A Who Done It

Chapter 2
Chapter 2

Chapter Description: The guests are stunned at the sudden Regression of their host

For a long, suspended moment no one spoke. The chandeliers above hummed faintly, their light steady once more, casting long shadows across the dining table. Outside, the storm lashed at the tall windows, rain streaking down in sheets while thunder grumbled over the sea.

In the high-backed chair at the head of the table, the infant shifted. His plump legs kicked against the upholstery, tiny fists waving as he babbled and cooed incoherently, nonsense syllables spilling from lips too small to form words. As he wiggled his chubby legs, his tiny willy bounced about, adding to the endearing spectacle of his movements. But those eyes — impossibly blue, glowing with an intensity far too sharp for a child — darted across the group.

Jessica’s voice cut through the silence, thin and disbelieving. “Okay… I did not expect that.”

Her words seemed to break the spell. Chairs scraped as people shifted uneasily. Sarah leaned forward, staring. “This is a trick, right? Some kind of sick joke?”

Dean forced a laugh that came out hollow. “Sure. A stunt. Some billionaire’s idea of entertainment.”

“No,” Jessica said, shaking her head. “Look at his eyes.”

A hush followed. Katy’s stomach lurched; she hadn’t wanted to admit it, but Jessica was right. Those piercing eyes were unchanged — Hugo Hawthorne’s eyes staring out from a baby’s face.

Still, she found herself clearing her throat softly. “I mean… a lot of babies have blue eyes,” Katy said, her voice quiet, almost apologetic. “It doesn’t have to mean—”

Her words faltered under the weight of the silence. The infant’s gaze swung toward her as if he’d heard, those unnaturally vivid irises glinting in the light.

Mark broke the moment with a harsh question, his voice taut with disbelief. “Then where the hell are his clothes? If this is a trick, fine, but explain that. Where’d they go?”

Katy swallowed, unable to tear her gaze from the infant. Her mind spun, stumbling over explanations that didn’t fit. Disbelief washed over her as she grappled with the impossible sight before her. Someone had actually regressed into a baby, and it was sitting right where Hugo had been moments before. Her secret desires, laid bare, left her questioning if this was real or a cruel illusion. Did they know her deepest fantasies? She couldn’t answer, couldn’t even move — only sit frozen, watching the baby babble, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and wonder.

The side doors banged open, making several guests flinch. Katy blinked as Carlos entered, carrying a silver tray laden with hors d’oeuvres.

“Is everyone alright?” Carlos asked, his tone crisp, though his eyes flicked warily toward the chandeliers above. “The storm must have knocked out the—”

His words died in his throat. The tray slipped from his hands, crashing to the floor in a scatter of broken crystal and scattered bites.

On the high-backed chair at the head of the table, the infant squirmed and gurgled, tiny fists batting the air.

“Master Hugo…” Carlos whispered hoarsely, rushing forward. He crouched beside the child, his normally impassive mask breaking into open panic. “What has happened? Who did this to you?” His eyes darted up to the assembled guests, sharp and accusing.

Dean half-rose from his chair, his voice harsh. “What do you mean who did this? Where’s Hugo? Why is there a naked baby where he was sitting?”

Carlos’s gaze narrowed, his jaw tight. “This is Hugo. He has been regressed.”

A ripple of disbelief shot around the table.

Sarah let out a strained laugh. “Oh, so that’s normal, is it? Adults turning into babies now?”

Mark muttered, shaking his head. “What the hell are you talking about? That’s insane.”

Before anyone could push further, the side doors opened again. Izabella swept in, her composure visibly shaken for the first time since Katy had met her. The moment her eyes fell on the infant in the chair, her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, mon dieu…" she breathed, hurrying across the room. "Hugo… they got you." She bent low, her ample breasts threatening to spill from her dress as she leaned over the baby, her arms hovering as though afraid to touch him, her eyes shining with something close to grief. "My poor little bébé. Who did this?" She turned, scanning each face at the table, her voice trembling with accusation.

Jessica’s chair scraped back sharply. “Wait, wait, wait—hold up.” Her voice cut through the mounting panic, pitched higher than usual. “Are you seriously telling us he’s invented something that turns people into babies—and you think one of us did it? What the hell is going on?”

Carlos rose slowly, his eyes still fixed on the infant’s impossibly blue gaze. His tone steadied, though it carried weight like stone. “Then it seems,” he said, “that you all deserve to know the truth.”

Izabella, her hands lingering on the baby’s shoulders, straightened with effort. “Yes. You explain.” Her voice was taut, urgent. “I will see to Master Hugo—get him dressed, get him calm.” She pressed a trembling kiss to the child’s forehead before lifting him from the chair her generous cleavage drawing the baby's gaze as he cooed softly her touch gentle and caring. The baby gave a soft coo, those glowing blue eyes flicking across the guests one by one, as though memorizing them, while nestled close to her large cleavage.

The guests sat frozen as Izabella swept from the dining room, the infant pressed tightly against her chest. She vanished without a word, the doors shutting softly behind her.

All eyes turned to Carlos.

He stood at the head of the table, his posture composed but thinner than usual. Slowly, he brought his birthmarked hand to his tie, straightening it before clearing his throat.

Flo, her voice small but steady, finally asked the question weighing on all of them. “Well… what is going on?”

Carlos exhaled. “Master Hugo has devoted much of his life — and nearly his entire fortune — to creating a device capable of altering the age of a living being. He calls it the Aeon Manipulator.”

Sarah shook her head, her laugh brittle. “That sounds like something out of a comic book.”

Dean leaned back, crossing his arms. “So what—you’re saying he built a time machine? That’s insane.”

Carlos’s eyes sharpened. “Not a time machine. The Aeon Manipulator doesn’t move a person through time. It manipulates their biology, rewriting their body’s age directly. It uses trillions of engineered nanites, injected into the bloodstream, each programmed to restructure human cells — accelerating or reversing them as commanded.”

The table fell silent again, the storm outside hammering at the glass.

Mark was the first to speak, his tone cutting. “Fine. Let’s say I buy this fairy tale for a second. Why was he naked? Where’d the clothes go?”

Carlos’s jaw flexed. “Because the process consumes matter in direct contact with the host. The nanites require immense energy to rewrite cells. Clothing, fabrics, even leather or metal close to the body are broken down at the molecular level — fuel for the transformation. It is… an unfortunate side effect Master Hugo never fully corrected.”

Katy felt her skin prickle. No wonder there had been nothing left on the chair — no shirt, no trousers, not even shoes. The Aeon Manipulator hadn’t just taken years from Hugo’s body. It had devoured everything around him to do it.

Carlos’s voice dropped, heavy with urgency. “If Master Hugo has been regressed, then the Aeon Manipulator has been stolen — or used by someone who should never have touched it. That means there is a thief among us.”

He straightened, his gaze sweeping the table, sharp and unblinking. “We cannot sit idle. The laboratory must be searched at once. Only there will we find the truth of who did this.”

Mark shoved back from the table, his chair scraping hard against the floor. “Well I’m not going to the lab. For all I know, one of you has this so-called device and could turn it on us.”

Jessica laughed sharply, folding her arms. “Oh please, can you hear yourselves? This is all some publicity stunt. That baby was just a baby, and Hugo’s making us look stupid. Where are the cameras? This has to be some kind of reality show.”

Dean leaned forward, eyebrows raised. “And they let naked babies on TV, do they?”

Jessica shot him a withering look. “No. They’ll blur that out, of course.”

The twins exchanged a glance, and voices around the table started to rise again — accusations, mocking retorts, nervous laughter.

“Enough!” Carlos’s voice cracked through the room like a whip. He stepped forward, slamming his palm flat against the table. “Will you all please stop arguing!”

The room fell silent under his glare. His hand went to his tie again, tugging it straight as he gathered himself. “Fine. You don’t have to believe me. But those who want the truth will follow me to the laboratory. The rest of you will stay here — and you will not leave the house.”

He lifted his other wrist, where a heavy, black-faced watch gleamed. With a press of his thumb against its side, a low metallic groan shook the walls. Gasps followed as every window in the dining room darkened — sheets of reinforced steel sliding down from hidden recesses, sealing them in.

“What is this?” Daniel demanded, pushing half-out of his chair.

Carlos’s eyes were cold. “That, sir, is reinforced alloy strong enough to withstand a bomb blast. This house is secure now. No one leaves. Not until I know who is responsible.”

His words seemed to hang in the air, the storm raging outside muffled now by the steel shutters. “We are all suspects,” he said finally, his voice low and deliberate. “Now… who is coming with me?”

The silence broke in fragments.

Katy’s pulse hammered, but she knew she couldn’t pass up the chance. “I’ll come,” she said quickly, her voice steadier than she felt.

“Me too,” Flo added softly, pushing her glasses up her nose. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, but her resolve was clear enough.

Mark snorted. “Not me. This is ridiculous. I’m heading to my room and locking the door.”

The twins exchanged another look, then Sarah shook her head. “I think we’re staying put.” Dean nodded in agreement, though his eyes still flicked nervously toward the sealed windows.

Daniel stood smoothly, brushing invisible lint from his blazer. “I’ll go,” he said, his voice calm but his jaw tight.

Jessica rolled her eyes. “No chance. I’m heading to the bar. If this farce is going to drag on, I’ll need another drink.”

Very well,” Carlos said sharply, his voice cutting across the room. “Stay to the rooms you’ve already been shown. If I catch any of you wandering into other parts of the house, you can spend the rest of the evening outside in the storm.” His dark eyes flicked over the guests who had chosen to remain. “The rest of you — follow me.”

With that, he turned and led Katy, Flo, and Daniel out through the same side door he and Izabella had entered from earlier.

The corridor beyond was long and faintly lit, the air warmer here. A savory scent drifted to them, rich and mouthwatering — roasted meat, herbs, something buttery. Katy’s stomach twisted in sudden protest. She hadn’t realized until now how hungry she was.

“Smells incredible,” Daniel remarked. “Could definitely use a plate.”

“Same,” Flo added softly, pressing her hands together as if to still her nerves.

But Carlos’s curt voice cut them off. “We will eat when we understand what has happened. Not before.”

He pushed ahead, ignoring the open doorway to a kitchen that glowed invitingly, the scent even stronger within.

Katy stole one last longing glance at the room as they passed, then followed.

At the end of the hall, Carlos stopped before what looked like nothing more than a painting. A Greek figure — a young woman with flowing robes, offering a cup to a falcon perched on her hand. Beneath it, the title read Hebe.

Before either Katy or Flo could ask, Carlos pressed the falcon’s wing with a practiced hand.

A heavy thud echoed behind the walls. The grinding of gears followed, deep and mechanical, as the section of wall shuddered and slid inward, then rotated aside like a hidden vault door.

The space beyond glowed with pale white light.

Katy’s breath caught.

The laboratory was spotless, its walls seamless and gleaming. Machines hummed faintly, their displays pulsing with cold blues and greens. Counters were lined with instruments she couldn’t name, precise and gleaming like they’d just been sterilized. At the center of the room stood a glass case, lit from within, its contents displayed like a relic in a museum.

Carlos strode directly to it, his shoes sharp against the pristine floor.

“What the hell…” His voice cracked, rising in alarm.

Daniel stepped up beside him, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“The device.” Carlos gestured to the glass. Inside, resting on a sleek pedestal, was something that looked deceptively simple — no larger than a mobile phone. Its smooth, black surface gleamed under the light, a display screen alive with faint symbols, several recessed buttons along its side. The design was clean, impossibly modern, and yet alien all the same.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Katy asked, peering closer.

Carlos hesitated. “Yes… and no. It means we can restore Master Hugo. But it also means someone else has another controller. A twin unit. And that should not be possible.”

Flo’s eyes widened. “How could anyone even have one? Wouldn’t he keep it locked up?”

“I don’t know,” Carlos muttered, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know how.”

“Then let’s just use this one,” Daniel said firmly. “Fix Hugo. Get this insanity over with.”

Carlos shook his head. “We can’t. The device has a failsafe lock. Only Master Hugo knows the combination.”

Flo folded her arms, voice brittle. “Well, know many six-month-olds who can rattle off a password?”

Carlos’s gaze flickered. “That would be true under normal circumstances,” he said quietly, almost to himself. The weight of the words lingered, but he gave no further explanation.

Katy and Flo exchanged a glance, unease threading between them.

“Look around,” Carlos ordered suddenly, his voice snapping back into command. “Search for anything out of place. I will go to Master Hugo’s room. Do not touch the device. Do not touch anything.”

With that, he strode toward a side door in the lab, leaving the three of them staring at the gleaming case — and the ominous little machine inside.

Katy trailed her fingers along the edges of a desk cluttered with neatly stacked folders. Curiosity tugged stronger than caution, and she eased one open.

The header alone made her blink: “Neural Regression Nanites – Containment & Delivery Protocols”.

She skimmed the pages, though the dense jargon tangled her understanding. The gist was clear enough: the nanites weren’t self-sufficient. They required a carrier — a chemical medium introduced into food or drink — that allowed them to bind to cells once ingested. One margin note underlined the words “dairy suspension most effective” several times.

Katy swallowed, flipping further. More reports, each stamped with corporate letterheads: Aurelia Dynamics Incorporated. The name appeared again and again in connection to “interference” and “breach of data security.”

Another file bore a different seal: Harrington & Voss LLP. Legal correspondence, full of redacted lines and stiff, formal warnings about intellectual property, hostile injunctions, and threats of injunctions against Hawthorne’s work. Even with her limited knowledge, Katy could see these were battles fought in courtrooms as much as in labs.

She leaned closer, trying to parse the fine print about “unauthorized replication attempts,” but her thoughts tangled. Whoever Aurelia Dynamics were, they had tried to pry open Hawthorne’s secrets — and Harrington & Voss had been their weapon.

Her concentration broke when a hand touched her shoulder lightly. She gasped and spun around to see Flo beside her.

“Find anything?” Flo asked, eyebrows raised.

Katy clutched the file, startled. “I… I don’t really understand it,” she admitted. “Something about nanites, chemicals, patents. Companies interfering. It’s all… a lot.”

Flo frowned, glancing at the papers. “Do you think any of this is real? I mean, look at us — locked in a mansion, told a baby is our host… maybe Jessica’s right, maybe it is some elaborate stunt.”

Katy shook her head, her eyes drifting back to the diagrams. “If it’s a stunt, it’s a terrifyingly detailed one.”

They both looked across the lab to where Daniel was crouched at another workstation, examining a row of instruments.

“Daniel,” Katy called softly. “See anything we’ve missed?”

He stood slowly, brushing invisible dust from his blazer. His expression was guarded, halfway between skepticism and belief. “I see a lot of expensive equipment and a lot of very neat lies. Could be real, could be theatre. Until we test it, who’s to say?”

Flo crossed her arms. “So what, we just pretend this is all for show?”

Daniel gave a small shrug. “I’m saying we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Best we meet back with the others before we get too lost in theories.”

The three of them stepped back into the corridor, the faint hum of machines spilling out from the hidden laboratory. The stone panel hadn’t closed; it remained yawning open, a slice of stark white light bleeding into the dim hallway. Katy glanced back once, uneasily. The idea of leaving Hugo’s secret chamber unsealed made her stomach twist, but Carlos had rushed off and none of them knew how to shut it again.

The smell of food hit them next — roasted meat, herbs, rich gravy. It was a welcome contrast to the sterile tang of the lab. Flo’s stomach growled audibly, and she laughed nervously. “Okay… now I realize how hungry I actually am.”

They followed the scent down the corridor and pushed through into the kitchen. There, at the long prep table, Sarah and Dean were already helping themselves, plates in hand. Sarah was dishing vegetables onto hers while Dean carved a slab of meat, stealing bites with his fingers.

“We couldn’t help ourselves,” Sarah said quickly, cheeks pink as though caught stealing. “It just smelled way too good.”

Dean shrugged, grinning. “Better to be full before the next round of madness, right?”

Katy, Flo, and Daniel didn’t argue. Hunger overruled suspicion. Soon the three of them were plating food of their own, the clink of cutlery echoing in the otherwise quiet kitchen.

Together, all five carried their plates back into the dining room. The tall windows that once looked out onto the storm were now sealed by thick panels of reinforced metal. Beyond them, thunder still rumbled faintly, a deep vibration that seemed to shudder through the walls. The outside world was hidden completely — no wind, no rain, only the muffled reminder that the storm still raged somewhere far beyond their sight.

This time, no one waited for ceremony. Chairs scraped and they sat where they liked, passing dishes across the table, finally eating.

“God, I needed this,” Dean sighed, leaning back with a satisfied groan. He stabbed another forkful of roast potato and chewed happily.

Sarah leaned forward, elbows on the table. “So,” she asked, eyes flicking between Katy, Flo, and Daniel, “what exactly did you see down there? In the lab?”

Flo set her fork down, hesitating. “It was… strange. There was this device, locked in a glass case. Carlos called it the Aeon Manipulator. He said Hugo built it to alter ages. But here’s the thing—” her voice dropped slightly—“Carlos also said if Hugo’s was still there, then someone else has a copy. Which means one of us could have it.”

The twins exchanged uneasy glances. Dean gave a skeptical snort, but Sarah just frowned and pushed her plate away as though suddenly queasy.

Daniel swirled the wine in his glass before leaning toward Katy. “And what about you? What do you think of all this?”

Katy pressed her lips together, thinking carefully. “I’ve never known Hugo Hawthorne to want the spotlight. He’s never been the kind of man who’d set up some elaborate reality show. So no, I don’t think this is a stunt.” She glanced around the table, lowering her voice. “But something weird is going on. And it isn’t just about him turning into a baby. I keep wondering—what’s the connection between us? Why are we the ones here?”

Flo nodded grimly, as if Katy had put words to what she’d been thinking herself.

Then, reaching for the gravy boat, Flo tipped it too quickly. A hot stream splashed across Katy’s sleeve and skirt.

“Oh my god!” Flo yelped, nearly dropping the pot. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t realize it was still that hot!”

Dean burst out laughing, Sarah covering her mouth to stifle her own giggle. “Classic dinner disaster,” Dean managed between chuckles.

Katy dabbed at her clothes with a napkin, wincing at the sting but managing a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, honestly. I’ve got spares upstairs. I’ll just go change quickly.”

“Do you need someone to come with you?” Daniel asked smoothly, setting his glass down.

Katy shook her head. “No. I’ll be fine. Won’t be long.”

She pushed her chair back, the legs scraping faintly against the floor, and slipped out of the dining room, leaving the others in a hush broken only by the clatter of cutlery and the faint rumbles of thunder pressing against the sealed windows.

Katy slipped out of the dining room quietly, the low murmur of voices fading behind her as the heavy doors eased shut. She drew a slow breath, steadying herself.

The corridor was dimly lit, sconces flickering under the strain of the storm battering the house. As she passed the drawing room where she had first met the others, her eyes caught a familiar figure. Jessica sat slouched in one of the armchairs by the fire, a half-empty glass in her hand. She didn’t even glance up as Katy walked by. Not wanting to invite any awkwardness, Katy lowered her gaze and continued on in silence.

Her footsteps carried her back toward the staircase. The polished wood groaned faintly under her weight as she climbed, each creak echoing like a warning. She paused on the landing, thunder cracking outside so violently that the very windows rattled.

That was when she heard it.

A faint, wavering cry. The wail of an infant.

Her heart leapt into her throat. Hugo? she thought instinctively. But the sound hadn’t come from the dining room or anywhere near the lab. It was close—upstairs, in the east wing.

She followed it hesitantly, the cries growing clearer as she moved down the hall. Then she saw it.

Mark’s door was ajar, just enough for the light within to spill onto the hallway carpet. Slowly, carefully, Katy edged closer, her pulse thundering in her ears.

She pushed the door open a fraction more and froze. On the floor, lying on his back with his tiny legs kicking helplessly in the air, was a baby. Younger than Hugo had been—much younger. His limbs were so small, his body soft and fragile, his skin flushed pink as he wailed. And he was naked, as bare as the day he was born, his little willy pointing straight up in the air. Drool and spit bubbled around his mouth, glistening in the dim light, as his tiny hands wiggled and his legs flailed, the pitiful cry echoing through the room. Katy went rigid in the doorway, her breath catching in her throat. The resemblance wasn’t exact, but something about the child unsettled her — and then she saw his eyes.

They were glowing, just like Hugo’s had been. Not the same piercing blue, but a deep, burning brown that seemed to shine unnaturally in the lamplight, alive with a strange intensity no infant should possess.

Mark?" Katy asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes locked on the infant. And what she thought she saw was the eyes of the infant respond, a flicker of recognition or awareness passing through those tiny, helpless features. But just then, a sudden stream of urine escaped his little penis, shooting comically into the air, The baby started to wail again, his tiny fists pounding against the carpet in frustration and discomfort, his tiny body convulsing with the force of his cries.