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Seven point eight million US dollars.
The number was a heavy boulder dropped into the small pond of the apartment. The ripples it stirred refused to settle, leaving the air so quiet that the rhythmic breathing of the four survivors sounded like a storm.
Leon S. Kennedy's Adam's apple bobbed. He looked at the thin document on the rug, then at his own scuffed police boots, and felt an overwhelming wave of absurdity. Sherry Birkin, the storm's center, simply sat there clutching her teddy bear. Her blue eyes were clear as glass, untainted by the weight of the fortune. To her, the money was just another cold, abstract concept in a world that had already taken everything tangible.
Claire was the first to move.
She took a deep breath, forcing the shock back down into her chest. Ignoring the paper, she knelt in front of Sherry, bringing herself level with the little girl.
"Sherry..." Her voice was a soft whisper, intended only for the child. "From now on, you have us. You aren't alone anymore."
She didn't mention the millions. She didn't mention the parents who were never truly there. She simply reached out and took Sherry's small, cold hand in her palm.
Sherry looked at Claire's face, then at the lingering conflict in Leon's eyes, and finally up at Noah. Noah gave her a gentle, knowing smile—not one of pity, but of total acceptance. The girl's tight lips finally relaxed. She nodded vigorously, as if sealing the most important contract of her life. A flicker of light, something that actually belonged to a child, rippled in her eyes.
"Mm!"
The softest part of Noah's heart was touched. He walked over and ruffed Claire's smooth red hair.
"Chris went to Europe," he said, his voice pulling them back to the reality of their situation. "Intelligence is fragmented, but Umbrella's most vital branch on the continent is in Paris."
Claire looked up, the tenderness in her eyes replaced by a razor-sharp edge. Paris. The location of her brother, and the heart of the enemy's Hive.
"That's the objective," Noah continued, his tone turning heavy. "But we have to be realistic. Do you think the two of us can just walk in there?"
He didn't need to finish the sentence. Claire's expression dimmed. A college student and an international student, with no backing, no authority, and identities that Umbrella could erase with a keystroke. Heading to Europe to kick in the door of a global conglomerate wasn't revenge; it was a suicide pact.
"So..." Leon finally broke his silence. "How did you get in touch with those suits? And this 'Mr. T'... who the hell is he?"
Noah turned to Leon, a teasing smirk dancing on his lips. "Take a wild guess who the middleman was."
Leon's mind raced. The interrogation room, the burning streets, the cold laboratory corridors—the images blurred until they froze on a single, beautiful face in a red qipao.
Leon's eyes widened. "You mean... Ada!"
"Exactly," Noah nodded, his expression turning sober. "Ada Wong. She came for the data, but she got sidelined by that injury. I made a move. I helped her get her prize out of the city, and in exchange, she gave me the keys to her network."
He paused, glancing at the laptop in the case. "The 'materials' I sent to Mr. T included everything: the Hive's internal schematics, first-hand biological data on the G and T strains, and the combat logs of the Tyrants and Birkin."
The data was worth exponentially more than a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. But for Noah, the cash was a side-hustle; what he really bought was a seat at the table with a force powerful enough to rival Umbrella.
"Noah... is it safe?" Claire gripped his hand, her palm slick with cold sweat. "Dealing with people like that?"
Noah squeezed her hand, using his warmth to steady her. He looked into her eyes with an intensity she'd never seen before. "It's for you, Claire."
Claire's breath hitched. Whatever argument she had died in her throat. She dove into Noah's arms, burying her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking with silent, relieved sobs. Noah patted her back, his gaze drifting over her shoulder to see Sherry peeking at them through her fingers.
Noah chuckled, whispering into Claire's ear. "We should probably find a bigger place. We can't keep Sherry squeezed in this little apartment with us."
Sherry's face turned bright red at the mention of her name. She waved her hands nervously. "No! No... I like it here! It's fine!"
Claire pulled back, her face tear-streaked but glowing with a happy smile. She looked at Noah and nodded. "Okay. I'll follow your lead."
"Hey! Are you guys serious?"
Leon's exaggerated shout shattered the moment. He looked at the couple and the peeking child with a mask of pure "disgust." "Is this how it's gonna be? No respect for the guy who just went bankrupt and totaled his car?"
Noah grinned at the "indignant" rookie. "Where are you staying anyway, Leon?"
Leon's bravado collapsed. He covered his face with his hands, his voice muffled and pathetic. "A rental... one room, one bath. It's a closet. A tiny, depressing closet."
Sherry watched Leon's dejected slouch, thought for a moment, and spoke up in her most helpful, serious voice. "Don't be sad, Leon. When we buy our big new house, we'll give you a big room of your own!"
Leon went silent. He squeezed a single sentence out from behind his fingers.
"...Sherry, you really know how to twist the knife."
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