I'm The King of Business & Technology in the Modern World-Chapter 204: Stress Test

May 8th, 2024 — 5:10 AM

Aurora Central Hub — Control Room

The lights in the control room were dim, the way they always were during overnight testing hours. Screens lined the walls in a soft, glowing grid of blue and green—live readouts, telemetry feeds, and diagnostics all humming quietly in sync.

Angel stood with a mug of coffee that had long gone cold, her eyes fixed on TBM Aurora's updated startup sequence rolling in real-time across the central display.

"Telemetry stable," came the quiet voice of the night shift lead. "Cutterhead calibration complete. RPM baseline holding steady."

Matthew stepped into the room, still shrugging into his jacket, hair damp from a rushed morning shower. "Anything abnormal?" he asked, already halfway to her side.

Angel shook her head. "Nothing since 0400. She's clean."

He nodded, shoulders relaxing. "Good."

She didn't take her eyes off the screen. "But I want to sit on this phase a little longer before we advance. I don't want another ghost spike."

Matthew leaned close to her shoulder. "Agreed. We hold the idle sequence for another twenty minutes. Full subroutine monitoring."

Angel looked up at him finally. "Did you sleep?"

Matthew grinned. "Define sleep."

Angel rolled her eyes but smirked anyway. "You're impossible."

"And you're stubborn," he replied. "We work."

They stood there, shoulder to shoulder, watching the heartbeat of the machine they'd spent years building finally return to rhythm.

But beneath the control and data and diagnostics, something else was forming. Not a problem. Not a glitch.

A plan.

—

8:00 AM — Rockwell, Angel's Apartment

The morning rush was barely beginning when Angel finally walked through her own front door. She kicked off her boots, dropped her tablet on the counter, and immediately peeled off her blazer.

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

She walked into the living room, half expecting to see the couch unmade, a mug still on the table from the night before—but it was clean. Tidy.

Visit fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm for the best novel reading experi𝒆nce.

And there, pinned to the fridge with a souvenir magnet from Subic, was a sheet of paper.

Angel paused.

Then stepped forward.

It wasn't a note.

It was a printout.

A Gantt chart.

Her eyes scanned the title:

Operation Forever: Milestone Review Update — Draft 2

Below it, bullet points with Matthew's usual dry precision:

Ring finalization (Pending CAD model preview)

Venue inquiry: Taal Heritage House (Response pending)

Backup power routing plan (Yes, seriously)

Seating optimization (Pending "vibe" approval)

Music shortlist (Jazz, string quartet, acoustic OPM)

First dance song: Still negotiating

Angel exhaled a laugh and shook her head.

He was ridiculous.

And maybe a little perfect.

—

10:00 AM — Sentinel HQ, BGC — Morning Operations Briefing

"TBM Aurora resumed tunneling at 0600 this morning," Angel reported crisply to the room. "All systems green. No telemetry drops since reboot. Diagnostic logs will remain active throughout the next 24-hour cycle."

She stepped aside as Matthew took the floor next.

"The firmware issue has been traced, documented, and patched. The redundant systems protocol has also been updated. We've added manual override locks on Segment Class 2B—just in case."

One of the engineers raised a hand. "Are we still targeting the June completion milestone for Phase 3?"

Angel and Matthew looked at each other.

Then Angel nodded. "Yes. We build through."

There were murmurs of relief. Some nods. The confidence in her voice was the kind that made even nervous contractors lean forward and take notes.

—

12:45 PM — HQ Cafeteria

They sat across from each other again, trays half-eaten, Angel's tablet between them showing side-by-side diagrams of station entry flow and—somehow—wedding seating arrangements.

"You seriously diagrammed the table dynamics," Angel said, pointing at the chart. "That's excessive."

Matthew shrugged. "It's risk management. You don't want your aunt sitting next to a former boss who ghosted you after your first big contract."

Angel blinked. "...That's eerily specific."

"Preparedness," he said with a smirk.

She leaned back. "If you're doing all the planning, what do I get to do?"

Matthew paused. "Vows?"

She narrowed her eyes. "You're afraid of what I'll write, aren't you?"

"Terrified."

Angel grinned. "Good."

—

3:30 PM — HQ Archive Bay, Lower Levels

Angel hadn't expected to be pulled into the storage levels that afternoon, but one of the new interns needed help retrieving hard documentation from the early tunnel feasibility studies.

She scanned through rows of labeled folders, the scent of old paper and printed ink strangely calming.

As she pulled a file marked Pulse: Inception Phase, a loose slip of paper fell from between the pages.

It wasn't a report.

It was a photo.

She picked it up, eyes widening.

It was them.

From over a year ago. Early construction. Helmets on. Dusty boots. Smiling after some ungodly 18-hour shift. Someone must have snapped it without them noticing.

She stared at it for a long second.

Then smiled.

Pocketed it.

And walked back to the elevator with something a little lighter in her chest.

—

6:00 PM — Rockwell, Matthew's Apartment

The sun dipped past the skyline as Angel let herself in with her spare key.

Matthew was in the kitchen, halfway through chopping vegetables, an apron around his waist. Music played softly from the speaker—something jazzy but upbeat.

"You're cooking?" she asked, dropping her bag near the counter.

"Trying," he said. "Figured it's my turn."

Angel raised an eyebrow. "Planning a surprise proposal too, or…?"

He turned and held up a ladle like a sword. "You'll never get it out of me."

She walked over and kissed his cheek. "Was worth a try."

—

8:00 PM — Couch, Blanket, Wine

They curled up together on the couch, the city lights blinking beyond the balcony glass, a bottle of red open between them, and the last of the pasta dishes cooling on the table.

Matthew had his arm around her shoulders, and Angel was leaning in, the Gantt chart printout resting in her lap.

"I think I want to do it," she said softly.

He glanced down. "The wedding?"

She nodded. "Sooner than we thought."

He didn't look surprised.

"Not tomorrow," she added. "But this year. Maybe November like you said."

Matthew tightened his arm around her. "We'll make it work."

She smiled. "Together?"

He looked at her like she was the only constant in his orbit.

"Always."

—

10:00 PM — Email Drafts, Unsaved

Later, when she couldn't sleep, Angel sat in the corner chair with her tablet. No blueprints. No work dashboards.

Just a blank document.

She stared at it, then typed.

Vows (Unfinished)

Matthew,

I didn't know love could be a system.

But you showed me it could be.

Not in the rigid way people fear—but in the elegant, layered way that lives and breathes between steel and silence.

You are not perfect. And thank God, neither am I.

But what we've built together…

That might be the closest thing to it.

She stared at the screen for a long time.

Then closed it.

She didn't need to finish it yet.

The foundation was already there.

Tomorrow, they'd build again.