Chapter 62 — Burgeoning Tech VentureFrank Gallagher's house was many things.
A shelter.
A battleground.
A liability.
Luke had already learned the limits of working there.
Noise corrupted focus.
Chaos leaked into code.
And Frank—unpredictable, invasive, corrosive—was a variable no system could reliably sandbox.
So Luke shifted the board.
Reclaiming SpaceThe opportunity presented itself naturally.
Shilla began working late.
Keren spent more time out.
The house stood empty for long stretches—cleaner, quieter, untouched by Frank's entropy.
Luke did not ask.
He acted.
One afternoon, he arrived with a toolbox instead of a backpack.
He started with the obvious:
Replaced flickering bulbs
Fixed a leaky sink that had been ignored for years
Tightened loose door hinges
Cleaned vents clogged with dust and neglect
He worked methodically, sleeves rolled, movements efficient.
This was not seduction.
It was restoration.
By nightfall, the house felt different—not warmer, not brighter, but stable.
Stability invited purpose.
Rearrangement Without FootprintsLuke didn't change the house's identity.
He optimized it.
The dining table moved closer to the window for natural light.
A spare bedroom became a workroom—desk centered, power strips aligned, cables managed.
Curtains adjusted to block street-level visibility.
Nothing screamed "operation."
Everything whispered function.
When Shilla noticed, she didn't object.
She only said, "You didn't have to."
Luke replied, "I know."
That ended the conversation.
The Safe BaseThe first night he worked there alone, Luke felt the difference immediately.
No shouting.
No drunken footsteps.
No sudden demands.
Just the hum of a computer and the rhythm of thought.
He encrypted drives.
Refactored code.
Expanded the data-analysis backend into modular services.
This wasn't a hustle anymore.
It was a venture.
A quiet one.
One that grew in capability, not visibility.
Operational DisciplineLuke imposed rules on himself:
No illegal data storage
No work past midnight
No emotional entanglement tied to the space
This house was not refuge.
It was infrastructure.
The Emotional Regulator held steady, but Luke didn't rely on it. He relied on structure.
Shilla's Unspoken AgreementShe noticed the changes.
The cleanliness.
The order.
The absence of chaos.
Once, passing the workroom, she paused.
"You're building something," she said.
"Yes," Luke answered. "But not here."
She smiled faintly.
"That's good."
Neither of them said more.
The boundary held.
Distance From FrankAt the Gallagher house, Frank barely registered Luke's reduced presence.
Which was ideal.
Luke paid bills.
Contributed food.
Stayed invisible.
He was no longer reacting to chaos.
He was operating outside it.
By the end of the week, Luke leaned back in the quiet room, code compiling cleanly, systems stable.
This was how real power began.
Not with noise.
Not with dominance.
But with a room where thought could finish itself.
The venture was small.
But it was alive.
And for the first time in this world, Luke had space to let it grow.