The third knock made the locked door jump in its frame, but Manuel Nelson did not look away from the pale rings around his wife’s wrists.

The cold air of the inner vault smells faintly of ozone, old paper, and polished steel. Arthur stands his ground in the doorway, his posture rigid, radiating an aura of absolute authority. He looks past Julian, his gaze fixing on his daughter with clinical detachment rather than paternal warmth.

"Rosie," Arthur says, his voice dropping into a soothing, manipulative register that he has clearly used to control her for years. "You are confused. The trauma of the wedding day has triggered a dissociative episode. Come back to your father. We can fix this in the private wing."

Rosie flinches, pressing herself closer to Julian’s back. "You didn't fix me, Father. You locked me away because I remember what happened to Mother."

At the mention of her mother, Arthur’s eyes narrow just a fraction—the only outward sign of the panic threatening to break through his icy facade. The guards beside him take another step forward, their boots squeaking slightly on the pristine floor. Julian reacts instantly, pulling a small silver access card from his breast pocket and holding it up.

"Stop right there," Julian commands, his voice ringing with authority. "This facility operates under corporate charter oversight. If you touch either of us, the automated security protocol transmits the decrypted files of the Lori Project to the federal oversight board within sixty seconds."

Arthur pauses, his expression darkening into a mask of pure venom. He realizes Julian has anticipated his moves, securing the digital insurance policy they desperately needed.

"You think a few stolen files will protect you from reality?" Arthur scoffs, though his voice lacks its previous absolute certainty. "That project was approved by the board of directors. Every medical intervention was signed off under psychiatric duress clauses. You cannot fight an institution, Julian. You are just a man in a tuxedo playing hero."

"I am a man protecting his wife," Julian counters quietly. He looks back at Rosie, noting the subtle tremor in her jaw. The sedative Arthur’s doctors administered is beginning to wear off, leaving her vulnerable to intense pain, yet her mind is clearing. Every second they spend lingering in this corridor increases the risk of physical collapse.

"We need to move," Rosie whispers to Julian, her voice strained. "The emergency stairwell at the end of the hall leads to the garage. But the biometric locks won't open without Father’s administrative code."

Julian nods imperceptibly. He turns his attention back to Arthur, who is calculating his next move with predatory patience. The guards are waiting for a nod, a twitch, any sign that they can take Julian down without triggering the data transfer.

"Let’s talk terms, Arthur," Julian says, stepping out of the doorway to block the line of sight between the older man and Rosie. "You let us walk out of this building, and the local copies of the Lori Project remain encrypted. You keep your secrets, and we keep our lives."