Page 40 of Ivory Crown

“Alright, Jade. Let’s do this,” I muttered to myself, trying to push down the clawing anxiety that threatened to rise at the thought of what I was about to undertake.

My fingers found the keyboard, and I paused for a brief moment, taking a steadying breath before they began their dance across the keys. This document I crafted under the soft buzz of fluorescent lights was more than just research; it was a lifeline masquerading as scientific inquiry. A paper on enzymes and axonal recovery—a smokescreen so thick I almost believed it myself.

But I couldn’t afford the luxury of getting lost in the work, not now, not with so much at stake. My mind churned with the details I had to encode within the document, each one a beacon for Ellie, hidden in plain sight amongst data and hypotheses.

I leaned forward, my gaze fixed on the screen, as I wove the fabric of my deception. Each sentence a thread, each paragraph a pattern only discernible to one who knew the intricacies of my mind as well as Ellie did. It had to be perfect. There was no room for error, not when every word carried the weight of my desperate plea for help.

I stared at the complex equations on my screen, their numerical symphony whispering secrets only Ellie could discern. Embedding the SOS into the intricate descriptions of enzymatic reactions had been painstaking, with each word chosen as meticulously as a scientist selects a research specimen.

“In conclusion, the catalytic hierarchy of glycoside hydrolases presents a conundrum in the context of axonal recovery. While this enzyme is inherently programmed for degradation, optimally engineered applications may harness its potential to facilitate the regeneration process,” I read aloud, my voice bouncing eerily off the sterile lab walls. I mean, that was all true. Ellie was smart, but she wasn’t a mind reader. I needed to add some…nonsense. Something that would throw her off, that would make her dig deeper.

“Okay, try again,” I said to no one. “Okay…The hierarchical dynamics of glycoside hydrolases, entangled within the fractal patterns of axonal regeneration pathways, present a baffling paradox. While these catalytic enzymes are algorithmically primed for metabolic breakdown, the esoteric integration of quantum flux modulation may spur unforeseen synergies to catalyze neural exogenesis.”

Perfect. That was almost all nonsense now.

I leaned back in my chair, the tension in my shoulders unspooling ever so slightly. For a moment, there was nothing but the quiet whirring of the lab equipment and the distant sounds of the city that never sleeps. But somewhere deep inside, where fear couldn’t reach, a spark of rebellion ignited. I would get us the baby out of this…somehow.

I couldn’t focus any more on work…I needed to do something else. Anything else. And the quiet in this penthouse was driving me crazy.

“Hey, little one,” I murmured, my hands instinctively resting on the gentle swell of my belly as I began to pace the confines of Dante’s luxurious penthouse. “You gave me a scare today. Don’t do that again, okay?”

This felt a little silly, but the sound of my own voice was oddly grounding, so I decided to keep talking.

“You know, your mommy grew up with two amazing siblings. My brother could solve any math problem in seconds, and my sister, well, she was a walking encyclopedia. Your uncle, he learned to play guitar at six and your aunt, she spoke three languages before she was ten. Now, I don’t expect you to be a child prodigy or anything, but who knows? Maybe you’ll have your uncle’s musical talent or your aunt’s knack for languages.”

As I spoke, soothing myself with familiar family stories, the pain in my abdomen lessened and the tight knot of anxiety began to unravel. I moved about the spacious room, trying to imagine it filled with children’s laughter and toys. The walls didn’t seem as cold and imposing when I imagined them covered in crayon drawings. The harsh lines of the modern furniture softened when I pictured them littered with stuffed animals, sippy cups, and storybooks.

I dreamed of normalcy for my baby – birthday parties with friends from school, playdates at the park, science fairs...

But I didn’t know if I was going to get any of that if I stayed here.

I chuckled softly, a little sadly; the sound was hollow in the vast emptiness. “But Dad...he was always so distant, buried in his work. It’s funny; I spent my life chasing his approval through my own research. Can you believe that? The man couldn’t give less of a shit about the brain. Which, wild, considering if we didn’t have a brain we couldn’t even study physics, but…”

“Anyway,” I continued, massaging my swelling stomach gently. “I want you to know that you are already loved. You’re already so much more than a tiny cluster of cells dividing within me… you’re precious and I’m going to protect you, no matter what.”

Turning slowly, I gazed out at the city skyline, the evening lights flickering like distant stars. “My mom is going to flip out when she hears about you. You’re her first grandchild. Your grandma was different, though. She was there—really there—for us. Every school play, every scraped knee, every bedtime story. She’s a teacher, you know? Devoted her life to her students... and to us.”

I paused, wondering. “Will I be like her? Or will I get lost in my work too? And what about your daddy, Dante? What kind of father will he be?”

The thought led me unsteadily into the living room, where I continued my restless pacing. Dante’s smile tried to creep into my thoughts—the way it transformed his brooding face, how his dark eyes would soften, almost vulnerable, when they found mine. I clenched my fists, forcing the image away.

No, I couldn’t afford those distractions. Not now. The love I felt for him—a love I didn’t even understand myself—was tangled up with fear, knotted tightly with desperation. It was a web I wasn’t sure I had the strength to untie.

“I need to talk to my mom. She has to know. She deserves to know,” I whispered to the empty air, craving the comfort of her voice, the simple pleasure stripped from me by the walls of this opulent prison. If only I could hear her tell me everything was going to be okay, that she was proud of me, that she loved me no matter what.

A single tear trailed down my cheek, and I brushed it away angrily. There was no room for weakness here. I had to be strong—for both of us.

And when I got out of here…I was sure my mom would be waiting for me.

Chapter Seventeen: Dante

Ipushed open the door to the coffee shop, the crisp air of an autumn morning in New York clinging like a lingering ghost to my overcoat. The familiar scent of roasted coffee beans hit me as soon as I stepped inside, a welcome reprieve from the biting chill outside. This little spot, just down the block from my penthouse, was one of the few places where I could steal moments of peace away from the empire that demanded every ounce of my attention.

“Regular cappuccino and a mocha frappucino, right?” The barista didn’t need to ask; she already knew the order by heart.

“Throw in a couple of those chocolate pastries, too,” I said, thinking of Jade’s sweet tooth.

My eyes swept the room as I waited, taking in everything and everyone as second nature dictated. It’s funny how these things become part of you—scanning for threats, weighing opportunities—it’s the lifeblood of my world. And then I saw him.

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