5. Ethan

five

One Week Later

Thorne Industries was recognized as the leading robotics industry in New York. It was a title that could only be earned through hard work and consistency. A title I earned many years ago. A title I”ve maintained through competition and change.

Success isn”t easy. I”d known that since the early days. Success wasn’t a bus stop as well, it’s a journey.

Thorne Industries had been on a journey through domestic robotics, industrial robotics, medical robotics, and now, military robotics.

It had always been my dream— my vision for this company to become a titan in the robotics industry. To become the vanguard of the robotic revolution.

Now, the only thing standing between me and that dream was one day. Today.

“Play the simulation.”

On cue, the fluorescent lights of the conference room dimmed. Then the projector screen lit up.

The air was thick with the stale scent of coffee and nervous anticipation. It was late, well past my closing hour— well past Sophie’s bedtime. But this had to be done.

We had to run the final test before the military presentation tomorrow.

Maxwell, the head of the testing and evaluation team, fiddled with the connected laptop before grabbing the controller.

Instead of a joystick, we’d made the controller in the form of a game pad, for ease of handling.

I watched Maxwell move to the side, and on the large screen in front of the room, a virtual battlefield unfolded.

Lush green valleys gave way to jagged, snow-capped peaks, all rendered in stunning detail. A red team of simulated enemy forces occupied strategic positions, their tanks and armored vehicles gleaming in the virtual sun.

Pride surged through me as I watched our creation, a sleek, waspish drone designated ”Hornet,” buzz across the screen. Its digital wings blurred as it zipped through the simulated airspace.

Adjusting myself to my seat, I clasped my palms as I placed my elbows on the table.

My eyes avidly watched the drone’s movement, monitoring it closely.

There shouldn’t be any flaws. We’d been working on this project for months. We’d tested, improved, and revised codes. Nothing should go wrong.

Maxwell’s fingers danced across the pad, sending commands to the drones. And it received every command as coded. It did exactly what a combat drone should. First reconnaissance and surveillance—capturing enemies” positions, troop movements and battlefield situations. Then flight— smooth maneuvers and turns, but that wasn’t all.

Pride sank every fire in me as I anticipated the final, most important part, the strike.

Almost immediately, the drone spotted an enemy tank. I watched as the drone adjusted to produce two lasers from underneath its body then proceeded to strike. But instead of locking on the target for a simulated airstrike, it lurched.

What?

Gasps from the others filled the room as the drone lurched erratically. Its form was in a constant twist and turn as if caught in a sudden downdraft.

Fuck.

“What the fuck is happening?” I fixed my eyes on the malfunctioning drone.

“I— I d-don’t know, sir, it seems to be glitching.” Maxwell released through a shaky voice as he continued to fiddle with the gamepad. “It doesn’t seem to be from the control pad.”

Then from what?

“Turn it off,” I growled. I needed the fucking lights to be on.

Instantly, Maxwell slammed the laptop shut and the lights came on.

“Can somebody explain to me why that just happened?”

I tried to control the raging anger inside of me, but the deafening silence was doing nothing to help.

Inhaling some much-needed air, I scanned the faces in the room. All the team heads were present. Robotics, aerodynamics, weaponry, software, sensors.

All these fucking teams and the simulation couldn’t endure a smooth operation?

“Sir, it’s- it’s a problem with the code.” Maxwell was the only one bold enough to answer.

“What do you mean?” I was the head of the software department. The codes had been revised and improved. How was there a fucking bug at this critical moment?

How was there a fucking bug when I had a presentation to the chief military officer tomorrow?

“I believe it’s a bug, sir.”

“A bug in the control software.” Someone else from the software team added. I didn’t care to know who. I didn’t need them to fucking tell me.

The urge to fist my hair was strong.

Fuck. It could have resulted from a last-minute code integration. Or corrupted data but that was highly unlikely. If the data was corrupted we’d have seen that before now. It was definitely a recent code—- something we used to fix an error. While fixing the error it must have introduced a conflict with the existing control software.

“We could start working on it now. It might be an easy fix.” Jameson, the lanky guy with curly hair, spoke.

And if it isn’t?

Releasing another sigh, I turned to stare at their faces. They were clearly stressed, tired, frustrated, just like me.

“Yes. It could be easy.” Someone else from another unit spoke. I didn’t know his name. “It could have resulted from the very recent code while we tried to improve the sta—”

“No.” I clenched my fist.

The simulation needed to be fixed in time but not at the expense of human cost. I needed to be rational.

“The meeting is over.”

I caught sight of Maxwell’s shocked face. “But sir—”

“Tomorrow, we’re meeting with the Chief Military Officer.”

I watched them all file out of the room until it was just me.

Almost immediately, I sank into the chair, staring at the empty cups of coffee. I couldn’t let them spend more time here. They had families, and some had children… just like I had Sophie.

A few more minutes passed as I stared at the empty projector screen, racking my brain on the root cause of the issue.

When my head came blank, I knew I needed a break too.

After taking the flash drive, I exited the room and made my way to my car.

I climbed in, exhausted, ignited the engine and revved out of the lot. In moments like this, when I needed serenity, I preferred to drive myself instead of having my driver, Lewis, pick me up.

The houses blurred past me as I pressed the accelerator. My head was still blank, but this time, it was intentional. I didn”t want to think about the project just for a brief moment.

I liked this ambiance— whatever it was. The lights, the speed, the emptiness.

I rarely got this. Some quiet in my head. If I wasn’t thinking about the company, it was about Sophie.

It was one of those two. No, it used to be one of those two. Now there was a third one, her.

Expectedly, my thoughts brought images of her in the barely-there nighties and my now rising boner.

It was how it”d been for the past week. It was the same routine. One second I was thinking about her, the next, I was reprimanding myself for ever thinking such.

I knew it”d be hard living with her, but I didn”t know it would be this hard getting her out of my head.

Fuck. I needed to constantly remind myself to establish the line.

I needed to establish the line of professionalism… For myself. For the sake of James and I’s friendship.

Slowly, I tugged my mind back to the pressing issue. After a cold shower, I would run through the codes again. I’d do whatever it took. Whatever.

After what seemed to be hours but was only forty minutes, I arrived at my mansion. Without wasting time, I ascended the stairs and headed to Sophie’s room. Nudging the door carefully, I opened it.

It was past eleven, and I knew she wouldn”t be awake. Still, I stared at her. It didn”t matter how much I placated myself. I couldn”t help my worries. The what ifs.

It was the second year since the accident and Sophie still showed no sign of improvement.

The thought that my daughter may remain this way for the rest of her life was devastating. I tried not to think about it, but sometimes I couldn”t help it.

Like tonight. Would I ever have my daughter back?

As usual, hope was the only response I had. So, with that, I left the room. When I reached outside, I paused for a moment. Then looked in a particular direction.

I didn”t know what— who— I was looking for. Or maybe I did. I didn”t know what I expected staring at her door but—

No.

All I had to do tonight was take a shower and fix the error.

It could have been an error that occurred while we were trying to improve reconnaissance. That was the last issue we tried to fix.

We also tried to sharpen the vision and smoothen its maneuvering ability. It could have been during the editing the codes that–

A loud thud followed by a soft nudge on my chest forced me to reality. I traced the scent of orange bloom to the nanny sitting on the floor before me. Her creamy thighs were on display while her hand was raised to her head.

I hadn”t seen her in a week. Each time I went to check on Sophie, it was late, and she wasn”t there. I wondered why she was sitting…

Wait, something wasn’t right. Suddenly it clicked. She wasn”t sitting. She fell. She crashed into me and fell.

I unplugged my eyes from the low neckline of the singlet and reached out to help her up.

I didn”t miss how her breasts swayed with her rising movements and how her nipples poked through her singlet. I wished they were poking something else instead.

Fuck. My pants were slowly growing tighter…again.

She finally looked at me. “Good evening, sir.”

“Evening.” I pressed my lips into a thin line. Her expression seemed to go from blank to something I couldn”t decipher.

“I”m sorry for barging into you, I went to the kitchen for a glass of water, and I didn”t know I”d see you here. If I had known, I”d have—”

I drowned out her words. This was the thing about her. She was a psychologist but couldn”t seem to be able to read moods. Why couldn”t she get that most of her explanations were unwarranted?

“There”s no need for that.” I deadpanned. “Move aside.”

“Why?”

I traced the thinness of her lips to her eyes. Was she trying to make me talk?

“Why, sir?” She let out softly. Something about it hardened my growing tent. I was almost shocked at the amount of softness her voice held. Her replies usually held an undertone of distaste.

Well, if she was trying to waste my time for whatever reasons, she would fail.

“Do not waste my time.”

She breathed, my eyes briefly moving to her chest. “If you keep pushing me aside this way, it won”t help our professional relationship. I”m trying to be cordial… I’m trying to make you see that this… strain won”t help us. Most importantly, it won’t help Sophie.”

I wasn”t expecting that. I didn”t know if she was expecting a response. But I had none.

“Sophie… reacts to almost everything except questions. This establishes the fact that she”s well aware of her surroundings and understands other cognitive factors. I also think her wardrobe needs an upgrade as she keeps staring at her reflection every day after dressing with no reaction. It”s subtle but she tends to shy away from the color red. I think it may be triggering, considering there might have been blood when the accident happened.”

My brows furrowed before I started to release them. No nanny or therapist had ever mentioned the second point.

“Having mentioned this, all that is left to stimulate her is the right condition,” she breathed, holding my gaze. “She”s like a flower, waiting for the right conditions to bloom.”

Her words replayed in my head again.

“No one has ever put it that way.”

Not me, not anyone.

She smiled. “I”m glad I could do that.”

I watched her tuck a piece of hair behind her ear as she kept her head bowed towards the floor.

Silence settled as I thought about all she said. It took the others months to figure out two of the points, but she figured it out in less than two weeks.

Her hair framed the side of her face, shielding her eyes from me. I wanted to see them at this moment. The urge to trace the soft curve of her jaw was overwhelming. And the urge to trace her every other curve was tempting.

Instinctively, my eyes scanned the contour of her nose. They seemed more pointed, exactly like James’s. Just as the thought of her father crossed my mind, I shook myself. Before I could speak, she lowered herself, then stretched out her arm.

I blinked when I found my flash drive in her palms. For a moment I had forgotten about that.

“That was important,” I remarked for lack of a better thing to say.

She tilted her head, then continued in the same soft voice. “Is that why you seem tired?”

I replied without hesitation. “Yes.”

She licked her lower lips. “A project?”

Perhaps it was just me, but the movement seemed to be in slow motion.

“A deal,” I replied, relieving the memories of how soft they’d been.

“When is your meeting with your potential client?” She shifted her weight to one foot. Her breasts jiggled.

“Tomorrow.”

She nodded, pulling her lips between her teeth. Fuck. She had to stop…

“It must have been pretty important for you to have missed Sophie’s bedtime.”

I was about to reply when she bit her lips and quickly spoke. “My apologies for that. Goodnight, sir.”

She sidestepped me, and the sound of her retreating footsteps was all I was left with. No. A boner and a bug to fix before dawn was all I was left with.