Chapter 2: Echoes in the Concrete
The high-society event turned into chaos within seconds. Phones buzzed, livestream alerts lit up social media feeds, and the viral video titled *“Billionaire Sculptor Walks: Real Miracle or PR Stunt?”* crossed ten million views before noon. But inside Evelyn’s private penthouse, the silence was deafening.
Evelyn walked back and forth across the hardwood floor. Each step felt like a foreign language her muscles had forgotten, yet they moved with effortless grace. There was no atrophy, no phantom ache, no nerve damage.
Marcus knocked gently on the doorframe, holding a tablet displaying biometric scans and local police logs.
"The medical team just left," Marcus said, his voice unusually strained. "They can't explain it. Your spinal cord isn't just healed; the scar tissue is completely gone. Miss Vance... that kid isn't in any municipal database."
"He was shivering, Marcus," Evelyn replied, staring out over the sprawling skyline. "Did you see his boots? The soles were split open. Whoever he is, he's living on the street."
"If people find out what he can do, he won't be safe on any street," Marcus warned, his security instincts sharp. "Pharma giants, private militaries, religious fanatics—they’ll tear this city apart to put him in a cage."
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Evelyn turned around, her gaze resolute. "Then we have to find him first. Not to study him. To protect him."
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