134 Resolutions Before Sunrise
The room quieted. My cousins exchanged glances before tactfully excusing themselves to “check on dessert.” That left just Uncle Victor, Grandmother, and me–the core of the Bellweather family.
The car pulled up to the professor’s sprawling villa at 8:50 AM. Through the windows, I‘ could already see Julian gesturing animatedly as he spoke with someone.
“He mentioned your sustainable energy project. Said he had connections who might be
interested.”
“I’m handling it.” I kept my voice steady. The truth was, I hadn’t fully decided how to approach that battle. Damien had resources I couldn’t match, but I had documentation of his neglect over the years. It would be ugly if contested.
“Be careful,” Uncle Victor finally said. “If Damien is making moves on my project through his people, he’s planning something.”
But I straightened my shoulders and focused on the screens before me. This was my choice–reclaiming my career, proving my worth beyond being Mrs. Thorne. The path forward wouldn’t be easy, but I’d walk it anyway.
The coffee helped, but couldn’t fully dispel the fog of exhaustion. I reviewed my notes during the drive, preparing for the presentation as best I could. Julian’s latest text warned me that Professor Weber was in “rare form” this morning. Great.
Beck’s parting words echoed in my head as I stood on the porch, watching him walk away. Something about that phrase tugged at my memory. It was almost identical to what Damien had said to me earlier this evening.
“Don’t keep us in the dark, Elara,” Grandmother said. “We’re your family. Whatever you need–legal support, testimony about Damien’s behavior toward you and Cora–we’re
here.”
I shook off the unsettling feeling and went back inside my grandmother’s house. The remaining family members looked up as I entered the living room. Uncle Victor raised his eyebrows in silent question.
“Which means Damien has everything to do with it,” Grandmother concluded dryly.
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I typed back: *Final testing now. Should be ready by 4:30.*
“I’ll have breakfast waiting,” she promised, squeezing my hand.
Elara’s POV
Her straightforward support loosened something tight in my chest. I’d expected more resistance, more questions about trying to make it work for Cora’s sake.
“Elara, finally. We need to recalibrate the response parameters. The algorithm’s prediction accuracy is off by 3.4%.”
“I’m fine,” I assured her with a quick kiss on her cheek.
I rubbed my temples, fighting off a headache. Three hours of sleep. It would have to be enough.
Professor Weber stood in the center of his living room, surrounded by digital displays. He barely looked up as I entered.
“My thoughts exactly.” I pulled out the business card. “He was very insistent that Damien had nothing to do with the offer.”
Her words followed me out the door.
“I’ll be right down.”
I nodded, summoning what little energy I had left. “Let me see what he wants.”
“I’m going through with the divorce,” I stated firmly. “My mind is made up.”
My phone chimed with an incoming message. I checked it and sighed.
I nodded, pocketing Beck’s business card. “Just a work matter.” The lie came easily. I’d discuss Beck’s strange offer with Uncle Victor later, in private.
Uncle Victor’s eyes narrowed. “Did he now? Interesting timing.”
“At least stay here tonight,” Grandmother said. “Work in your old room. I don’t like the thought of you driving home this tired.”
Grandmother waited downstairs with a travel mug of coffee and a small bag.
“The night wind is chilly. You should head inside.”
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134 Resolutions Before Sunrise
Grandmother frowned. “At this hour? Can’t it wait until morning?”
Grandmother Clara watched me with shrewd eyes. Even at eighty, nothing escaped her notice. She patted the seat beside her on the sofa.
Uncle Victor shook his head. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. Divorce proceedings, custody concerns, this new research position–it’s a lot for anyone to handle.”
The lie hung between us, acknowledged but unchallenged.
“No, you’re not.” Her eyes were concerned. “But you will be. Remember, divorce is just a word. Freedom is what comes after.”
I set down my bag and coffee, shrugging off my coat. There was no time to rest, no moment to gather myself. Just the immediate demands of the work.
Grandmother nodded slowly. “Good. It’s long overdue.”
My eyes burned as I stared at the lines of code on my laptop. The clock on the wall showed 3:47 AM. I’d been working for hours, fueled by coffee and determination.
I smoothed down my blouse, took a deep breath, and walked to the door on legs that felt like lead. Julian opened it before I could knock.
The sleek company car idled in the driveway. The driver opened the door as I approached, and I sank gratefully into the backseat.
“Breakfast,” she explained, handing me both. “You look exhausted, Elara.”
Julian gave me an apologetic look as he pulled up the display.
“I’m fine,” I insisted, though the bone–deep fatigue suggested otherwise.
The persistent buzzing of my phone dragged me back to consciousness.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that Uncle Victor had noticed. He missed nothing, especially when it came to business.
“I tested it extensively last night,” I began.
The algorithm finally cooperated at 4:10 AM. I sent it off to Julian with a note
explaining the changes, then collapsed onto my old bed without bothering to change. Sleep claimed me instantly.
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I nodded, grateful for the suggestion. “Thank you. I’ll need to leave early though.”
“Not good enough,” he cut me off. “These investors expect perfection. Julian, bring up- the neural network visualization.”
*You’re a lifesaver. Mecting at Weber’s villa at 9 AM. I’ll send a car.*
I took the offered seat, suddenly feeling the weight of the day pressing down on me.
“Not if we want to keep our department funding,” I replied with a tired smile. “The joys of academia.”
“The car’s outside,” Julian said. “Sorry, but Weber moved the meeting up.”
I glanced at the clock: 7:30 AM. I’d slept for barely three hours.
We fell silent, each lost in thought. The Thornes and Bellweathers had a complex history–business rivals turned reluctant allies through my marriage. Now that alliance was crumbling.
“What about custody arrangements?” Uncle Victor asked, his brow furrowed with
concern.
A coincidence? Perhaps. But in my experience, coincidences around Damien Thorne
were rare.
Julian squeezed my arm in silent support as we dove into the work, racing against the clock and my dwindling reserves of energy.
“Everything alright?” he asked.
As I moved to Professor Weber’s side, the exhaustion hit me in waves. Three hours of sleep after an emotional day and night of intensive work. The divorce decision hanging over me. Cora’s face as she left with Damien. Beck’s strange offer. It all swirled together, threatening to overwhelm me.
I reached for her hand. “I know. But right now, I need to handle this my way.”
“It’s Julian. Professor Weber/sent over an assignment that needs to be completed by 6 AM for some government presentation.” I stood up. “I should head home and get
started.”
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The familiar desk in my childhood bedroom hadn’t changed. The same lamp cast its warm glow over the polished wood as I worked through the night. Julian had sent over a complex Al algorithm that needed tweaking for Professor Weber’s presentation to potential investors.
“Come sit, Elara. Tell us what’s truly on your mind.”
I splashed cold water on my face, changed into fresh clothes from my emergency bag, and applied minimal makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes. A quick brush through my hair and I was presentable, if not refreshed.
“Hello?” My voice was rough with sleep.
“Thank God you’re here,” he whispered, pulling me inside. “Weber’s been impossible. The investors are arriving in thirty minutes, and he’s changing everything.”
“Let’s get started,” I said, my voice stronger than I felt. “We have thirty minutes to perfect this.”
Uncle Victor leaned forward. “Beck Fairchild approached you just now, didn’t he? What did he want?”
My phone buzzed with a text from Julian: *Almost done? Weber’s having a meltdown.*
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