My nephew, James, arrived a few months before my son. While my children were confined in a room with padded walls and limited access, I witnessed James's growth. Triplets Joshua, Lucas, Grayson, and another set of twins, Wesley and Johnathan, soon followed. Although uncertain about their parentage, I cared for them like my own.

I rarely saw my children after that unless one escaped their room and desperately sought Danielle or me. Max, my clever child, ran many times within two weeks to find me. I would let him sit on my lap while I worked on my research on the supergene until Alex discovered him and took him away again.

That changed when I started bringing Derek and James with me to work. Unfortunately, Max began influencing them to interact with the dangerous experiments in the room. Max occasionally got to spend time with me, albeit under Alex's watchful eye from the security tower. He was my little troublemaker, always up to mischief.

One day, James, around six and a half years old, encountered Max in the room. James was energetically racing around while I was stuck at my desk, attempting to locate some research articles Max had accidentally deleted moments before Matthew dropped off his son.

James halted in front of several small test tubes on the corner of the white slab tables and curiously inspected them. "James Everett Knight, be careful!" I called out, concerned that my brother's child might knock something over.

"Uncle Sam, I'm a superhero!" he squealed, jumping up and down, using his hoodie as a makeshift cape as he continued darting around the room. Anxiety welled up inside me, fearing a panic attack.

I glanced at the computer's clock, occasionally stealing glances at James before refocusing on my research, ignoring Max, who had rushed into the room, hoping to befriend James. Max observed me for a while, pacing back and forth near my desk before returning to James. He waved at me, attempting to capture my attention, but I was too engrossed in my notes.

James had a test tube clutched in his tiny hand within seconds—the crucial experiment I had been working on for years. I watched Max motion to James, encouraging him to drink it, and panic gripped me. I dropped my papers and hurried over to James before he could consume the contents, but it was too late.

With James in my arms, I screamed his name, shaking him vigorously. My gaze shifted to my son, Max, who stood watching momentarily before anger consumed my troubled mind.

"Go, Max! Get out of here!" I shouted at him in a fit of rage. Max regarded me with sad eyes as he meekly retreated to a nearby corner, aware that he had done something wrong. He was just a child who didn't know any better, but I was too overwhelmed to console him, hold him, and explain that mistakes happen and it's okay. I believed I would never see my son again.

"James!" I cried repeatedly, attempting to rouse him. "James... James... James..." I shook him again, but he remained unresponsive no matter how hard I tried. I watched my nephew's pallid complexion, his lips turning purple. The sound of heavy footsteps neared. Desperation and the hope of preventing James from suffering the same fate as my other children compelled me to bolt out of the room with James, still lifeless in my arms, racing down the hallway and bursting through the doors to freedom within seconds.

The city streets whizzed by in a blur. I could barely recognize anything since my last departure from the facility. I scoured the entire area, traversing the main streets frantically. I narrowly avoided being hit by a bus but pressed on. In the distance, I spotted a small hospital. James was deteriorating rapidly, so I barged through the doors in a panic, clutching James and exclaiming, "He needs a doctor!"

A hospital nurse, noticing James' blue lips, swiftly extracted him from my arms and hurriedly placed him on an available bed. "Code blue! Code blue!" the nurse shouted, alerting the medical staff as they worked swiftly to remove his clothing, attach monitors, and administer oxygen. The doctor inquired, "How long has he been like this, sir?"

"Just a few minutes," I answered in a panic. "I left James unattended, and he drank something..."

"What did he drink?" the doctor asked me.

"I... I don't know," I replied, helplessly watching them insert an IV into James's arm. Memories flooded my mind—Alexander and Garrison did the same for me. I stepped away from the room, taking deep breaths to prevent a hyperventilation episode while my stomach churned with unease.

"Are you all right, sir?" another nurse discovered me standing far from the room. I inhaled sharply, attempting to steady my breath.

"Yeah," I lied. "I'm fine."

Soon, the doctor joined me, carrying a notepad and pen. "What is your relationship with the child?" he inquired.

"I'm his uncle," I responded, slightly relieved. "I was looking after him, but I momentarily lost sight of him when he drank..."

The doctor interrupted me, urging me to take a breath. "You're not in trouble, sir. I need to know what he drank."

"I... I don't know. I swear," I stammered.

"Do you know where your brother is so I can speak with him?"

"I don't, and I left my cell phone at my desk," I admitted, breathing rapidly once again as anxious thoughts raced through my mind.

"Sam?" I heard my name being called from a distance. I turned around to find Dexter, dressed as a paramedic, pushing an empty gurney into the hospital.

"Dex?" I uttered, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Suddenly, my panic subsided, replaced by bewildered excitement.

"I didn't think I'd see you again. What are you doing here?" Dexter inquired.

"My nephew, he..."

"Code blue stabilized," a nurse announced. The group of doctors exited the room.

"Oh no," Dexter murmured.

"Yep." I bit my lip.

"I hope he's all right." Silence enveloped us. "How's Matthew?"

"He's doing well," I lied, uncertain since we had communicated little before this incident.

"That's good. And how are Danielle and your daughter?" he continued.

"They're great," I replied, listening to Dexter tap the side of the empty gurney.

"Dexter," the other paramedic called his name.

"I, um, have to go. I hope everything turns out well for your nephew..." He paused, leaving the sentence open-ended.

"James."

"James," he repeated. "It was nice seeing you again, Sam."

"Yeah, you too," I said.

"Sam? SAM!" James's voice called out to me. I hurried into the room, my eyes widening as I saw James floating halfway to the ceiling.

"How are you doing this?" I exclaimed in shock. James wavered in the air as I paced anxiously, biting at my hangnails.

"I... I don't know," he stumbled through the air, laughing nervously.

"Damn," I cursed, hoping he hadn't heard me. Then I glanced at the doorway, promptly shutting it closed and ensuring it was securely latched. "James, can you bring yourself down from there?" I asked, my voice quivering.

"I can try," he replied, exhaling profoundly and yawning.

He closed his eyes and concentrated, mimicking my actions. Suddenly, he lost his balance, plummeted from the sky, and collided with the bed frame, causing it to crumble. That was the moment I realized I was in serious trouble. My nephew possessed superpowers, and it was all my fault. My brother was going to be furious with me.