Timothy Grant's office overlooked the city like a watchtower. Morning sunlight struggled through the tall windows, glinting off polished surfaces, but the light did little to soften the sharp edges of the room. Timothy leaned back in his leather chair, dark eyes fixed on the skyline, the air thick with the quiet hum of power.
Jack, his assistant, shifted uneasily beside the desk, a stack of reports in hand. "Sir, I've finished reviewing the latest activity from Grant & Co.," he said, voice careful. "There's something you should see regarding Mr Smith"
Timothy's gaze snapped toward him. "Emily's father?"
Jack nodded. "Emily's father, sir. He's been leveraging the connection between you and… Mrs. Grant... Emily for client acquisition. Contracts you weren't even aware of, partnerships formed, all subtly attributed to the appearance of your involvement."
Timothy's fingers drummed slowly on the desk, the rhythm deliberate, measured. "So, he's using Emily's presence and her marriage to me to benefit his company."
"Yes," Jack replied. "Everything points to indirect influence. He hasn't broken any laws. Yet."
Timothy's jaw tightened. He studied the report, each line confirming his suspicions. " Smith…" he muttered, almost to himself, the name tasting bitter on his tongue. "Using family connections to manipulate business.
Clever.
But sloppy.
And transparent to anyone who looks closely."
Jack shifted, unsure how far to continue. "Would you like me to draft a response, sir? Something formal… a warning?"
Timothy shook his head slowly, a faint smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. "No. Not yet. Let him continue thinking he's clever. He's only stepping on the edges of a line. As long as his actions aren't directly affecting me, there's no need to intervene aggressively. Consider it… a courtesy. Respecting the fact that he's Emily's father."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Even though it's deceitful?"
Timothy leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk, eyes narrowing in thought. "Sometimes, Jack, restraint is a lesson in itself. Let him believe he's in control for now. Later, when the time is right… we'll teach him what happens when he oversteps."
Jack nodded, filing the notes away, sensing the quiet storm in Timothy's mind. The room settled again into a heavy silence, punctuated only by the occasional click of Timothy's pen.
----------------------
Meanwhile, far across the globe, Apolo sat in his dimly lit lab, monitors reflecting in his glasses. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, his mind racing as he read Emily's message.
"I am still alive."
The words burned against his disbelief. His mind flickered with old memories the conversations, the experiments, the bond they had shared. He typed back almost immediately, his tone sharp, incredulous.
"Who are you, and how dare you try to impersonate her!
"Are you really Emily?"
Emily saw his message and fingers hovered briefly over her keyboard before she replied, deliberate and unflinching.
"Yes. This is me. I'm still alive."