Chapter 562: Proof of Life

The investigation entered a more dangerous phase with proof of life, because the latest evidence no longer belonged entirely to dead researchers and abandoned systems. The sender provides a recent proof-of-life recording alongside historical documents never digitized by Crosswind.

Derek insisted on verification before reaction. Every message was preserved, every document authenticated where possible, and every claim separated from what independent records could support. Freya had learned to appreciate that discipline even when impatience made it uncomfortable.

Experts find no obvious manipulation, making it increasingly likely Evelyn Shaw is alive.

Louis was particularly tense. The possibility of a living participant changed the problem for him. Old software could be isolated. Archived files could be sealed. A person with motives, resources, and knowledge of their history required a different kind of caution.

Freya understood his concern, but she made her position clear before any meeting or search began. Nobody would be threatened, detained, followed illegally, or pressured through Louis's corporate influence. If they wanted the truth to matter, they could not obtain it by becoming another version of Crosswind.

Louis accepted the boundary. Years ago, he might have called it inefficient. Now he simply told Derek to work through counsel and licensed investigators.

That small exchange reminded Freya how much had changed between them.

Their marriage was no longer built around the assumption that Louis knew how to handle every dangerous thing. Freya did not need him to become less capable; she needed his capability to leave room for her judgment. Slowly, he was learning to do exactly that.

Work remained active around them. Sunroom's cultural center had moved beyond the atrium crisis and into a steadier construction rhythm. Freya still visited the site regularly, checking details with Helen and listening to problems from contractors before they became expensive.

Awake Stories' new imprint was preparing its first release schedule. The editors had chosen books Freya would not necessarily have selected herself, and she considered that a good sign. A company that reflected only its founder's taste would eventually become a cage.

At The Open Page, readers continued caring about far simpler mysteries: whether a favorite couple would reconcile, whether a fantasy hero would survive, whether the final volume of a series would arrive on time.

Freya envied them occasionally.

Then she remembered that she had once been exactly that kind of reader. She had opened The CEO's Gentle Devotion expecting entertainment and never imagined she would wake inside the life of a woman she barely respected.

The thought no longer produced the same panic it once had.

Whatever mechanism had brought her here, the life she built afterward belonged to years of work, mistakes, affection, anger, and choice. No observer log could reduce that into a clean experiment.

At home, she recorded the day's facts in her notebook. Louis sat nearby reviewing documents of his own. They worked in silence until he finally looked over.

"Do you ever wish we had never found any of this?" he asked.

Freya considered the question seriously.

"Sometimes," she admitted. "But not knowing didn't make it harmless."

Louis nodded.

The hidden manuscript remained sealed. Freya would not use unread fiction to identify suspects or predict investigative developments, no matter how tempting the shortcut became.

Mercer also stayed outside criminal conclusions. His role was to explain what the models could predict and how their permissions worked, not decide who had exploited them.

That separation mattered more now that real accusations could carry consequences far beyond the research room.

That was the uncomfortable truth beneath the entire investigation. The old systems had influenced lives whether the people inside those lives knew it or not.

Freya closed her notebook.

If someone living had helped turn predictions into pressure, then the next part of the story would not be about fate.

It would be about responsibility.