ELODIE’S POV~
My uncle’s voice dropped, his voice was heavy with that particular kind of sha n carry when they feel like they’ve failed.
"You’ve given uncle money many tis, but the company still..."
He continued to repeat those words and yet didn’t finish the sentence.
He didn’t have to.
‘Remained barely alive.’
The words hung there between us, unspoken but it was loud. So loud that my ears began to ring and my chest tightened tightly as though I was about to lose every damn oxygen in my body system. I watched him, really watched him, this man who had raised when Logan decided fatherhood was too inconvenient. His shoulders were a little more stooped than I rembered. More gray at his temples. More lines around his eyes.
He looked tired.
This kind of tiredness was one that seeped into your bones after years of fighting battles you keep losing.
"It’s because I lack ability," he said quietly, staring at his hands.
Sothing twisted in my chest.
"Uncle."
He didn’t look up.
I leaned forward, keeping my voice steady even though part of wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he understood.
"It’s normal for a company to invest heavily during transformation. Don’t pressure yourself too much." I had no idea how many tis I had repeated those words.
He nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t really hearing . n like him, good n like him, proud n like him, they carried their failures like stones in their pockets. Adding more weight with every passing year until they could barely stand.
I wished I could take so of that weight from him.
Maybe I could.
Eventually.
The truth was, I’d always been better with code than people.
Give a problem to solve, a system to build, a bug to track down at two in the morning, I was in my elent. But networking? Office politics? The endless dance of smiling at people you didn’t like and pretending their jokes were funny?
That was exhausting.
I wasn’t built for that world. It wasn’t for at all.
Fortunately, I’d figured out early on that I didn’t have to be. I didn’t have to pretend that I fitted in.
Years ago, back when I was still just a student, before eting Dante, before any of this, I’d secured several patents in artificial intelligence. Good ones. Those kinds that aged like fine wine as the tech industry exploded around them.
And the company I’d co-founded with Johnny and the others? We’d structured it so that even if I wasn’t actively involved, the dividends kept coming.
Throughout the year, those various inco streams ant I could earn tens of millions even while doing nothing.
Not that I did nothing. But the option was there.
It was the one smart decision I’d made before my life went sideways.
Sitting there with my uncle Jason, and watching him wrestle with his sha, I thought about what Johnny had said when we t the other day.
He’d been lounging in that ridiculous ergonomic chair he’d spent way too much money on, spinning a pen between his fingers the way he always did when he was thinking.
"The AI field is developing incredibly fast now," he’d said, eyes sharp despite the casual posture. "With your developnt skills back then and my operational abilities... if you hadn’t gone off to get married, our company would probably be worth hundreds of billions by now."
He’d paused, letting that sink in.
"We could have easily beco the industry leader dostically."
I hadn’t responded. What was there to say? He wasn’t wrong.
I had been good. Really good. The kind of good that professors wrote recomndations about, that companies tried to poach before graduation, that made people pay attention when I walked into a room.
And then I’d married Dante.
And slowly, piece by piece, I’d let that version of myself fade into the background.
For what?
A husband who looked through . A daughter who wished I was soone else. A life that felt more like a slow drowning than anything resembling happiness.
Johnny had leaned forward then, with his voice dropping.
"Fortunately, AI still has huge developnt potential. We still have a chance." His eyes had t mine, serious in a way he rarely was. "I hope you can return soon, Elodie. We need you. The company needs you."
I need to do sothing that matters again, I’d thought that but didn’t say it to him .
---
Now, watching my uncle struggle with words he couldn’t quite get out, I turned that conversation over in my mind.
If I could really regain my forr abilities, if I could shake off the rust and rember what it felt like to be brilliant instead of invisible, things could change. No, things would definitely change.
Not just for .
For Jason too. For my entire family.
Once I returned to the company properly, once I helped it grow the way Johnny believed it could... I could do more than just send money. I could actually fix things. Build sothing. Create a foundation solid enough that Jason would never have to look this defeated again.
The thought settled in my chest like I had this small fla lit inside of . Not hope, exactly.
Sothing quieter. More stubborn.
Determination, maybe. Yes, maybe it was determination to carry this out.
I’d spent years shrinking myself to fit into a life that didn’t want . Dimming my light so Dante wouldn’t feel threatened, so... so everyone around could be comfortable while I slowly suffocated.
I was done with that.
I was so fucking done.
---
Jason finally looked up, eyes red-rimd but steady.
"I’m sorry," he said. "You shouldn’t have to keep bailing out. You have your own problems. Your own life."
I reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
"You raised ," I said simply. "When Logan decided I wasn’t worth the effort, you were there. You and grandmother. You gave a ho when I didn’t have one."
His jaw tightened.
"This is nothing," I continued. "A few investnts. So money that would just be sitting in an account anyway. It’s nothing compared to what you gave ."
"Elodie..."
"But." I pulled my hand back, straightening in my seat. "I’m not going to keep doing things halfway. Don’t worry uncle, I assure you.... Everything is going to be fine. We wouldn’t be this broken anymore. I promise you that.”
Jason stared at for a long mont.
Then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased.
"You always were the smart one," he said quietly. "Even as a kid. Shark in school, your grandmother used to say. Too bright for your own good."
I laughed small, and it felt real for the first ti in weeks.
"Let’s hope she was right."
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