The Probability Shift

Just fix it!

Eugene Blake sat in his opulent study, the glow of the fireplace casting flickering shadows across the room. His fingers drummed impatiently on the polished mahogany desk as he read Kevin's email once more, his eyes narrowing with each word. The rejection stung, not because he needed their project to succeed—Blake had plenty of other schemes in motion—but because it was a challenge to his authority, a rebuke he could not tolerate, a new toy he now wanted more than anything.

He crumpled the printed email in his hand and tossed it into the fire, watching with grim satisfaction as it blackened and curled into ash. His mind churned with possibilities, each more ruthless than the last. Kevin Craft had made a grave mistake by denying him. He had read his profile, his total dependence towards his wife appeared obvious to the financier, and he knew exactly how to crush the scientist's spirit. Blake's lips curled into a cold smile as he reached for his phone.

"Get me Donovan," he ordered, his voice icy and precise.

Donovan, Blake's most reliable fixer—a man who excelled in making problems disappear, had proved his efficiency and loyalty over many occasions. Within minutes, the call connected, and Donovan's gravelly voice crackled through the speaker.

"What do you need?"

Blake leaned back in his wheelchair, staring at the ornate ceiling above. "Kevin Craft has refused our offer. I need him... persuaded."

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Donovan replied. "How persuasive are we talking?"

Blake's eyes glinted with malice. "Very persuasive. I want Vanessa Craft out of the picture. I'm sure without her; Mr. Craft will be much more malleable."

Donovan didn't hesitate. "Consider it done."

Blake ended the call and wheeled himself over to the window overlooking his sprawling estate. Clouds obscured the moon and stars, darkening the night—a fitting backdrop for what he had just set in motion.

In their penthouse apartment miles away across the state, Kevin and Vanessa stayed blissfully unaware of the storm about to descend upon them. They had spent the day engrossed in their research, refining their models and discussing future plans with renewed optimism after rejecting Blake's offer.

As evening fell, they settled into their usual routine—Kevin tinkering with algorithms on his laptop while Vanessa prepared dinner in their modern kitchen. A tad cliché, but without Vanessa, her husband will skip meals most of the time. The aroma of freshly cooked pasta filled the air as they chatted about mundane things. The kind of small talk that gave structure to their otherwise chaotic lives, but also served to keep Kevin aware of his social surroundings.

Vanessa paused mid-sentence when she noticed a figure lingering outside their window—a shadowy silhouette that sent a chill down her spine.

"Kevin," she called softly, trying to keep her voice steady. "Come look at this."

Kevin joined her by the sliding doors, squinting into the darkness. The figure seemed to vanish as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only an unsettling sense of foreboding behind.

"Probably just a trick of the light," he concluded dismissively.

Vanessa nodded but couldn't shake off her apprehension. She closed the curtains tightly and forced herself to focus on more immediate concerns—like setting the table for dinner and get Kevin to eat something other than the thin air around his laptop.

Meanwhile, Donovan observed from a distance, blending seamlessly into the shadows cast by adjacent buildings on the Crafts penthouse terrace. He had been watching them for hours now—studying their habits, noting their vulnerabilities and Kevin's codependency.

Back at Blake's estate, Eugene checked Donovan's progress updates with satisfaction on his mobile. Each message confirmed that his plan was unfolding flawlessly—the Crafts were none the wiser about what awaited them.

Blake reveled in this feeling of control—his ability to orchestrate events from afar with surgical precision. It served him well in the past and made him both feared and respected in equal measure; those who dared defy him learned quickly enough that there were consequences. Nothing will happen to them tonight, he wanted it to be public. Not only to complexify the police investigation, but to unsettle Kevin even more, as he knew it would.

As night deepened over New York City, Vanessa and Kevin sat down for dinner—unaware that these ordinary moments were numbered and that forces beyond their understanding were converging upon them with lethal intent.

Eugene Blake sipped from a crystal glass filled with aged scotch, savoring both its rich flavor and his impending victory over Kevin Craft. He would not be denied—not by an idealistic researcher nor anyone else who dared stand in his way.

And so he waited patiently. The next gala in the Big Apple-he had orchestrated himself from the shadows-will have very different outcomes for the Crafts.