The Prototype

59. The Plan

TEMPEST

The sun was slipping toward the horizon, streaking the sky with hues of burnt orange and dusky purple that seeped through the windows of the tech lab. The fading light ignited the room in a fiery glow, transforming every surface into a canvas of shifting, elongated shadows. Every workstation, usually humming with the sterile drone of electricity and the quiet clacking of keystrokes, now stood silent and almost mournfully blank—a reminder that today was not a day for the usual digital rituals of coding, hacking, or the graceful ballet of my fingers dancing over keyboards. Instead, my pulse hammering a warning of something different, something raw and dangerous.

Leaning against the white table, my arms folded tightly across my chest, my fingers idly drumming on my biceps as if they were rehearsing for an inevitable confrontation. Then, the heavy door creaked open, and in a split second, my head snapped up, seeing him.

Romeo.

Looking slightly disheveled, his breath uneven as if he'd hurried to get here. His eyes, always sharp and observant, swept over me with a mix of curiosity and concern. "Hey," he greeted, his voice carrying a breathless edge. "You texted me, said it was urgent. What's going on?"

There was no room for hesitancy. I let my words fly out, cutting through the charged silence like a razor. "I've been invited to Marcellus's birthday party."

Romeo's brows shot up, his confusion written all over his face. He stepped further into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him with a soft thud. "Okay..." he murmured, dragging the word out as if trying to decipher its meaning. "I thought you and Marcellus weren't on speaking terms." He took another step closer, his tone probing. "In fact," he continued, his voice tinged with disbelief, "if I'm not mistaken, you said—and I quote—that 'he was dead to you'."

The corners of my lips twitched, a smirk threatening to break free. "He is dead to me," I clarified coolly, my arms tightening across my chest like armor. "But he wasn't the one who invited me. Mrs. Galilei did."

Romeo's confusion only deepened, his expression a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as though trying to realign the pieces of a fractured puzzle. "Sooo..." he began, dragging out each syllable as if tasting their meaning, "you're going to the birthday party of the man who is, by your own declaration, dead to you. And you're going to celebrate... his birthday?" His face contorted in a mix of shock and skeptical amusement. "What am I missing here?"

I could see the gears turning in his head, but they weren't moving fast enough to catch up with the dark revelations of my plans. I pushed off the table, the faint squeaking of my sneakers echoing as I began to pace, my mind working faster than my feet. "Okay, hear me out," I said sharply, my tone clipped as the snap of a finger. My voice, imbued with a mixture of defiance and dark allure, leaving no room for debate. "Since Marcellus and I are no longer in a fake relationship—" I paused, catching the flicker of surprise in his eyes, "—yes, another thing you've apparently missed, but we'll circle back to that another time."

Romeo opened his mouth to respond, but I silenced him with a pointed look, resuming my pacing. "If I were to attend the party, it would be my first official event where I am no longer tied to Marcellus. Not having to fake the smiles. Fake the gestures for his peers, none of it. Just me." I stopped abruptly, and turned to face him, my eyes as sharp and unyielding as broken glass. "My boundaries toward Marcellus are still in place and he must respect those boundaries if he know what's best for him and this estate. Meaning I'm able to have a grand time solely for me."

I stared at Romeo's incredulous expression. He was trying to piece together the chaos spilling from my lips, his brows furrowed so deeply it looked like they might fuse together. So, let me get this straight," Romeo said slowly, leaning forward as though he needed to study me in minute detail. "You're going to Marcellus's birthday party to... not acknowledge him. On his birthday?" His voice heavy with confusion, tinged with a growing skepticism "Tempest why do I feel as though there is a motive behind this?"