Chapter 38: Unwanted Distractions
The morning after Nathaniel’s fever broke, I was reviewing quarterly reports from the facility’s research division when my phone buzzed with a text from Sabrina.
Missing you already. Where did you disappear to so suddenly?
I deleted the message without responding, but three more followed in quick succession:
Adrian, don’t ignore me. You promised we’d stay in touch.
I could fly out wherever you are. Keep you company during those boring business meetings.
Just give me a location. I’ll be discrete.
The desperation bleeding through her texts was both pathetic and annoying. Sabrina’s usefulness lay in her connections and her willingness to be available when I needed discrete companionship, not in her ability to insert herself into situations where she wasn’t wanted.
I typed back a curt response: Be patient. I’ll contact you when I return. No distractions needed.
Her reply came immediately: But I need to see you. That scene at your house… your wife looked at me like I was nothing. Like what we had was nothing.
What we had was exactly what it was—convenient and temporary. Don’t read more into it than exists.
Adrian, please—
I turned the phone off entirely. Sabrina’s neediness was becoming more liability than asset, and I had more important matters requiring my attention.
The facility’s quarterly review was scheduled for this afternoon, and the research metrics were impressive. Twelve genetically enhanced children currently in various stages of development, with success rates exceeding projections by thirty percent. The psychological conditioning protocols were showing particularly promising results.
“Mr. Thorne?” Dr. Chen appeared in my temporary office doorway. “The department heads are ready for the quarterly review.”
The conference room overlooked the facility’s recreational areas, where children played under careful supervision—their enhanced abilities evident in their coordination, problem-solving skills, and social interactions. Each child represented millions in research investment and future earnings potential.
“Genetic marker stability remains at ninety-six percent,” Dr. Reyes, the head of genetic development, reported. “Intelligence enhancement is tracking fifteen to twenty percent above baseline across all subjects.”
“Psychological conditioning?” I asked.
“Excellent compliance rates,” Dr. jack confirmed. “Attachment to authority figures remains strong while maintaining healthy peer relationships within the facility environment.”
“And subject N-7?” The clinical designation for Nathaniel, used to maintain professional detachment during facility discussions.
“Responding exceptionally well to the latest neural enhancement protocols,” Dr. Chen said. “The fever was a minor setback, but cognitive development continues to exceed projections.”
Neural enhancement protocols. The treatments are designed to optimize brain function while ensuring psychological dependence on facility structure. Nathaniel was receiving the most advanced version—not just intelligence enhancement, but emotional conditioning that would make him the perfect heir.
“Timeline for phase two integration?”
“We recommend another six months of current protocols before introducing advanced behavioral modification,” Dr. Reyes said. “Subject N-7’s genetic profile suggests he can handle more aggressive enhancement than typical subjects, but we want to ensure psychological stability.”
Psychological stability. The delicate balance between creating superior ability and maintaining functional humanity. Push too hard, too fast, and subjects could develop serious mental health issues. Progress too slowly, and the window for optimal conditioning closed.
“Approved,” I said. “Continue current protocols with monthly assessments.”
The meeting concluded with updates on facility security, budget projections, and recruitment strategies for expanding the program to additional locations. Everything was proceeding according to plan—profitable, discrete, and producing results that justified the enormous investment.
But as I made my way back to Nathaniel’s wing, my phone buzzed with an incoming call from Calla.
“Hello, beautiful,” I answered, settling into my temporary office while keeping my voice warm and intimate despite the clinical environment surrounding me.
“Adrian,” Calla’s voice carried that breathless quality that meant she was genuinely happy to hear from me. “I missed your voice. How are the negotiations going?”
“Complicated but promising,” I lied smoothly. “The client is… demanding. Requires personal attention to every detail.”
In the background, I could hear the distant sound of children during their afternoon play period—not words, but the general noise of young children at various stages of development.
“I’m sorry you’re having to deal with difficult people,” she said. “I know how much you hate having your time wasted.”
“It’s the nature of international business,” I replied, moving away from the areas where the sounds might carry more clearly.
From down the hall, I heard Nathaniel’s distinctive laugh—not language, but the kind of delighted giggle that one-year-olds made when something amused them. Mrs. Sterling was probably playing peek-a-boo or some other simple game.
“How are you managing without me?” I asked, redirecting Calla’s attention.
“Missing you terribly,” Calla admitted. “The house feels so empty. I keep expecting to see you in your study or hear you coming up the stairs.”
Missing me terribly. The conditioning was working perfectly—my absence created genuine distress, reinforcing her psychological dependence on my presence.
“Just two more days,” I promised. “Then I’ll be home and we can pick up where we left off.”
“I’m looking forward to that,” she said, and I could hear the anticipation in her voice. “I’ve been… thinking about what you promised before you left.”
What I promised. The night of pleasure I’d dangled before her like a reward, then snatched away with this necessary trip. Her desire for that promise to be fulfilled would make her even more compliant upon my return.
“Have you been a good girl while I’ve been away?” I asked, letting my voice drop to that intimate register that always made her breath catch.
“Very good,” she whispered. “Quiet, peaceful. Just waiting for you to come home.”
“Dada!”
Nathaniel’s voice carried clearly through the corridor—excited, happy, probably having spotted Mrs. Sterling returning from somewhere. The word was unmistakably clear, followed by what sounded like the crash of blocks being knocked over.
I saw Calla’s breath catch through the phone’s silence.
“What was that?” she asked.
“What was what?” I moved further from the source of the sound, but could still hear Nathaniel babbling contentedly to himself.
“I thought I heard…” Calla paused, uncertainty coloring her voice. “It sounded like a child. A baby saying… daddy?”
“Up! Up!” came Nathaniel’s voice again, followed by more delighted laughter.
“Oh, that,” I said casually, my mind racing to construct a believable explanation. “The hotel is hosting some kind of family conference. Children everywhere, I’m afraid. Makes it difficult to concentrate on serious negotiations.”
Hotel. The lie came smoothly, supported by the reality that luxury business hotels often did host family events.
“How annoying for you,” Calla said sympathetically. “I know how much you value quiet for important work.”
“It’s manageable,” I said, even as more sounds drifted from the play area—not words, but the general chaos of toddlers at play. “Though I’ll be happy to get back to our peaceful home.”
Our peaceful home. Where Calla waited in blissful ignorance while her son played thirty feet from where I stood.
“I should let you get back to work,” she said reluctantly. “I know these international deals require your full attention.”
“Thank you for understanding,” I said. “That’s exactly why I married you—your patience, your support, your trust in my judgment.”
Your trust in my judgment. Even when that judgment involved elaborate deceptions about where I was and why.
“I love you,” Calla said softly.
“And I love you,” I replied, meaning it in my own possessive way. “Two more days, and then I’ll show you exactly how much.”
After ending the call, I sat in the quiet office processing how close that had been to disaster. Nathaniel’s innocent calls of “Dada” and demands for “up” had nearly exposed everything—the child’s existence, the facility’s location, the elaborate web of lies I’d constructed around Calla’s reality.
I would need to be more careful going forward. Separate my calls with Calla from my time in areas where Nathaniel might be playing, ensure better distance between my working spaces and the children’s activity areas.
The irony wasn’t lost on me—managing a conversation between the woman mourning her lost child and that same child, now thriving under my care but completely unaware of her existence.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. Mrs. Sterling appeared in the doorway with Nathaniel in her arms, his dark hair still slightly damp from his afternoon nap.
“Dada!” he said immediately upon seeing me, reaching out with the automatic recognition that spoke to successful conditioning.
“Hello, little man,” I said, accepting him into my arms where he settled with complete trust.
As Nathaniel babbled contentedly and played with the buttons on my shirt, I reflected on the perfect symmetry of my situation. Calla at home, aching with desire for both my attention and the child she believed was lost. Nathaniel here, developing exactly according to plan while completely unaware of the woman who’d given him life.
Both of them are shaped by my choices, dependent on my care, existing in separate worlds that I controlled completely.
It was almost artistic in its complexity.
And in two days, I would return home to claim the rewards of maintaining such perfect control over the people I’d chosen to possess.