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... orld above. Dust swirled in the faint beam of light spilling through a grimy window, illuminating a chaos of forgotten experiments—rusted tools, scattered papers, echoes of my father’s dreams.
I knelt among them, my fingers brushing the worn pages of his notebooks. Each scribbled equation was a lifeline, a tether to the man they’d branded a killer. But I knew the truth: Dad wasn’t a monster. He was a visionary. And I swore it upon my life, that I’d prove it, even if it cost me everything ...
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