I turned off the key and hushed the engine one last time after I parked my car right outside the estate gates. Warm and golden, the setting sun poured orange light across the driveway, but it never quite got to penetrate me. Not where it counted.
I went outside. My leather soles tapped deliberately and steady against the rock. One of the housekeepers dashed to greet me as the tall iron gates gradually swung open.
Where is my father? I questioned without pause.
In the Innovation Room, sir.
I gave her my bag. Bring this to my room. Be wary as well. You realize your income wouldn't even pay for one shattered lens, correct?
I get, sir; she stumbled.
I didnt wait till she finished. Id got accustomed to folks flinching as I went by.
After getting around the bright marble staircase, I pressed the private elevator's button. With a light ding, the doors opened. I pressed the key-coded button marked L2, a floor not shown on any designs.
The doors snapped shut.
And so did everything tender, everything human along with it.
More than simply a cellar, the Salvartes Innovation Room was the buried heartbeat of our family heritage. Projected from floor-to-ceiling screens were codes, surveillance feeds, satellite maps. Holographic models suspended in the air shimmered with biometric data and wireframes. That was the only location in this house where my dad felt alive.
And there he was.
Standing close to a display table, sleeves rolled to his elbows, he was looking at one of the drones hovering silently in the air. No hellos. Without eye contact. Nothing but expectations and quiet.
Report, he stated, his voice very sharp.
Straight-backed, I moved forward. This morning the prototype drone arrived at the Bangkok branch. Integration testing has started for them. Early feedback is functional in adaptive response, auto-recon, and positivethermal scans.
At last he turned. His eyes were steel cold.
And the changes to the concealing device?
Past ten minutes of operation, it's still unstable and the artificial intelligence overheats.
His jaw clenched. Unacceptable. I need it working by the next cycle.
Yes, sir.
He went to a different console and tapped the screen. Business executives, professors, politicians, and others linked to the global intelligence or high-risk data fields were among the targets highlighted.
Are there any changes to Subject Theta?
That name.
I immediately didn't respond.
He spun leisurely. You are once more stalling.
I gulped the ball in my throat. Dad is not only a subject; she
He squeezed his eyes. You have no say in who is or is not a subject.
I kept my footing; she poses no danger.
He snapped; everyone is a possible danger until proven otherwise. You had a task; you have postponed long enough; are you emotionally damaged?
That question made me feel disgusted.
I resented how it revealed the very thing I had worked to conceal since this project started.
Trixy.
The girl who grinned bravely while concealing her anguish. The girl who composed music to calm my storm. The girl who reminded me what warmth felt like—without really trying.
She is different. I stopped.
His eyes fixed on mine, he came closer. Let me be unequivocal: you were made for this job. This point has come from every lesson, every test, every second of your life. There is no room for sentimentality in leadership. Sentiment causes uncertainty, which reduces power.
I fixed his eyes. My heart pounded in my ears.
He was not only my father. He helped me to build my identity. Every cold order, every suppressed hug, every second of quiet had been precisely planned to mold me into his replacement.
I said I was just readjusting, not hesitating.
Prove it next then.
He turned away from me, waving me away with a flick of his wrist. Youre excused.
Without another word, I departed the Innovation Room.
The stress in my chest was crippling by the time the elevator hit the main floor. My strides felt heavier as if each one bore the burden of betrayal of his purpose. . . and my own heart.
I slammed the door behind me as I wandered down the hall toward my room. The noise of the Salvartes name faded from the world, replaced by the faint buzz of my laptop on the desk.
I sat on my bed and opened it.
She was there.
My wall's cover.
Trixy, mid-laugh, hair wind-blown, trapped in a moment the universe had neglected to be malicious. That picture was from a band rehearsal. She hadnt seen it. Perhaps she had, but she never disclosed anything.
I considered the picture over great length of time.
I murmured, do you know what you mean to me? I am not sure I have grasped it myself.
I opened the brown Innovation Room envelope I had carried up.
Inside were timestamps, photographs, routine surveillance reports on Trixy, and other papers. Her timetable for class. Her band rehearsal. Her circle of friends. Her documented emotional patterns.
I stared at the sheets for a long time, then pushed them away angrily.
I simply couldnt continue with this.
She wasnt data. She was not a mission.
She was the first genuine thing in my shadowy life.
A knock broke my concentration.
Sir? Dinner is prepared once more by the housekeeper.
I have no desire to eat.
She said to let you know your sister will be joining tonight.
Let her know I'm occupied.
The door shut back.
Leaning forward, I buried my face in my hands.
Was this who I wanted to be? My father's successor? The cold strategist? The manipulator? The liar?
Or was there still something soft left in me?
Once more I reached for the envelope and this time pulled out the last paper.
A instruction for a task.
Simple and clear.
"Get close. Gain trust. Gather information. Break ties. "
My throat dried.
The last line sounded in my head like a yell.
I lacked the ability to do it.
I was unable to damage her.
I'm not going to.
I tucked the order back in after folding it. I shut my computer and kept looking at her happy face on the screen.
Trixy, you're not my goal, I said quietly.
You are my anchor, my reminder that there is something better than this harsh empire.
I got up and went towards the window. The estate grounds spanned enormous perfect hedges, artificial calm. Yet it was all a fortress.
A cage created entirely of beauty.
Pressing my forehead against the glass, I murmured a promise.
Whatever he says, I will shield you. Even if it means abandoning everything I was taught.
Love causes?
actual love?
It not counts. It doesnt meddle.
It just is.