209: The Ambassador of the Lie Part 02

209: The Ambassador of the Lie Part 02
Ava's POV

Emma obeyed instantly, sinking into the armchair beside my bed, clutching the now useless secure phone she’d been using.

Before he spoke again, Liam performed a swift, chilling action that confirmed the full scope of the emergency. His hand rose casually to his collar, and he spoke a quick, low-coded sequence into the microphone hidden there—an order so rapid and soft it was unintelligible, yet I knew it was meant for the outer security perimeter. It was a silent, unblinking confirmation that he was fighting a hidden, active war.

"Listen closely. This is a strategic assessment," Liam began, delivering the facts with brutal clarity. "Gabriel's escape was a consequence of the ARES-ONE breach. He now possesses the Chimera Stone—a repository of intelligence capable of dismantling my global network. But his goal is not financial destruction; it’s personal."

He tapped the clear plastic of Victor’s incubator. "He knows the depth of my vulnerability. The Nightingale is no longer a sanctuary. It is a pivot point on a global map, and he will use every means possible to force me out of this room. We must assume his network is already attempting to penetrate the outer layers of our lockdown."

I felt a fresh wave of nausea, visualizing the red, violent spike of communication—the sound of the helicopter blades from my nightmare—reaching Gabriel’s cold, hungry eyes.

"That means we are now operating under the Rule of Zero," Liam continued. "Zero physical contact with the outside world. Zero unsanctioned data transfer. Every device in this room, including yours, Emma, is under constant, triple-encrypted monitoring. If you send a text, it is logged and analyzed by my team for potential threats, and you must assume Gabriel sees it too."

Emma looked pale, shaking her head slowly. "But my parents... Our parents... they're flying here. They'll be frantic when they can't get past the gate. What am I supposed to tell them?"

Liam handed her a new phone—a heavy, cold, black device that looked less like a communication tool and more like a tactical weapon.

"You are going to tell them the truth, Emma, but you are going to use the Ambassador of the Lie protocol," he instructed, forcing her into the shadow war. "You are now our single point of communication. Your sole mission is to maintain the cover story."

He laid out the official lie with precision: "Victor was born successfully, but suffered a minor respiratory complication. He requires mandatory, two-week isolation in a sterile environment, which means absolutely no visitors for his safety. Ava is recovering but exhausted, and I am the only one allowed near the incubator."

"You must sound completely convincing. You must sound exhausted, relieved, and absolutely firm about the quarantine," Liam commanded. "This lie must be watertight to keep them safe, because any deviation will signal to Gabriel that the crisis is worse."

Emma looked horrified. "I have to lie to my parents? Our parents, Ava? They'll never believe me, Liam. They'll demand to know why you aren't flying them in."

"They will believe you because they trust you," I interjected, my voice firmer than I felt. I had to support Liam; his command was our only shield. "You tell them the Commander has gone full protective mode for his son, and that is a firewall no parent can breach. Please, Em. You are the only one we trust not to be compromised."

Liam nodded curtly at my defense. "One more thing, Emma. You will not be leaving this facility. Your personal devices will be confiscated and stored. A secure suite has been prepared for you. You are under the same quarantine as Ava and Victor, but you will be the one talking." He left no room for argument.

Emma looked from my pleading face to the secured phone in her hand. The cold, heavy device was a physical symbol of her induction into his world. She realized the truth: she had just been press-ganged into Liam's personal security detail. Her simple act of calling her parents in panic had made her the one essential—and terrifyingly exposed—link to the outside.

She lifted the secure phone, her hand trembling. "Okay," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I'll do it. I'll lie." She looked at Liam, a flash of her usual defiance returning. "But you owe me a massive, decades-long apology for this, Commander."

Liam gave a single, curt nod. "Agreed. Now, start with your parents. And make the lie perfect."

She raised the phone, her hands trembling so violently that she had to brace her elbows against the arms of the chair. The simple act of dialing was excruciating. She put the call on speaker, and the strained, frantic voice of her mother filled the sterile room.

"Emma! Where are you? The airline said you landed. We're at the gate! Where is Ava? Is the baby—"

"Mom, stop! Listen to me," Emma whispered, her voice cracking instantly under the emotional demand. "I’m fine. Ava is fine. But... the baby needs..." Emma faltered, unable to push the fabricated medical lie past her lips. Her eyes darted to Liam, pleading for rescue.

Liam, standing by the incubator, gave her a single, intense silent signal—a slight, unyielding shake of his head and an authoritative glare.

Emma visibly steeled herself, her face hardening into a mask of exhaustion and artificial calm. "Mom, please. Victor is fine, but he had a minor respiratory complication. He has to be in strict isolation in a specialized incubator for two weeks. The doctors—the Commander—have imposed a zero-contact quarantine. We can't see anyone, for his safety. I'm telling you, everything is okay, but you cannot come here. Please. Go home. We need you to stay safe and wait for us."

There was silence on the line, followed by a quiet sob. "Is Liam there? Let me talk to Liam!"

"He's operating on restricted comms, Mom. He can't," Emma lied, firm this time. "Please. Trust me. We'll call you every twelve hours on this line. Go home."

She ended the call with a finality that sounded like a gunshot. She cradled the heavy phone, now our terrifying lifeline, and tears streamed down her face, no longer of relief, but of profound moral distress. 

Emma retreated to the far corner of the room to pull herself together. I looked at Liam, who was already turning his attention back to the silent strategic monitor near the door. Victor was safe for this minute, this hour, but the war was now locked down with us inside the cage. I had lost the celebration of my son's birth, lost the comfort of my family, and gained a new, terrifying knowledge: Liam's protection felt exactly like a hostage situation, and I was learning to be grateful for the chains.