision swam, but the figure standing above him, he recognized that voice.
The man who had called him.
Kessler.
Varick's lips trembled as blood trickled from his mouth. He coughed, tasting copper.
"Why?" The word barely escaped his throat, weak, broken.
Kessler crouched beside him, tilting his head as if amused. "Why?" he echoed, a slow grin curling his lips.
Then he laughed.
A deep, cruel sound that echoed through the ruined lab.
"Because, Varick," he said, his voice filled with something dark and venomous, "you had everything. The recognition. The brilliance. The success. The life I deserved."
Varick's vision blurred. His breath came in shallow gasps, his body growing colder by the second.
Then he heard footsteps approaching and they sounded familiar.
His gaze shifted past the man, and his blood ran colder than ice.
Eleanor.
His wife.
She stood there, bathed in the dim glow of the flickering monitors, her arms folded across her chest, watching him.
Smirking.
His pulse slowed. His mind struggled to understand.
"El…" His voice cracked.
Kessler stood beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close.
"Everything you had, Varick? It belongs to me now," he murmured against Eleanor's temple, pressing a kiss to her hair. He turned back to Varick, eyes gleaming with triumph. "Your work, your home… and your wife."
Eleanor chuckled, her nails lightly tracing the man's jaw.
"Oh, darling," she cooed, tilting her head as she gazed down at Varick like he was a pathetic insect squirming beneath her heel.
She reached behind her, pulling out a gun. Varick's vision blurred, pain ripping through him like a wildfire. But it wasn't from the bullets.
It was her.
His wife. The woman he had loved. The woman he had trusted.
He coughed, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth. His fingers twitched against the cold floor, reaching for what? A chance? A reason?
"I… I loved you, El," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.
Eleanor laughed. Laughed. A soft, mocking sound that twisted the knife even deeper.
"Oh, Varick," she sighed, crouching beside him. She ran a manicured finger through his blood-soaked hair, her touch gentle... too gentle. "You were such a fool."
She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, "Did you really think I ever loved you?"
His stomach churned.
"You were a means to an end. Nothing more." She pulled back, watching his face contort with agony, not just from the wounds, but from the sheer betrayal.
And then she smiled. Sweet. Cruel. Final.
"And oh! One last thing," she added, stepping back.
She raised the gun and pointed it to his head.
"The kids?" She tilted her head, letting the words sink in.
"They're not yours."
BANG.
Darkness.