TWO - Alana

TWO

Alana

As I enter the boardroom, I'm immediately drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows in the far wall. The sun bounces off them, not strong enough to pierce the fortified glass, but it's the city stretching out in front of me, the vibrant Silicon Valley landscape, that catches my attention. I turn away to keep myself from walking right to the very edge and staring down the way I had as a child.

"Hello, Father," I say.

My father looks up from a stack of papers at the head of the table, at the helm and in control as usual. Flashes of gray tinge his thick black hair, especially by his ears, accentuating his fierce jawline and even fiercer brow. There are no laugh lines near his eyes or his mouth, but time has carved her path in his skin anyway. His eyes are a deep brown, much deeper than mine, and lack the flecks of green gifted me by my mother. "Alana, good. You're here. Sit." He gestures toward the seat to his right.

I pause. No doubt that had been Greg's seat. It hurts that my brother is not here. I falter and look across the table at my cousin. "Hey, Nico."

"Alana." He nods. While my father looks somewhat like our Italian ancestors, Nico is all Italian. Dark hair, dark eyes, muscled frame in a black suit. "You look lovely," he says, no inflection in his voice. He's Greg's age and they were the best of friends.

"Thank you." I reply in the same tone, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. I need to reach out to him, but our grief is too strong right now.

For this meeting, I'm wearing a navy blue suit with pink flowers embroidered on the skirt and understated jewelry comprised of aquamarine crystals and rose quartz stones. My talismans. As the face of the company, I know how to present myself.

"Now, Alana." My father narrows his focus to me. Aquamarine crystals decorate his thick watch, glowing at the nearness to his skin. His talismans, too.

Taking a deep breath, I roll the heavy blue leather chair away from the thick marble table and sit, crossing my legs. I have to get a grip.

"You're now a director," my father says without preamble.

I jolt. "Father, I—"

"It is done." He looks back down at a tablet he smacks on top of the papers. "I'm also considering bringing two of your distant cousins in but am still weighing the options."

Interesting. I've always owned shares, and it'll be nice to have some say in the direction of the platform now. I requested a position two years ago, but my father didn't want to change things at that time. It's good he's ready now. However, I hate that Greg is dead. I will need to rearrange my schedule, which is okay. Perhaps I can somehow leverage this new job position into funneling additional funds to the Backpack program. Or I could build several more houses for battered women in Southern California.

"Alana," my father says harshly.

I jerk and heat spurts into my face. Once again, I am caught daydreaming.

My father shakes his head. "Nico, you were saying?"

"I'm saying it's a bad idea," Nico snarls.

The vitriol in his voice catches me and I press back into my chair.

"Shall we ask Alana's opinion?" Nico asks quietly. There's a tone in his voice I can't quite read, but I know I don't like it.

I clasp my shaking hands in my lap. My rose quartz necklace begins to heat against my skin and I absorb comfort from the stone, calming myself. "How about you both stop snapping at me?" I say serenely. "As usual, I'm happy to help."

"Good," my father says. "Because it is time for you to step up as the sole heir to Aquarius Social and the one with the strongest connection to aquamarines. There can only be one in every generation, and you're somehow it. As you know . . ."

A knock sounds on the door and I jump; the two men don't move.

My father sighs and reads his watch. "Let's get this part of the meeting finished. Come in," he calls out.

I turn and look over my shoulder to see two people enter. The first is Wesley Whisper, who is the chief product officer for Aquarius Social. The second is Val Vicconi, our chief legal officer.

Val pulls out a chair and sits next to me while hefting a large stack of file folders in front of her. Wesley moves toward the far end of the boardroom and grasps a remote control, then turns on a screen that takes up most of the west wall.

I find him intriguing. Wesley's about five foot nine with unruly blond hair, symmetrical features, and dark-rimmed glasses. There's no doubt he's the brains behind the current algorithms at Aquarius, and the stress lines cutting grooves into his forehead attest to that fact. Yeah, I'm a little jealous of him as well. I've always wanted to learn how to code, but my boarding school taught us manners and how to influence people and not the humdrum ability to program computers. I still need to find the time to learn.

"All right, I'll be quick." He sounds as if his mind is already several years ahead of us. "We're in trouble."

My heart sinks. "Trouble?"

My father stares straight ahead at the screen. "Tell us."

Wesley nods. "We've lost five percent of market share to Malice Media in the last quarter alone."

"Damn it," my father says. "How?"

Wesley lifts a shoulder. "Their software is more complex than ours, and the crystals that run their computers are stronger. While our platform uses advanced AI technology to analyze our users' emotions in real time, Malice is doing the same while adding thoughts and experiences directly. They're getting more followers and, more importantly, users who share content." Several lights bloom on the screen.

"Whoa," Nico mutters. "That's some power they're amassing."

"I've been trying," I say, my mind reeling. "I have been appealing to deeper emotions lately." Our AI is an emotional-intelligence platform that uses advanced AI tech to analyze users' emotional states. The key is in the real time updates of connections.

Wesley sighs. Numbers and statistics scroll across the screen. "We're losing power. We need a good seven billion exploding stars a day just to keep us at current levels. We're not getting that."

I rapidly think through my options. To like an emote-post or share on our site, a user must click on an exploding-stars icon. One thing I'm not is a computer programmer. However, I am an influencer. "I'll create a new campaign that's centered around exploding stars and hints at more than emotion." I chew on my lip, knowing that my father is set in his ways. "I think we also should look at expanding user engagement."

"What do you mean by ‘expanding'?" Nico asks.

I slowly inhale. "We all know that we receive energy and power from exploding stars. What if we share it with our users?"

"Share our energy?" my father asks incredulously. "We spend hours upon hours disseminating misinformation about crystal energy and its restorative power. It has taken the four families centuries to convince the public that magic does not exist."

Nico snorts. "Magic in the conventional sense does not exist."

I don't agree. No matter how many scientific principles are applied, our most brilliant scientists have never been able to completely explain how we derive energy from crystals and then use them to basically gain popularity that then enhances our health and longevity. It has something to do with storytelling from the time of the romantic poets to the dawn of the internet, where stories are now shared via social media posts. Who knows what the wide use of AI will lead to for us.

Even I do not know how the crystals work, and I have a stronger connection to aquamarine and rose quartz than anybody ever mentioned in the history books. "Crystal energy is a fact, and I think if we get people to understand the power they wield in creating that energy, they would take ownership and contribute, perhaps enhancing their own health and lifespans."

Nico shakes his head. "That's ridiculous. Most of the world has absolutely no idea that human energy can be harnessed via crystals, and we need to keep it that way. Such energy must be a zero sum game—there's only so much to go around. Keeping that secret is the only treaty among the four families that has stuck for eons."

That's true. From the dawn of time, different connections between humans and the Earth's crystals have created energy for the four ruling families, but the power of that was dying out until the advent of the internet, which then became enhanced via social media. Now the holy trinity is complete with Artificial Intelligence. Social media and AI are only strengthening the capture.

The more energy, the more glamour, the more subscribers—which leads to more money. All are important, but nothing comes close to the health and longer life benefits we glean.

However, Nico probably is correct. We've discovered that even by using computers and social media to connect people, there is only so much power to be gathered by the four families, which each set up a social media company at the birth of the new opportunity. At the moment, Aquarius Social is in fourth place. That means three other companies, or rather families, are leashing more power.

Social media is the new magic and it all runs on crystals.

"I still feel there's a way to turn the algorithms around," I say, looking at Wesley. "We gain so many interactions from the snide and bitter videos we push. What if we flip that around? I think there's an untapped market." There's a reason people stop to watch puppy videos.

"No," my father says. "Wesley, go work on the algorithm. I want to have something productive from you by the end of the week."

Wesley falters. "Yes, sir." His focus finally shifts to me. "I need you in the lab sometime later this week."

"Already?" Nico asks.

"Yes. I've integrated a thousand more aquamarine crystals into the hardware of our primary AI system, and I need them charged. Alana's mere presence ups the voltage from my devices." He grabs his backpack off the floor and saunters from the room.

Nico's frown darkens his face. He has never hidden his anger that I channel the aquamarine energy more effectively than he does. When my brother died, my connection to the stones strengthened even more. No doubt Nico had hoped for a different result.

My father looks at Val. "Do you have the documents?"

"I do." She smoothly hands a red file folder past me to my father.

I'm never sure what to make of Val Vicconi. She's much taller than I am and has an intimidating, statuesque grace. Black hair curls to her shoulders and a perfect peach color tinges her dusky skin above fiercely cut bone structure. Besides being wildly beautiful, her eyes shine with intelligence. She meets my gaze and quickly dismisses me.

To her, I am a bunch of fluff, yet I would bet my best pair of sparkly new Caovillas that she follows me on Aquarius Social and enjoys the sniping between me and the Rendale sisters.

My father flips through the file folder. "This looks good. Thank you, Val."

Val immediately stands, looking powerful in a red skirt suit with black patent heels. "Very well. Thank you." She turns and exits the room.

My heart beats faster though I don't know why. "Father?"

He clears his throat. "We don't have a choice here, Alana, so you'll do as you're told." He hands over the file folder.

"What is this?" I open it, the blood roaring through my ears, even though I have no idea what I'm about to read. Sometimes my instincts are excellent; other times, especially when dealing with men, not so much. My gaze catches on the heading of the first set of documents. It's a prenuptial agreement. I gulp. "You're getting married?"

My father chuckles, a sound as rare as a pink crocodile. "No, you are."

I rear away from the contract like it's a hungry tarantula that wants a bite of my flesh. "I am not getting married."

"You most certainly are."

Nico grunts. "I've been telling you that she's not a pawn."

"No," my father snaps. "You're not going to jump in and act like Greg. You're her distant cousin, not her brother."

I blink twice. Had Greg been protecting me all this time? "Nico?"

He looks away. I scan the documents. "Wait a minute. You want me to marry Cal Sokolov?" It is unthinkable. Cal is the youngest brother of the family that owns Hologrid, a 3D-holographic social media platform currently in third place. The guy is a notorious playboy—no way is he looking for a ball and chain. Could his family be shooting him down the aisle in a power play?

"I see you're getting it," my father says, already looking bored. "If we merge with Hologrid, we can kick Malice Media and TimeGem Moments down the ladder—maybe to the ground."

I have my doubts about that. Malice Media is owned by Thorn Beathach, whom nobody has seen for years. TimeGem Moments, in second place currently, is owned by Sylveria Rendale, who would like to see me in the ground after my fights with her daughters. I'd like to see her buried beneath a pile of concrete for her cruel treatment of Ella, her stepdaughter.

Staring at my father, I try to gather my thoughts. I barely know Cal. Sure, we've run across each other at various events, usually bar openings or society parties, and he might have flirted once or twice, but he flirts with everybody.

I glance at Nico, but he's transfixed by the screen still lit with blue dots as if the answer to every question in the universe is before him.

How could my father think he has any say in whom I marry? We live in the modern age, and it appears as if I have everything, but my only usefulness to him is as a bargaining tool. That reality shouldn't hurt me after all this time, yet my entire chest aches. "You have lost your mind." I snap the file folder shut and push it toward him.

"Are you sure we can rise above third place and gain energy for Aquarius with a . . . well, merger?" Nico avoids my gaze.

"I'm sure," my father says. "This is a done deal. Alana, sign everywhere you're supposed to sign. You and Cal will meet tonight and make arrangements that will suit you both. We'll announce the engagement at the Silicon Shadows and Secrets Ball next weekend."

The ball is held every year to benefit several local charities. We always attend. "Dad, I—"

He continues as if I haven't spoken. "The wedding will take place the following weekend. Cal's mother is making all the arrangements, so all you have to do is show up."