Chapter 18
Eighteen
I’m starting to understand why everyone calls this place Excelsior Parks and not Excelsior Paradise. The last forty-eight hours have been absolute carnage. I don’t know what I did to anger the universe, but it seems it decided that after Monday night’s magic, we needed a healthy dose of reality.
On Tuesday, the London team hit a snag that turned into a sinkhole—a software glitch in the launch mechanism’s logic. What started as a “simple sync issue” morphed by nightfall into a nightmare.
Theo was a ghost in the machine, haunting every department at once, while Leon and I reran simulations until my eyes felt like they’d been scrubbed with sandpaper.
By Wednesday, the atmosphere in the office was stifling. I arrived at eight, an hour early, and wasn’t even slightly surprised to find Theo already at his desk, looking haggard.
I invoked my girlfriend privilege and dragged him out of the conference room and to a nearby restaurant to make sure he received a dose of vitamin D and wouldn’t collapse on the job. He inhaled a full English breakfast and triple-shot espresso in record time, barely pausing for oxygen.
Around midday, he managed to carve out ten minutes for me.
We slipped out for a walk along the Thames.
We didn’t say much. He looked too drained for actual syntax.
But I knew better than to think it was just a stroll.
Time is the most expensive currency Theo has right now, and spending a few minutes of it just walking beside me felt like the most extravagant gift he could give.
Back at the office, the code still refused to cooperate. Every test failed at the same point. At five o’clock, my head was pounding, and Leon looked about ready to hurl his laptop across the room. We broke for dinner and made a quick run to Nando’s.
“Theo . . .?” I call out softly as we enter the conference room with food.
He looks up from his laptop, a pair of brown reading glasses perched on his nose. Something I’ve never seen before. And I have to say, they’re not a look everyone can pull off. But Theo? Cue the fire alarm.
“Since when do you have glasses? Is this a new development?”
“Only when I’ve reached the point of seeing double.
” He slides them off and rubs the bridge of his nose.
There are small red marks from the frames.
“I usually stick to contacts, but fifteen hours of blue light has caught up with me. I had to dig these out of my desk drawer for the sake of my sanity.”
Well, I definitely approve. Especially since he looks like a sexy-academic, I think to myself.
I clear my throat. “Where is everyone?” I set the bags of food down.
“I sent them home. It didn’t make sense to keep them here when we’re spinning our wheels. We all need a mental reset.”
“Does that include you?” I ask, hopeful. “Leon and I can handle this for a bit.” We’ve been working separately in our own conference room.
Theo shakes his head, though his attention is already fixed on the brown paper bags. “No. But I will gladly accept a bribe. What did you get?”
Leon drops into a chair opposite him. “Peri-peri chicken. Can’t go wrong with a classic.”
Theo sits taller. “With chips?”
“And extra sauce,” Leon adds.
Theo reaches for a bag and makes quick work of unwrapping his sandwich. The warm, spicy scent of charred meat quickly fills the room. For a few minutes, the tension actually lifts. Leon and I keep up a steady stream of mindless chatter while Theo eats in focused silence, savoring every bite.
But the reprieve is short. Once the containers are empty, it’s back to the grind. We split the tasks—Leon digs back into the control timing code while I start the painstaking process of reviewing the safety logs line by line.
Somewhere around seven, Leon exclaims, “Eureka!”
I drop my pen. “What? You found it?”
“The drift!” he says, spinning his laptop around so fast, it nearly slides off the table. “Look at the time stamps. It’s repeating every tenth cycle, like clockwork.”
I lean in, squinting at the scrolling data, and suddenly Theo is right there beside us. He’s leaning over my shoulder, his chin nearly brushing my hair as he scans the screen.
“Darn,” he mutters, his voice low and sharp with realization. “It’s overwriting the command queue mid-execution.”
The fix is so glaringly simple, it’s almost frustrating. “If we reassign the redundant buffer, it should stabilize the timing,” I say, pointing to the logic jump.
Theo’s focus sharpens instantly, that brilliant engineering mind clicking into high gear. “Do it.”
Leon’s fingers fly over the keyboard. “Rerouting the timing call . . . adjusting the safety check delay . . . and . . . done.”
The simulation starts. We watch in agonizing silence as the progress bar crawls across the screen. Once. Twice. Three times. Each test cycle comes back steady, the numbers holding firm. Then the screen flashes a glorious neon green—stable launch achieved.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I shout, jumping to my feet so fast, the chair nearly flips over.
“Team Orlando for the win!” Leon whoops, punching the air. “Take that, London!” He catches himself and looks quickly at Theo. “Uh, no offense, boss.”
“None taken,” Theo says dryly, though the corners of his mouth lift. “There’s a reason I plucked you from the London office to join me in Orlando.” He leans in, his eyes sharp behind those reading glasses. “Now, show me the data. I want to see it run again.”
We run the simulation one more time, and the result is identical. Perfection.
“Right, then,” Theo says, standing up and stretching his back until it cracks. “Come on. I owe you both my sanity and a pint.”
We gather our things, all eager to escape Excelsior Parks HQ.
The following morning, the energy in the office is electric. The word has spread—Vortex Rise is officially back on track.
Theo calls a flash meeting in the conference room. “I have some brilliant news,” he says, pausing for just enough dramatic effect to make everyone lean in. “We’re back on schedule.”
He clicks through the latest safety logs, breaking down the nuances of the glitch and the fix we implemented. When he finishes, the room erupts. There are whistles and cheers of “Well done, mate!” and “Knew you’d sort it, you always do.”
Theo holds up his hands to quiet the room. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I didn’t find the error. All the credit goes to our visiting engineers from Orlando—Kaori and Leon. They’re the ones who caught the timing conflict in the buffer.”
He leads another round of applause, and this time, the entire room is looking at us. Leon basks in it, flashing a megawatt grin as he elbows me. “Didn’t I tell you we’d pull it off?”
I smile, my cheeks flushing warm. I feel a bit like a fraud. Leon did the heavy lifting. I didn’t do anything except keep Theo fed and watered.
“What’s all this noise about?”
The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. Cuthbert Harris is standing in the doorway, arms folded tightly across his chest.
“Mr. Harris,” Theo says flatly. Every trace of the warmth from a moment ago has vanished behind a perfectly constructed mask. “We’re celebrating a resolution to the software issue on Vortex Rise.”
“I see,” Harris says, stepping into the room. He looks like he’s searching for a reason to be angry. “Well done, I suppose. Though, of course, a glitch of that magnitude shouldn’t have happened in the first place.”
The room goes silent. The vulture’s claws are out.
“A project of this scale should have tighter quality control,” he continues, his gaze sweeping over the team before landing squarely on his son. “How far off schedule are you? And how much is this latest setback going to cost me?”
Theo doesn’t flinch. “We’re exactly where we need to be, sir. The team has been incredibly efficient. We’re still projected to come in under budget.”
“See that it stays that way,” Harris snaps. “Ms. Minami, walk with me.”
He’s already turning toward the door, not waiting for an answer. It’s not an invitation. It’s a command. Theo’s brow furrows as he looks at me, his eyes searching mine. The silent question is clear: “Are you okay? Do you want me to step in?”
I give him a small, firm nod and a reassuring smile. I can handle him, I think, praying I’m right.
I follow Mr. Harris into the hallway. His cologne is so thick, I’m tempted to hold my breath. We stop under the harsh recessed lights near the far end of the hall. He turns to me with an unreadable expression.
“Have you given any more thought to what I mentioned the last time we spoke?” he demands.
“I’m not sure I follow, sir.” And that’s the truth. Last time he said I could be useful or use my influence. Does he mean he wants me to speak to Mr. Tanaka? Or have Papa speak to him?
“For someone with your credentials, Ms. Minami, you’re playing remarkably dull.” He steps closer. “The Tanaka Group. We need their chairman to ink a partnership agreement with us. You have the specific lineage required to convince him. Can I count on your assistance?”
My jaw tightens. “I’m just an engineer, Mr. Harris. Not a lobbyist.”
“So that’s the game you want to play.”
“It’s not a game sir.”
“I tried to do this the easy way, but you really leave me no choice.” He lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “I know about you and Theodore.” He pauses, letting the implication hang in the air like a threat. “Ironically, it’s the first time in his life he’s done something right.”
Panic flares in my chest. How does he know? It’s been less than a week.
He leans in, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial, oily silk. “If you help me, all of this can be brushed under the rug. You and my son can do as you please, and I can guarantee HR will look the other way.”
“And if I refuse?”
From inside his jacket, he produces a file folder and flashes its content at me. There’s copies of my hiring paperwork, the Excelsior NDA, and a clause stamped Confidential.