Brief Encounters

Timeline 1 (Part 7): Fate Bureau

The Room Where Fate Decides

In the darkened silence of a secluded office tower, hidden between the lines of this world and whatever lies beyond, sat a group of men in perfectly tailored gray suits. They surrounded a polished mahogany table, their faces illuminated only by the faint, almost mystical glow from the ceiling above-a soft lattice of stars and lines, charting constellations, connections, and unseen paths. The air was thick, charged with a tension that seemed to grip the room itself.

At the head of the table sat Mr. Ainsley, an older, sharp-featured man with piercing eyes that spoke of years of secrets kept and plans laid. As he sifted through a pile of leather-bound dossiers, the other men shifted slightly, exchanging wary glances. They knew what had brought them here: the Prince-and, more troublingly, his newfound fascination with Jeanna.

A younger agent, Fletcher, cleared his throat nervously. "William's feelings for Jeanna are...growing. It's not just some passing flirtation." His voice barely rose above a murmur, and he seemed to shrink as Mr. Ainsley's gaze pinned him.

With a faint frown, Mr. Ainsley closed the dossier, placing it on the table. "We had assumed," he said in a voice that could have cut glass, "that he was committed to the path we laid out for him. Legacy. Duty. A steady partner who fits seamlessly into the royal plan. Jeanna de Waal does not."

Hunter, another agent with cold eyes and a jawline sharp enough to carve stone, spoke up. "It's surprising, really. Two encounters with her, and he's already imagining...well, rearranging everything. This doesn't align with his father's intentions-or ours."

There was a pause as the men processed the situation, each contemplating the same unspoken truth. They were not unfamiliar with the art of intervening in mortal lives, of nudging them back toward their "intended" paths. Sometimes it took a small push-a missed train, a forgotten invitation-and sometimes, like now, a more deliberate strategy.

Ainsley opened another dossier, revealing surveillance photos from William's recent lunch with Jeanna. One image showed him, rapt and smiling, gazing at her across the table, completely oblivious to the efforts they'd made to disrupt the date.

"Our agents ensured several...accidents at the restaurant," Ainsley said with a hint of irritation. "Spilled water, delayed service. Yet, nothing could shake his attention."

"And Jeanna didn't seem bothered by the disturbances either," Hunter added with a sigh. "If anything, she handled them with grace."

The agents exchanged resigned glances. This wasn't just a passing infatuation; this was something far more troublesome. Fletcher, his brow furrowed, offered another option. "William's father is eager to introduce him to Katherine. She's everything we'd want for him-and the family's public image. An ideal match."

Mr. Ainsley nodded. "Yes. We'll guide him in that direction. But we'll also need to create...distractions for Jeanna." His tone softened, but his expression grew colder. "Fletcher, I want you to keep the disruptions constant. She's an actress, yes? Ensure her rehearsals are chaotic, add last-minute changes, increase the pressure. Make her world so complicated she has no room to think of William."

Fletcher nodded, already planning a few calls to her producer to "suggest" some additional demands on her time.

Ainsley's voice lowered. "We need to be delicate, gentlemen. Mortals have an uncanny sense for when they're being manipulated. We can't risk pushing too hard. A slow, steady influence is key. The last thing we need is a public scandal, another...Diana."

At the mention of that name, the air grew colder, an unspoken memory passing through the men. Ainsley cleared his throat. "We have a two-fold plan, then. Subtly draw them apart, and guide Katherine to William's side."

He opened another dossier, this one featuring a poised young woman with a serene smile, attending a royal event. "Katherine's family has close ties with the royals. She's everything we could want for William. Jeanna, however...her life is unpredictable. She's a firebrand, too willing to speak her mind. There's no stability there."

Hunter smirked slightly. "She has...charisma, I'll give her that. But charisma does not make a royal consort. We're not here to indulge in fairy tales."

"Precisely," Ainsley agreed, tapping the table to command the room's attention once more. "We're here to protect the future of the monarchy. Should William be led astray, it would threaten everything we've worked to safeguard."

The agents all nodded, understanding the gravity of their work. Fletcher closed his dossier, his face a mask of cool professionalism. "Understood, sir. I'll start arranging for Jeanna to be thoroughly occupied. Extra rehearsals, unexpected changes-anything to keep her off balance."

Ainsley nodded approvingly. "Good. Gentlemen, remember, our work is silent, our purpose unseen. William must never know of our influence, nor Jeanna."

With a final nod, Mr. Ainsley stood, the other men following suit as they quietly exited the room, leaving only the faint hum of the glowing ceiling above, marking out the invisible lines of destiny that connected every person, every moment.

Outside, Fletcher adjusted his suit cuffs, already mentally rehearsing his approach to Jeanna's producer. He'd make sure her days were filled with rehearsals and chaos.

The door closed, silence filling the room once more. But the agents knew this was just the beginning. If William's heart defied their plans, they were ready.