Miller
I heaved a deep, ragged sigh as I paced the length of the grand office, running a tense hand through my hair until the strands stood up in messy tufts.
My fingers were trembling slightly, a physical manifestation of the anxiety that had been clawing at my chest for the last seventy-two hours.
Ever since I walked out of Dr. Joe’s room three days ago, his heavy words had been looping through my brain like an inescapable nightmare, refusing to grant me even a second of peace.
Pheromonal Atrophy Syndrome.
A horrific, silent mutation that could slowly eat up Leo’s brilliant body and sharp mind from the inside out, completely destroying his cellular stability until it ultimately killed him.
The weight of that knowledge was entirely suffocating. I still hadn’t told Leo a single word about it. Every single time I looked at him over the past three days—whether we were eating dinner in our villa, walking along the shore, or lying in bed—the words would trap themselves right in my throat, refusing to come out.
I wasn’t ready to take the risk of breaking it to him yet. I was completely terrified of how he might react.
Leo was an Ackerman; he was a man built on logic, statistics, and absolute control. If I told him that his own body was actively betraying him because he was hiding behind those massive psychological walls, I was scared he might spiral entirely out of my reach, or worse, completely shut down.
Ever since I heard the potential diagnosis, this sudden, overwhelming need to protect him had consumed me entirely.
It was a fierce, desperate instinct that had driven me straight to the administration building to find the one man who might have the answers we needed.
I had wandered up to the Director’s office multiple times over the last few days, only to be turned away by the staff, who kept repeating that he was out on urgent business off the island.
But today, I finally had the chance to meet him. The secretary had told me he was returning, so I had taken a seat in his private waiting area.
Hours passed.
The sun shifted across the sky, casting long, mocking shadows across the floorboards while I sat there, completely going out of my mind with worry, pacing back and forth until my knees ached, wondering what the hell was truly happening to the man I loved.
Then, after what felt like an eternity of aimless pacing, the heavy double doors finally swung open. Gerald Lincoln walked into the room, his expression tight with administrative exhaustion.
Hanging back just a step behind him was a younger man—his personal secretary—clutching a thick, confidential leather folder tightly against his chest.
Gerald didn’t notice me immediately; he had his phone pressed firmly against his ear, speaking rapidly to someone on the other end of the line about logistics.
The moment his eyes drifted across the room and landed on me, he paused mid-sentence. He flashed me a warm, reassuring smile and waved his hand softly to acknowledge my presence, gesturing for me to give him just a moment. He walked straight past me, heading behind his massive mahogany desk and settling into his leather chair without breaking his conversation.
"Right, I understand," Gerald spoke into the receiver, his voice tight. "It’s highly surprising that something of that magnitude happened over there, and now the Council members are planning on releasing a newer update immediately to try and calm everyone down before the media gets wind of it. Keep me updated on the broadcast schedule."
I couldn’t just sit there anymore. My patience had completely evaporated over the last three days, so I walked directly up to the front of his desk, standing tall right in his line of sight to announce to him that I was right there, waiting, and I wasn’t planning on leaving until I got what I came for.
Gerald looked up at me, his smile widening slightly at my blatant persistence. He waved his hand toward the empty chair across from him, then muttered a final instruction to the person on the other end of the line. "Yes, I will have to call you back later. I have a guest in my office right now." He tapped the screen to end the call, dropped the device onto the polished wood of his table, and turned his full, undivided attention toward me. "Oh, pardon me, Mr. Reid. Please, have a seat. My assistant mentioned that you have been looking for me for days. Is everything alright?"
I shook my head in response, the tension in my jaw making it hard to find my voice. Just as I parted my lips to speak, the secretary stepped forward smoothly, dropping the heavy folder directly in front of Gerald with a quiet thud.
"Thank you, Marcus," Gerald said, adjusting his cuffs. "You can leave for the evening. I will send for you once I am entirely done speaking with Mr. Reid."
Marcus nodded respectfully, bowing his head toward both of us before turning on his heel and exiting the office, ensuring the heavy doors clicked shut behind him.
Once the click echoed through the room and we were finally left completely alone, Gerald leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk, the professional smile returning to his aged face.
"So, Mr. Reid, how are things going for you out on the island? I heard you have been practically hunting me down for days, so I must ask again—is everything alright?" He didn’t even wait for me to answer before his eyes narrowed slightly, the clinical concern taking over. "I was forced to leave the island because a sudden administrative crisis required my presence on the mainland. So tell me now, what is happening? Is Leo alright? I must admit, seeing you here entirely alone makes me quite anxious."
I nodded slowly, shifting uncomfortably on the edge of the leather chair before I shook my head again, the contradiction perfectly matching the mess inside my brain. "That is exactly why I am here, Director," I began, my voice rough.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to lay out every single piece of information I had gathered. I explained everything I had told Dr. Joe days ago—the intense session in the bathroom, the absolute refusal from Leo to let out his primary pheromones, and then that sudden, sweet, intoxicating scent of blooming night jasmine that had briefly broken through his walls during intimacy.
Gerald listened to me without interrupting a single time. His expression shifted from mild curiosity to absolute, stark gravity, his features hardening the more I spoke.
Once I finally finished detailing the exact way the scent had lingered in the air, I cleared my throat, leaning closer across the desk.
"Dr. Joe told me that you had personally met the man who first manifested these dual pheromones years ago," I continued, my voice trembling slightly. "I came here because I wanted to know if there is a way you can help us out. I need to know what we are dealing with. And as for that secondary condition... Director, I don’t want it to be true. I can’t let it be true."
Gerald heaved a long, incredibly deep sigh, the sound echoing heavily against the wood panels of the office. He didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he raised his hand, his fingers slowly and rhythmically tapping against the polished surface of the table, his eyes staring blankly at the leather folder in front of him as if he were pulling up memories he had spent decades trying to bury.
When he finally looked up at me, the warmth was completely gone from his eyes, replaced by a profound, breaking sadness.
"The man Dr. Joe was referring to," Gerald began slowly, his voice dropping into a low, somber tone that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, "was Lucas Ackerman. Leo’s father."