Chapter 214: The Night Was Heavy

The night was heavy as Elias Mercer stood alone in the empty living room.

"Clara..."

His whisper echoed through the silent space.

"I miss you so much..."

The howling wind outside seemed to mock his solitude.

"Come back to me?"

Only cold air and shifting shadows on the walls answered him.

* * *

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains.

Clara Whitmore rose early, washed up, and tied on her apron to prepare breakfast.

Eggs sizzled in the skillet while toast aroma filled the kitchen.

With efficient movements, she packed the meal into containers and gathered her research materials.

As she closed the door, a paper bag caught her eye.

It hung from the doorknob, containing a tube of nasal ointment.

Her usual brand.

Clara scanned the empty hallway.

Her gaze drifted to the door across from hers.

Just as she hesitated to knock, it swung open.

Elias emerged with a grim expression, freezing when he saw her.

"What's wrong?" Clara instantly sensed trouble.

He strode toward the elevator: "We've got lab issues. I'll explain on the way."

Her stomach dropped as she followed, the ointment forgotten.

During descent, Elias's phone rang.

The caller's words darkened his expression.

"...Understood. We're arriving now."

Hanging up, he preempted her question: "System crash. We've lost this week's data."

"Backups?" Her voice tightened.

"Mostly wiped. Less than thirty percent remains."

The lab routinely purged data monthly, having just done so last week.

Their dual-backup system had never failed before.

This anomaly felt too deliberate.

* * *

By 8 AM, the entire lab team had assembled.

Technicians worked frantically on the computers.

Elias approached the console: "Status?"

Theo Marsh wiped his brow: "Celia Monroe was inputting data when the screen went black. The data vanished after reboot."

Elise Warren stared at the monitor, brow furrowed.

Celia, their meticulous data manager, paced pale-faced in a corner.

Felix Moreau pressed: "Can you recover anything, sir?"

The technician's fingers flew across the keyboard, beads of sweat forming.

A suffocating silence enveloped the laboratory.