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“Like the nuances of human relationships?” he asked pointedly.
“But the marriage–” Grandmother began, concern etching her features.
A weight seemed to lift from Grandmother’s shoulders. She reached across the table and patted my hand. “Good, good. That’s all I needed to know.”
Elara’s POV
We took our seats beside him. My grandmother beamed at us from across the table, looking more animated than I’d seen her all evening. The other guests resumed their conversations, though I noticed many eyes still darting toward our table.
“I wanted to,” he replied simply.
“Was her choice,” Mr. Newman finished firmly. “And now her choice to end it shows strength, not failure.”
The divorce papers waiting to be finalized, the challenges at YodaVision, the complicated relationship with Cora–all of it seemed suddenly more manageable under the approving gaze of a man whose opinion carried the weight of entire industries.
I stiffened at the mention of my mother’s name. Miranda Vance had abandoned our family when I was just a child, leaving behind a legacy of broken promises and heartbreak.1
“Julian Croft,” he acknowledged with a slight nod. “Your recent work on predictive algorithms is impressive.”
“Traditional methods were too limiting,” I replied, finding my vòice. “They couldn’t
account for nuance.”
“Clara Bellweather. Radiant as ever, even on your seventy–fifth birthday.”
The room fell silent. Every head turned toward him as if pulled by magnetic force. Even the waitstaff froze mid–step/drinks in hand.
I turned slowly, disbelieving. Standing at the entrance was Zachary Newman himself- tech visionary, billionaire innovator, and one of the most elusive figures in our
industry.
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In that moment, I understood something profound about my grandmother’s concerns all these years. It wasn’t just about my happiness in marriage–it was about her fear that my potential would be squandered, that I might follow my mother’s path of
abandoned dreams.
Grandmother’s expression tightened. “We nearly did.”
Grandmother sighed. “I just worry. She paused her brilliance once for that man. All those years…
My heart hammered against my ribs. “You’ve seen my work?”
Whatever it was, his presence at this dinner had shifted something fundamental. In my grandmother’s eyes, in the other guests‘ perception of me, and perhaps most importantly, in my own understanding of my path forward.
Mr. Newman nodded solemnly. “Her research on emotional response patterns in AI is groundbreaking. What YodaVision is developing under her guidance could transform how we approach artificial intelligence altogether. Her talents aren’t going to waste, Clara. They’re finally being properly utilized.”
Mr. Newman walked forward, commanding the space without effort. “I promised I would. Have I ever broken a promise to you, Clara?”
Mr. Newman approached my grandmother, taking her hands in his. “Happy birthday, old friend.” He placed a small, elegantly wrapped package on the table before her. “Something to remind you of simpler days.”
I met his gaze. “Exactly like that.”
“Elara,” Julian whispered urgently. “Come on.”
My father nodded quickly and signaled to the waitstaff. The servers sprang into action, the momentary spell of inaction broken.
Mr. Newman looked directly at me then. “Sometimes we need detours to appreciate the main road, Clara. Elara’s talents didn’t diminish during those years–they matured. Her recent work shows a depth of understanding that comes only with life
experience.”
Mr. Newman considered his response carefully. “Clara, your granddaughter has surpassed any shadow that might have been cast. She’s forged her own path.”
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“Yes, I know who you are,” Mr. Newman replied without elaborating. He gestured to the seat across from him. “Please, join us. I believe dinner is waiting to be served.”
I nodded, smoothing down my dress as I prepared to meet whoever this mystery attendee might be. Before Julian could say more, a distinct voice cut through the ambient chatter.
And somehow, it was Zachary Newman’s assessment–not Julian’s encouragement or my own assurances–that finally set her mind at ease.
Julian nudged me forward. We were meant to join them, yet my feet felt rooted to the floor. This was THE Zachary Newman–the man whose innovations had changed the tech landscape, whose approval could make or break careers. And he was here, at my grandmother’s birthday dinner, speaking to her like an old friend.
Julian nodded enthusiastically. “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying. Her algorithm for emotional pattern recognition is revolutionary precisely because of her unique perspective.”
As the first course was served, Grandmother leaned toward Mr. Newman. “Thank you for coming, Zachary. It means more than
you know.”
That voice. Deep, commanding, unmistakable.
I blinked in surprise. “You were there?”
Then Mr. Newman turned to me. “And Elara Vance. Your breakthrough on cognitive recognition patterns has stirred up quite the conversation in certain circles.”
Mr. Newman’s lips curved slightly–not quite a smile, but close. “Indeed you are. And making quite an impact, I might add. Your presentation at the Singapore conference last month caught my attention.”
I willed myself forward, Julian close beside me. As we approached, Mr. Newman’s gaze
shifted to us.
My father’s mouth hung slightly open. I’d never seen Victor Vance speechless before. Other guests whispered furiously to each other, recognizing the significance of having Zachary Newman in attendance.
“I wouldn’t have missed it, he replied. His voice softened when he spoke to her, revealing a warmth I hadn’t expected from such a formidable figure.
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“You’re certain?” Grandmother asked, her voice revealing a vulnerability I rarely witnessed.
“But we didn’t,” Mr. Newman countered. “Her talents remained dormant, not dead. And now they’re flowering again, perhaps more vibrantly for having been temporarily
constrained,”
Victor approached hesitantly. “Mr. Newman, it’s an honor to have you join us. I’m Victor Vance, Clara’s son–in–law.”
Mr. Newman stood tall in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit that somehow made him look both powerful and approachable. His silver hair was neatly styled, and behind his designer glasses, his sharp green eyes surveyed the room with calm authority.
“I make it a point to follow promising innovations,” he replied, his expression giving away nothing. “Please, sit.”
Grandmother’s eyes misted over. “You didn’t have to.”
As the main course was cleared away, Mr. Newman turned to Grandmother again. “Clara, I’ve been keeping an eye on Elara since she first showed promise at MIT. When she stepped away from her studies, I wondered if we’d lost a brilliant mind.”
Julian’s eyes widened. “Thank you, sir. That’s–that means a lot.”
“Zachary,” my grandmother whispered, her composure momentarily shaken. “You actually came.”
“How is Elara really doing?” Grandmother asked him directly, as if I weren’t sitting right there. “Miranda’s shadow has always worried me.”
Julian touched my arm gently. “Elara, our special guest has arrived.”
I nearly dropped my fork. How did he know about my divorce proceedings? I’d been careful to keep that information contained.
“Not physically. But I have my ways of staying informed.” He took a sip of water. “Your approach to Al emotional intelligence is unorthodox. Effective, but unorthodox.”
I felt warmth creep into my cheeks at their discussion of me. “I’m sitting right here, you know.”
The conversation shifted as dinner progressed. Mr. Newman spoke of global tech
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trends, Julian contributed insights about market projections, and my father attempted to steer the discussion toward potential business opportunities. Through it all, Grandmother watched with quiet satisfaction.
As dessert was served, I caught Mr. Newman studying me thoughtfully. What did he see when he looked at me? A promising talent? A reflection of my grandmother’s influence? Or perhaps something entirely different?
