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The same reason you’re here. The response was heavy on the tip of my tongue. But for professionalism, I settled on explaining myself. “I was just pu—”
“Your unnecessary explanation is going to wake my daughter,” he deadpanned. I frowned.
His jaw clenched as he gestured for me to leave the room. I obliged. I almost tripped on my foot from the heat of his stare as he followed me. I was in front of him but I just knew his eyes were on something else. I could feel it.
When Sophie’s door was shut, he started. “I hired you to—”
“What happened to her?” I quickly interrupted. I wasn't ready for any more bullshit tonight. More like I needed to rush to my room, staying in his presence was becoming bothering.
The frown that tilted his lips told me he didn't like being interrupted. “I didn't hire you to become a bother to my daughter. She needs her breathing space. Your job is to take care of her when she actively needs you.” His eyes fell to my chest, then my thighs. “And be properly dressed while at it.”
I released a subtle breath. Any other thing I felt now disappeared, leaving irritation. “Noted, sir.”
My words hung in the air as he stared at me. This time, his stare was different. Unlike the others, it wasn't condescending or blank. It was curious, as though searching for something.
“Her mother’s death.”
“Uh?”
“Sophie witnessed her mother fall to her death.”
five
Ethan
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.
