The incident report sat on Ethan Thorne's desk, a stark white rectangle against the dark glass. He'd read it twice. Alex Moretti's handwriting was neat, factual, devoid of embellishment. *Technician reported occupant trapped in VR chamber... Primary override malfunction... Technician indicated imminent risk due to occupant's claustrophobia... Accessed manual release panel using personal multi-tool... Successfully activated emergency release... Secured panel after...*
Simple. Efficient. Undeniably effective. Ethan traced the words with a finger. *"Personal multi-tool."* A janitor carrying specialized tools. Drawing on construction experience. Solving a problem Thorne's own protocols and personnel had fumbled. The image of Alex, calm and focused under pressure, replacing the panel cover while Security interrogated him, replayed in Ethan's mind. It was competence stripped bare. Unexpected. Intriguing.
A knock. Amelia Vance entered. "Sir, the diagnostics on the VR chamber override system are complete. A faulty sensor triggered the secondary lock cascade. Engineering has implemented a patch. Jenkins is fine, just shaken."
Ethan didn't look up from the report. "And Moretti?"
Amelia paused. "His report aligns with the technician's statement and security footage. His actions appear justified under the circumstances. Prevented potential injury and further system stress. Night manager notes no prior disciplinary issues."
"Resourceful," Ethan murmured, the word feeling foreign on his tongue. "For a janitor." He finally looked up. "His current assignment seems… underutilized. Wasted potential is inefficient."
Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Sir?"
"Reassign him," Ethan stated, his tone returning to its usual cool decisiveness. "Effective immediately. To the Facilities Technical Support pool. Day shift. He will assist with minor repairs, preventative maintenance checks, responding to urgent facility issues like last night's. Utilize his… practical skillset." It was a promotion in responsibility, if not pay grade. Still janitorial, but elevated. Visible. Closer to the operational heart of the tower. Closer to *him*.
Amelia blinked, masking her surprise. "Day shift, sir? That would necessitate adjusting his… debt service hours." She tactfully avoided mentioning the inherent conflict – Alex working days meant potential overlap with Ethan's presence.
"The debt accrual schedule can be amended," Ethan dismissed. "The priority is efficient resource allocation. His demonstrated capability warrants redeployment. Inform him." He slid the report aside, a clear dismissal. The decision was made. Alex Moretti was being moved from the shadows into the light of Thorne Tower's daily operations. Ethan told himself it was purely pragmatic. The flicker of possessiveness watching Marco had been extinguished; this was about utilizing an asset. The persistent echo of *"hope"* and the competence displayed were merely data points in the calculation. Nothing more.
**Alex: Promotion or Prison?**
The news, delivered by a flustered night manager, felt like a trap. Technical Support? Day shift? It meant regular hours, sure, but it also meant being *seen*. By more people. By *him*. Constantly. Using his construction skills to fix leaks and unclog drains felt like a cruel joke, a constant reminder of the life he'd lost, the debt he owed.
He called Marco, dreading his reaction. He found him on a break at Harbor Lights, the cacophony of construction in the background.
"Technical Support? *Day* shift?" Marco's voice was flat, dangerous. "Let me guess. He *watched* you play hero with the VR door. Decided you're his new handy-man pet project?"
"It's just fixing stuff, Marco," Alex said weakly. "Better than vacuuming."
"Is it?" Marco snapped. "Or is it him pulling you deeper in? Making you *useful*? Making you forget what he did? What he's *still* doing?" The bitterness was palpable. "While I'm stuck here, breaking my back in the dirt, miles away. Out of sight. Just like he wanted."
"Marco, no—"
"Don't 'Marco no' me, Alex!" Marco's voice cracked. "You're in that tower, impressing him with your fucking *multi-tool*, while I…" He trailed off, the roar of a crane drowning him out for a moment. "Just… be careful, Al. Day shift means you'll see him more. Don't let him get inside your head." The unspoken plea was clear: *Don't forget me. Don't choose him.*
Alex hung up, the weight of Marco's fear and jealousy heavier than any debt. The promotion felt less like a step up and more like a tightening cord.
**(End of Chapter 23)**