The New Beginning: John Michael Kane
Cambridge, England – 24 August 2011
Alen sat in the dusty silence of his old Cambridge home. He hadn't left London yet, paralyzed by the magnitude of his decision. His mind raced, plotting a new strategy, a new life. Then, an idea crystallized.
He dressed in inconspicuous clothes and ventured out into the city, his destination the home of his oldest friend from university, Damien Rogers. A Canadian expat raised in London, Damien was a genius—a brilliant hacker with a parallel degree in virology. Their bond was ironclad; Alen had helped Damien through countless exams, and their families were close. Now, Damien was a university headmaster, a respectable cover for a man who could copy, forge, or hack anything in the digital world.
Alen approached the house with practiced caution, his eyes scanning the quiet street. He knocked sharply. The door opened a crack, and Damien's face paled as if he'd seen a ghost.
"Bloody hell…" Damien breathed. Without a word, he grabbed Alen's arm, yanked him inside, and swiftly locked the door.
"How are you alive?" Damien demanded, his voice a hushed, frantic whisper. "I thought you were dead! MI6 agents were here. They came for Jessica first, then to me when they couldn't find her. I told them she'd passed. Then they told me you were killed in action. They gave me your cap, your dog tags…"
Alen met his friend's stunned gaze. "The mission was a setup, Damien. I was betrayed. Left for dead. I barely made it out."
"Why come here? It's not safe," Damien said, his concern overriding his shock.
"I need your help," Alen stated, his voice low and steady. "I know you're headmaster now, but I need you to do what you do best. I need a full identity: degrees in genetics and virology from our alma mater, under a new name. John Michael Kane. I need a birth certificate, a national identity card. And I need you to hack the Canadian citizenship registry—plant him there. Make him real."
Damien ran a hand through his hair, the danger of the request clear. "Alen, that's… that's digging deep. If we're caught…"
"I have money. Enough to make it worth the risk." Alen placed a thick envelope on the table.
After a long moment, Damien nodded slowly. "For you, brother. Always." It took two weeks of meticulous work, but Alen—now John—held a complete, verifiable history. The documents were perfect, a necessary shield for his true goal: infiltrating the powerful Blue Umbrella Corporation.
Before Alen left, Damien gripped his shoulder. "What are you walking into, mate?"
"Don't worry about me," Alen said, pulling his friend into a firm embrace. "You're the only one who knows I'm breathing. I'll send word when I can."
---
Finding Jessica's Past
14 September 2011
Back in his old room, Alen's thoughts turned to his adoptive mother, Dr. Jessica R. Richard. He knew fragments of her story, but now he needed the whole truth. A deep curiosity drew him to her bedroom, a shrine to a quiet life filled with love. Photographs covered her dresser: Jessica with a young Alen, her wedding portrait with a man whose face was now just a blurry memory.
He searched her closet, and there, tucked beneath a stack of sweaters, he found it: her personal diary. He remembered how she would guard it fiercely, sometimes crying softly as she wrote. His hands trembled as he opened the worn leather cover. A cascade of old letters spilled onto the floor.
Gathering them, he sat at her desk. The letters were sent from a rural village in the Scottish Highlands, all from a woman named Amelia R. Richard. Who is this? he wondered. As he read the diary, a shocking truth unfolded. Amelia was Jessica's mother—his adoptive grandmother.
The letters were filled with cheerful questions about Jessica's husband and children, revealing a devastating lie. Jessica had never told her mother about her tragic life in London. She never mentioned her husband's death, the stillborn child she'd lost, or the boy she'd adopted. She had shouldered her grief alone to protect her mother's happiness.
Alen found a rusted photograph tucked in the diary: a young Jessica standing with a woman who shared her smile—Amelia. His decision was instant. He had to meet her.
He packed his few belongings, along with the diary and his new identity documents. He locked the house for the last time, hiding the key beneath Jessica's tombstone after a final, silent goodbye. He then posted a cryptic letter to Damien and began the journey north.
---
The Scottish Highlands
16 September 2011
The morning mist clung to the rolling hills as Alen arrived in the remote village. Following directions from a local shopkeeper, he found the address. It wasn't a simple house; it was a large, old building that functioned as a local hospital and private residence, emitting a sense of enduring Scottish strength.
A caretaker met him at the gate. "Can I help ye, lad?"
"I'm looking for Amelia R. Richard," Alen said.
The caretaker eyed him curiously before leading him to a small office. "Wait here."
Minutes later, the door opened. An elegant woman in her late seventies, dressed in a doctor's white coat, stood there. Her eyes, though lined with age, were sharp and intelligent.
"I'm Dr. Amelia Richard," she said, her voice warm but puzzled. "How can I help you?"
Alen stood, his heart pounding. "My name is Alen. I'm… I was the son of Jessica R. Richard."
Amelia's hand flew to her chest. She stepped closer, her eyes searching his face, and gently touched his cheek as if confirming he was real. "Jessica's boy? Oh, my dear child! How is she? How is my daughter? And her husband?"
The lie he had prepared felt like ash in his mouth. "I'm so sorry," Alen began softly, guiding her to a chair. "Her husband died in an accident, not long after I was born. And Jessica… she passed away. Ten years ago. Cancer."
Amelia's world shattered. The happy life she had imagined for her daughter collapsed into a void of guilt and shame. She wept, her elegant composure broken. "All this time… I was so busy here, building this hospital… I thought she was happy. She never wanted to worry me… and I never pushed. I failed her."
"You didn't," Alen said firmly, kneeling before her. "She loved you. She had a good life. She was a brilliant doctor who helped thousands of children in orphanages around the world. She was my mother, and she was everything to me."
He held her as she cried, letting decades of withheld grief finally flow. When her tears subsided, she cupped his face in her hands, a sad smile breaking through.
"My grandson," she whispered, the words filled with a painful joy. "I always wanted a grandson." She pulled him into a tight embrace, holding onto the last living piece of her daughter.