The turn on

CHAPTER 8: THE INTERROGATION AND THE INVESTIGATION

ARORA'S POV

The new "suite" was even more lavish, more isolated. Silk drapes covered windows that might have overlooked a sprawling garden, but Arora couldn't be sure. The air was thick with the scent of lilies, almost suffocating. She felt less like a guest and more like a rare specimen under glass.

Elara Thorne was her captor, though the woman's demeanor was unfailingly polite. Too polite. She'd brought Arora a delicate breakfast, personally poured her tea, and then, without missing a beat, begun her interrogation.

"Tell me about your childhood, Miss Creek," Elara began, her voice calm, her gaze unwavering. "Were there any unusual illnesses? Any strange reactions? Any… unique experiences that might explain your remarkable constitution?"

Arora swallowed, trying to project a defiance she didn't feel. "I'm just a normal person. I had chickenpox, like everyone else. Flu shots. Nothing special."

Elara merely smiled, a predatory curve of her lips. "Statistically, 'normal' doesn't account for a complete lack of histamine response to specific human proteins. It doesn't explain your system's perfect neutrality against what renders others so acutely ill." She picked up a pristine white tablet. "Our preliminary scans indicate… an astonishing resilience. Almost as if your body possesses a natural shield."

Arora's mind raced. A shield? Was that what Nathaniel had felt? A lack of the terrible symptoms that plagued him? She remembered Jake's words: "a medical marvel." The idea was terrifying, alien. She didn't want to be a marvel; she just wanted her normal life back.

"I don't understand any of this," Arora insisted, trying to sound genuinely confused. She had to deny any special knowledge, any awareness of being "different." It was her only defense. If they thought she held a secret, they might push harder.

Elara's eyes narrowed. "Don't play coy, child. Your cooperation will make this far easier. For everyone. We believe your daily presence, your very proximity, is the key to Nathaniel's remission. We simply need to understand why. And you will help us."

The implied threat was a cold current beneath Elara's smooth words. Arora knew she had to resist. But how? Surrounded by an unknown number of guards, in a place she couldn't identify, with her visa and scholarship hanging by a thread, she felt utterly helpless. Her gaze fell on a small, antique music box on a nearby table, intricately carved. A foolish thought, perhaps, but it was the only object in the room that wasn't starkly functional. Could it be a way to send a message? A faint glimmer of desperate hope sparked within her.

NATHANIEL'S POV

"My aunt," Nathaniel snarled, pacing the floor of the penthouse suite. "Elara Thorne. She's the one who took her." His mind was a whirlwind of fury and self-loathing. He should have stopped Arora. He should have seen this coming.

Jake, looking haggard, sat slumped on the couch. "Nate, she's formidable. She runs the Thorne Foundation. They've poured billions into finding a solution for your condition. They believe Arora is the breakthrough."

"I don't care what they believe," Nathaniel seethed. "She's not a research subject. She's a person. And she's terrified. We have to get her out."

"How?" Jake threw his hands up. "This isn't some small-time operation. Elara has connections everywhere. Security like you wouldn't believe."

Nathaniel stopped pacing, his eyes cold and calculating. "She might have connections, but I have power. And money. And a network of my own." He pulled out his phone, his fingers flying. "First, trace that limo. There are private planes, hidden airfields, secluded estates. They can't hide forever. Every financial transaction, every land deed, every shell corporation tied to the Thorne Foundation's 'research' initiatives. I want it all."

He barked orders into the phone to his head of security, his legal team, his private investigators. This wasn't about the show anymore. This was about saving Arora. And for the first time in years, the lethargy of his condition, the dull ache of his allergy, was completely gone. The fury, the desperate need to find her, fueled him. It was a terrifying, exhilarating clarity.

"Jake," Nathaniel said, turning to his friend, his voice low and dangerous. "You're in deep with this. You'll help me. Every secret, every contact, every whispered rumor you've heard about Elara's operation. I want it all. Now."

Jake swallowed, looking from Nathaniel's determined face to the phone in his hand. He knew the ruthlessness Nathaniel was capable of when pushed. "Okay, Nate. Okay. There's an old Thorne family estate upstate. Heavily fortified. It's where they usually conduct their 'sensitive' projects." He pulled out his own tablet, his fingers flying across the screen. "And there's a private server, encrypted. Holds all their research data, their financial flows... and lists of personnel. Maybe even their access codes."

A spark of grim satisfaction ignited in Nathaniel. "Good. Let's start there. If she's a 'divine coincidence,' as my aunt put it, then I'm her guardian angel. And no one, not even Elara Thorne, is going to stand in my way."

He knew Elara was powerful, but he was Nathaniel Dawson, and for the first time, he had something truly worth fighting for. And the strange, unsettling part was, his body felt stronger, clearer than it had in years. The missing piece. It truly was her.