For the first time in his life, Jarod truly began to mourn the copious losses he'd accumulated over the years. He sobbed uncontrollably, as he clung to Sydney's shirt for dear life while he buried his head into his mentor's chest. It was heartbreaking to observe yet a sense of relief filled Miss Parker as she watched her husband and best friend finally beginning to let go of all the hurt he'd just been covering up with bigger Band-Aids over the years.

Suddenly exhausted and feeling each and every ache and pain of her battered body, she collapsed into the chair she had been standing next to, still unashamedly watching the scene before her.

Looking lost, Jarod's mother stood a little way off to the side, her face drawn and lined with her own hidden grief.

Miss Parker leaned her head back and closed her eyes to rest for a minute.

When she opened her eyes again, she was down in the Centre's infirmary. She panicked momentarily, when she thought about danger of sweepers and the dead Triumvirate leader upstairs.

Somehow during that chaotic maelstrom of thoughts she fell asleep again.

Sometime later, despite the drowsiness, she gradually realized that someone was sitting by her bedside. It took her a few minutes to will her eyes open, to force her body not to fall asleep again.

Instinctively, her eyebrows rose when she was who it was.

Margaret.

Jarod's mother must've realized her unasked question because she indicated with her head to the left.

"He's sleeping."

It was enough for her. Her next question was left hanging in her mind as she slipped back into blessed unconsciousness.

She finally managed to push herself upright against the pillow 3 days later. Befitting her character, she was irritated with her own body's weakness. Aggravated she couldn't stand on her own two feet. and infuriated that her sense of control and independence were entirely dependent on her own body's timeline in its ability to heal.

At least she wasn't falling asleep every 2 minutes.

That should at least count for something.

The curtains moved and like a specter Margaret reappeared, her hand hesitantly stalling against the sheer fabric.

"What day is it?"

Miss Parker was surprised that she managed the question, even more so that she had asked.

Despite the thousands of remaining unanswered questions, she actually hadn't exchanged a word with Jarod's mother since she found her sitting by his bedside.

"Wednesday."

Miss Parker nodded, her hands smoothing the blanket across her lap. Margaret shifted slightly, indecision clearly etched on her face. Just when it seemed as if she was turning to leave, Miss Parker asked the question that had been burning inside her ever since she had entered the Tower room and set her eyes upon the aftermath.

"Why?"

"My father and your grandfather were friends long before they knew about the scrolls. About any of this madness that is the Centre and the Triumvirate. From what I could gather from my mother and …other sources… is that when they realized that the scrolls existed, they both went searching for them.

You know the story of your grandfather. How he killed his family and left Carthis for the States. How he founded the Centre.

What you don't know is that my father founded the Triumvirate. They did this because for some insane reason, they believed the prophesies that the scrolls had foretold. Between them, they had planned out the future for all involved.

Your grandfather had planned to hone your father to be the chairman. But as a child, Mr. Raines was sickly and weak; unlike Mr. Parker, the man he got to play stand-in as your father your whole life. So he gave Mr. Raines away. But as you know your surrogate father was infertile. Another blemish but your grandfather was determined that you had to be born. So he had Mr. Raines' sperm implanted into your mother and you were conceived to his great delight. Even more so when he realized that you were part of a twin. He envisioned a plan for your brother that Mr. Raines implemented as soon as your brother was born. Whisked away from the Centre and any influence that your mother could've had on your brother. You know the rest.

Your grandfather died thinking his master plan was in place.

My father meanwhile started the Triumvirate in South Africa. The Zulu's are a proud nation. A warrior nation. So, according to what he had read in the scrolls, he selected two of the best Zulu men he could found that was devoid of empathy. Two men who were after power and money. With my father as leader, the Triumvirate grew silently and with a reputation as ruthless as Hitler's death squads.

When I was born, my father knew that when I had a son what he would do to him. As I grew up, he would tell me repeatedly, his conviction that it would all be for the common good for everyone still ringing hollow in my ears. It was a like a religion to him and he was trying to convert me, rather brainwash me. My mother had left shortly after I was born. I never met her and I'm convinced that she had in fact been murdered by my father.

For a while I believed him. Wanted to believe him that I would be like Mary, giving birth to a savior for the world. I felt special. I was willing to do anything to please him. Wanted him to love me. To show him that he could be proud of me.

One day, while he was away on a business trip I went to his study, searching for a book that I had inadvertently left there the previous week. I remember the day all too well. It was early morning, the sun had barely risen. The wood-paneled room smelled of him, the musky tobacco he liked to smoke in that old meerschaum pipeand the warm deep aroma of the whiskey he liked to drink. My book wasn't on the chair were I'd left it, so, thinking perhaps he'd left it on his desk, I went looking.

Instead I found an open folder on his desk. That day I had thought that he'd left it by mistake. I know better now. It had been all part of his plan. He had wanted me to read what was inside that folder. Had wanted to set things in motion for his so-called master plan.

The Centre shall rise. The Chosen will be found, a boy named Jarod…

It was the first words of the prophesy. As I read more, I started to realize what my father was planning. And what my involvement would be in it.

That was the day I realized how true evil can exist in people. As soon as my father returned home, I confronted him.

I've never seen him that angry. I feared for my life even though I knew he needed me for his plans. He told me that if I had wanted to go to a university in the states, I had to promise him my first born despite knowing the truth of what he'd do to him. Had read about his plans for my child. Or what his future would entail.

Please…You must understand. I would've promised him anything just to get away. I thought that if I disappeared he wouldn't be able to find me. Wouldn't be able to ask for his pound of flesh. And for a while it seemed like it worked.

As soon as I had gotten to the states, I went off radar. I didn't go to the campus, didn't register for my degree plan. I simply went off grid. I had thought myself save from his reach.

I met Jarod's father in the diner where I worked. He was a pilot, recently graduated. I fell for him albeit I had promised myself I would never marry. Never have children.

We got married 2 years later, a small ceremony. just his parents and us. He wanted children. For a brief time I seriously debated telling him about my father and his threats about any children I would have. But I was young and frightened. I didn't want to lose Charles.

You can imagine my delight when I released that we couldn't naturally conceive children. And for a while we consoled ourselves and had a happy uneventful marriage. But then some of Charles' friends had children and I realized even with my father's promises hanging like a sword over me, I also yearned to have small feet pitter patter all over the house. For children's laughter to fill our yard. My maternal instinct won over.

With Charles, I felt secure.

I felt safe.

Charles heard about NuGenesis. I thought it a mistake but despite my misgivings we went. I had no way of knowing that the Centre owned NuGenesis.

Or that my father was in any way related to the Centre.

The day I saw the pink stripe was the happiest day of my life. Jarod was busy growing inside me while the NuGenesis people kept careful watch. My father knew of the developing pretender as well. He must've been ecstatic.

His plan was coming to fruition even though I had fought him on it.

You should've seen Charles' face when Jarod was born. I had wanted to call my son Samuel but Charles had his heart set on 'Jarod.' I couldn't believe it. How could possibly be the exact same name as in the scrolls? He even spelled it that same odd way – with an "o." Apparently it was his grandfather's name. A family name, no less.

I couldn't resist my husband and although the words I had read still echoed in my mind, I surrendered my own insecurities and fears and agreed to name him Jarod. As I looked down at my beautiful infant son sleeping in my arms, I made a silent promise that his grandfather would never find him. Would never know about his existence.

Obviously I failed.

Every year I had to bring Jarod back to NuGenesis. For us to conceive, we had to sign a contract stating we agreed to bring Jarod for a few tests on his birthday. By then, we were desperate; the inconvenience was minor. Plus, I could never have predicted how a yearly visit could have threatened our security or in any way be interconnected with my father.

We settled not far out of Blue Cove where we developed a warm camaraderie with the Parkers and that's when I became very good friends with your mother. I thought the Centre was a place where altruistic work was being done. I never entirely trusted your father, but it wasn't until one day when Catherine inadvertently let it slip that the Centre did business with an outfit from Africa called the Triumvirate that it all made sense. I was shocked. What a stupid idiot I'd been. All those years I'd hidden from my father and there I was on his doorstep. How could I have forgotten – The Centre was in the Scrolls. "The Centre Shall Rise…" It was such a common word that I'd never made the connection.

I was absolutely petrified. I fabricated some story about the sea air and allergies and we moved to Michigan onto a farm. I felt save again even though I missed Catherine.

Three days after his fourth birthday Jarod was kidnapped. Taken from his room in the middle of the night.

Charles was devastated.

I knew who it was. Knew that the police would find nothing. Knew that our efforts would be in vain.

I called Catherine. I don't know how but something inside me convinced me that Jarod would be at the Centre. We went looking for him and I found him all alone in a big room within a glass case. Like some animal on display.

I couldn't save him.

My father knew I'd come looking. He'd been waiting for us. He told me if I ever returned, he would kill Jarod in front of me.

I believed him.

It was the last time I saw my son. The next time I'd see him would be in Boston, with sweepers behind him. I panicked. Emily was with me in the car and I just closed the door and escaped, knowing that the Centre's men was there, waiting for him. It was the hardest thing I had done. But not for my father...

I went back to Charles. We tried to move on. We mourned the loss of our son. Charles still kept on searching, kept on phoning the police for any leads. Kyle was born and for a little while Jarod's brother kept the heartache at bay.

And exactly four years after his birth he was stolen.

Just like Jarod.

Except this time they took him in broad daylight.

The police started questioning us about the disappearance of our sons. They thought that we might've been involved. That we had killed them and buried them somewhere.

I knew the truth. I knew that it was my father again.

I phoned him. Pleaded with him to at least let me have Kyle back. He wouldn't relent. I then threatened him about going to the FBI. I remember the silence over the phone.

And then his voice. Low and quiet.

The FBI will do nothing. The key people belong to us. Contact them and you sign the death warrant on Charles, Kyle and Jarod and anyone else you had ever been friends with.

Once again I acceded. I didn't want my husband dead. I didn't want my children dead. I didn't want my friends to suffer for my stupidity.

Charles changed.

Two years later I found out I was pregnant. Without any help from NuGenesis. We went on the run. Emily was born in a small room above a barn on a farm of a friend of mine. We knew we had to keep her safe. We never settled anywhere long enough to make friends.

Somehow, when Jarod was nearly ten Charles found out about the Centre. Your mother and I had been busy with our own plans to save Jarod and the other children. I had found out that the folder I had read on my father's table had only been a copy.

The real scrolls were still out there somewhere. We were searching for it, sure that it would be a bargain point with them for the children. That night your mother had told me that Mr. Raines was blackmailing her to fake her own death. I remember the anguish she had felt at leaving you but she had no choice.

A month later I heard from sources that she had been killed. That Charles might've been responsible. My dear ignorant husband had gone to rescue Jarod but instead got shot. I remember the overwhelming fear that my father would believe that it had been me that had tried something. We split soon after he healed, believing that it was too dangerous to stay together. I was relieved. It meant that I didn't have to explain about my family, about the scrolls and about my search for them.

Emily stayed with me as I kept on running, keeping her out of my father's long reach.

Until the day when the Centre found me and brought me here.

All this pain because my father had believed in words that had been written by some insane monk in a monastery long ago.

Because Jarod had always been the key to him realizing his thirst for power and greed. "