The Sprawling 137

Posted by ADMINHADMIN, ? Views, Released on July 14, 2025

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137 A Mentor’s Unvarnished Truth

“Even geniuses need breaks,” he insisted. “Besides, Julian and Elara are there with their

Al mentor.”

Newman shook his head. “Not one of them showed the spark I’m looking for.”

Damien placed a hand on my shoulder. “Vivienne?”

“So, what did you think of the candidates today?”

“Yes, he’s staying there for the next few days while visiting potential students.”

Damien’s expression turned thoughtful. “Is that what you want? To be like him? Like

Julian Croft or Elara?”

Newman glanced at me, his expression neutral. “Dr. Dubois, good evening.”

The news sent a jolt through me. A second chance? Perhaps if I could speak with him again, show him how serious I was…

By afternoon, I had created a plan to catch up on the latest research and innovations. I would start my own project–something truly innovative that would make Zachary Newman regret his dismissal.

I turned to him. “Do you agree with him?”

His words hit me like a slap. These past few months, I’d been focused on car racing, social events, even shopping for Cora, My research had taken a backseat.

I frowned. “I should keep working.”

While Damien spoke softly to Cora, I stepped out of the car, needing fresh air. The night was cool, and the sky was surprisingly clear for the city. I looked up at the stars, thinking about Zachary Newman’s assessment.

Maybe this rejection was exactly what I needed. A wake–up call.

“Let’s go,” I said, suddenly energized.

“Vivienne, dear,” Eleanor said, “would you like some wine?”

I approached the group carefully, not wanting to seem eager after yesterday’s

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rejection. Julian noticed me first.

“So you’re saying I’m not dedicated enough?” I asked.

“Almost seven,” he replied, looking amused. “You’ve been at it for nearly ten hours straight.”

“Probably,” Damien agreed. “You have the talent, Vivienne. But maybe Newman saw that you haven’t been immersed in cutting–edge research lately.”

“That’s a good sign,” he said, setting a sandwich beside me. “Eat. Then we can head

over to the villa. Eleanor invited us for after–dinner drinks.”

Damien joined me outside a few minutes later. “Cora says goodnight. She wants us

both to come tuck her in tomorrow.”

Elara nodded and followed Julian inside without another word.

The drive back was silent. Damien kept glancing at me, but I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur together. When we finally reached the parking lot outside his office building, he killed the engine.

“I want respect,” I finally said. “I want to be recognized for my mind, not just as your girlfriend or Elara’s half–sister.”

Damien didn’t answer immediately. “Elara was different back in university. She would forget to eat when she was working on a project.”

An hour later, Newman emerged from the house with Julian and Elara. Their conversation seemed animated, filled with technical terms I struggled to follow. They had clearly moved beyond the basics I had studied today.

The words stung, but I maintained my composure. “And how does one develop this spark?”

Julian turned to Newman. “Shall we continue our discussion inside? I’d like to show

you the prototype.”

I felt a familiar twinge of jealousy. CUAP–Contextual Understanding and Anticipatory Processing–was Elara’s breakthrough algorithm that had catapulted her to academic fame at just twenty–two.

Hours later, I heard Damien return.

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As Eleanor served dessert, I tried again to engage Newman in conversation about Al ethics, a topic I felt confident discussing.

I stood motionless as Zachary Newman walked away. My carefully crafted image of myself as a brilliant AI prodigy crumbled with each step he took.

And there was Elara, looking effortlessly elegant in a simple white dress, observing their discussion with quiet intelligence. She always managed to seem perfectly at home in these settings, despite her humble origins.

It wasn’t praise, but it wasn’t dismissal either.

“Then what is it about?” I demanded.

“I’m saying Newman works with people who are obsessed. People who would cancel dinner with the Queen to finish coding a new neural network.”

Newman listened, his expression unreadable. When I finished, he simply nodded. “You’ve done your homework.”

“He was harsh,” Damien said finally.

I looked up, surprised to see that it was already dark outside. “What time is it?”

“Answer it,” I said. “I need a moment anyway.”

“You do agree,” I said flatly.

It was a test, and I knew it. I launched into a detailed analysis of his methodology, citing specific examples from his paper. I had spent three hours studying it this

afternoon.

head

His confidence in me helped soothe the sting of Newman’s rejection. I rested my against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “I will,” I promised. “Starting tomorrow.”

I felt a flicker of hope. “So it’s not about my ability. It’s about my focus.”

“I can change that,” I said with renewed determination.

*You haven’t moved since I left. That’s the focus Newman was looking for. Proud of you.*

“There is if you want to be exceptional,” I countered. “Newman was right about that. The truly revolutionary minds don’t care about balance.”

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“Vivienne,” he said with a nod. “We were just discussing the limitations of current natural language processing systems.”

Before I could respond, Julian reappeared on the terrace. “Elara, could you join us? Zachary has questions about the neural pathway integration.”

“Your career matters to you,” Damien said, “but so does the rest of your life. There’s nothing wrong with balance.”

The Thorne family villa was lit up when we arrived. The housekeeper led us to the garden terrace where everyone was gathered. Eleanor greeted us warmly, but my eyes immediately found Zachary Newman, deep in conversation with Julian Croft.

I pulled away from his touch. The rejection stung more than I wanted to admit.

I was so engrossed in my research that I barely noticed when Damien left for a meeting. My phone buzzed with a text from him around noon:

Vivienne’s POV

My head snapped up. “Newman’s at the villa?”

I forced a smile. “He didn’t reject me outright this time.”

Newman nodded and followed Julian into the house, leaving me with Elara and

Damien.

“Yes, and that’s impressive. But when was the last time you spent a weekend working on a new algorithm instead of at the racetrack?”

“That went better,” Damien said encouragingly.

I had just been reading about this. “The contextual understanding is still problematic,” I offered. “Especially with cultural nuances.”

The next morning, I woke up early and immediately went to my laptop. I spent hours researching the latest developments in AI that I’d missed while focusing on other things. The technology had evolved rapidly, and I had fallen behind.

The revelation was both painful and relieving. If the problem was my recent distractions rather than some fundamental lacking, then it was fixable.

Damien sighed. “Zachary Newman doesn’t just want smart people. He wants

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innovators who eat, sleep, and breathe AI.”

Damien’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it. “It’s Cora again.”

I stretched, feeling the stiffness in my shoulders. “I lost track of time.”

Before I could answer, Julian chuckled. “Zachary, don’t be too harsh. Not everyone can be Elara at twenty–two.”

“Is she?” Newman asked, his tone neutral.

His eyebrow lifted slightly. “Which aspect did you find most compelling?”

The question made me pause. Did I want to be that consumed by my work? Did I want to be the kind of person who forgot meals because an algorithm was more interesting?

His message made me smile. This was just the beginning. I would prove myself worthy not just to Newman, but to everyone who doubted me.

“Not at the level I require,” his words echoed in my mind.

Julian nodded. “CUAP was revolutionary. I still remember when she first explained the

concept to me.”

“It’s not about your intelligence,” he said carefully. “You’re brilliant, Vivienne. You know

that.”

The conversation moved on, but the implication hung in the air. At twenty–five, I still couldn’t even come close to what Elara had achieved years ago with CUAP.

“Let’s just go,” I said, reaching for my purse.

“The spark?” I asked, unable to help myself.

“Mr. Newman,” I replied, keeping my tone professional. “I’ve been reviewing your paper on ethical frameworks in decision–making algorithms. Your approach to the trolley problem is particularly interesting.”

He listened politely, but I could tell his mind was elsewhere. When there was a lull in the conversation, Julian turned to him.

“I have a PhD in artificial intelligence!”

I nodded, but my mind was elsewhere. “I’ve been distracted,” I admitted. “Racing,

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socializing, playing stepmother. I neglected what really matters.”

“Have you eaten?” he asked, poking his head into the study.

“Vivienne is working on some innovative concepts as well,” Damien interjected, his hand finding mine under the table.

I leaned back against the headrest. “Like Elara,” I said bitterly.

Damien pulled me closer. “Then show them what you’re capable of.”

Newman considered me for a moment. “Some people have it innately. Others cultivate it through years of obsessive work and genuine curiosity.” He glanced briefly at Elara. “Your sister had it from the first day of my undergraduate seminar.”

Elara watched me with those careful, observant eyes of hers. “Zachary values persistence,” she said quietly. “But more than that, he values honest self–assessment.”