The Calculus of Morning

The Calculus of Morning
Madam Scott marched into the dining room like a general inspecting her troops—only to find her newly married “troops” eating breakfast in silence.
She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you both look like someone cancelled your honeymoon? This is the age to fight over bedsheets and burnt toast, not sit like retired monks!”
William raised an eyebrow. “Good morning to you too, grandma.”
“I had a better morning before seeing two gloomy faces across my dining table.”
Skylar smiled and slid a plate toward her. “Here, have some breakfast. I made your favourite—soft poha, no chilies.”
Grandma stared at the plate as if it were an insult to her legacy. “Where’s my chilli sause? The tang? Am I a patient now? Is this a punishment for all my sins?”
“You said yesterday your stomach was acting up,” Skylar reminded her gently.
“Acting up doesn’t mean I’ve lost my taste buds! I want something that says I’m alive, not something you’d serve at a yoga retreat!”
William snorted into his coffee, and Skylar sighed, already heading back to the kitchen. “Fine, one spicy pancake coming up before you disown us.”
As Skylar walked away, Grandma grumbled to herself, “First they steal my youth, my love, then they rob my food joy. What’s next? My TV remote?”
Later that morning, as William rolled their weekend bag to the door, Madam Scott caught them like a hawk spotting prey.
"Where do you think you're going?" she demanded, arms folded, eyes sharp behind her glasses.
Skylar, half in her heels, half balancing her purse, smiled sweetly. “Back home, grandma. You said you’d had enough of us yesterday.”
“That was yesterday. Today I woke up lonely. The house echoed like a haunted palace. Even the swing in the garden creaked sadly!”
William raised a brow. “Grandma, you literally banned me from the kitchen last night because you said I breathe too loudly while you watched your show.”
“Drama needs silence, not your heavy-footed pacing!” she retorted. Then her expression softened dramatically. “But now... now I feel a chill in my bones. A loneliness in my heart. Two days. Just two days and then you can leave this poor old woman to rot in peace.”
“Grandma!” Skylar exclaimed.
Madam Scott sighed heavily and touched her forehead like she was about to faint. “No one cares for old bones anymore. I’ll be a distant memory by Monday. You’ll come to light incense near my photo and say—oh how she used to cook fenugreek pancake...”
William looked at Skylar. “She’s invoking her own memorial again.”
Skylar groaned. “Fine. One weekend. But no more emotional blackmail.”
Madam Scott instantly straightened up like a soldier. “Deal. Now unpack, and don’t forget—you promised to make spicy Shezwan Sause for lunch.”
“Wait—when did I promise that?”
“Just now. Spiritually. I heard it in your eyes.”
Later that afternoon, the Scott mansion had fallen into its usual weekend hush.
Madam Scott was dozing peacefully in the sunroom, a book titled "101 Ways to Guilt Your Grandchildren" slipping from her hand.
William had taken refuge in the study, sleeves rolled up, eyes focused on his laptop screen. Spreadsheets and security reports blinked before him, but his mind kept drifting—to her.
Meanwhile, down the hall in the guest bedroom, Skylar sat cross-legged on the floor, her laptop balanced on the low ottoman. The soft hum of the AC blended with the muted clacks of her keyboard. Her expression was focused, sharp.
A USB device blinked beside her—an old storage unit she'd kept hidden for years. Inside it, encrypted data she'd once sworn to destroy. Now, she was reviving it.
Lines of code flickered as she ran a deep data recovery tool, tracing old logs, server routes, and dark net imprints.
“Come on…” she whispered, eyes narrowing.
The hotel archive’s ghost file was appearing—fragmented, corrupted, but not lost.
If I can find the missing minutes from that night… I’ll know what William never told me.
Her mind raced back to what he’d said at breakfast: “More than my life.” The way he hadn’t revealed what had been stolen still burned in her chest.
“You went after the thief… but someone went after the truth.”
She copied the raw fragments to her drive, encrypting them again with her own signature: VIRUS.
Just then, a knock on the door.
“Young master's asking if you want coffee,” called a house help.
Skylar slammed her laptop shut and composed her face.
“Coming,” she said lightly.
She slipped the USB into her scarf drawer and headed out, her heart pounding louder than her footsteps.
The entire evening in old Scott house was nothing but a dramatic chaos and by the time the clock struck ten, Skylar was convinced that grandma could single-handedly exhaust the nation’s youth population.
Dinner had barely ended when Grandma clapped her hands and demanded everyone join her for “family bonding.” That meant a board game she insisted was “all about luck”—though somehow, she won every round, mostly by cheating shamelessly.
“No, no,” she tutted when William pointed out her fifth illegal move in Ludo, “the rules changed in 1982. You weren’t even born.”
Skylar exchanged a look with William across the table, half amused, half defeated. He leaned back, arms crossed, while his grandmother cheerfully declared herself “Queen of the Board.”
Three rounds, five arguments, and a dramatic card-throwing incident later, Skylar had to press her temples to avoid laughing.
As she gathered the cards, she muttered under her breath, “Now I understand why you moved out.”
William barely suppressed a grin.
Thankfully, salvation arrived when grandma checked the time.
“Oh ho! My show time. I can’t miss tonight—Diana will find out her real mother!” she gasped, clutching her pearls like it was national news. “You children clean this mess, hmm?”
Before either of them could argue, she was off— her dress fluttered as she marched to the TV room like a queen entering court.
William shook his head and got up, muttering something about fresh air. “I’m going to the garden. Need to check in with Jack.”
Skylar nodded absently, already clocking the opportunity.
She knew his ‘calls’ would take at least an hour—especially if it was about security or leads. That gave her the perfect window.
As soon as his footsteps faded down the hall, she slipped away from the living area, her face calm but her pulse picking up.
Back in the guest room, she locked the door, drew the curtains, and pulled her laptop and USB drive from their hiding spot beneath the scarves.
She plugged it into her laptop, the faint hum of the fan picking up as the system booted. Her fingers flew over the keyboard.
Lines of recovered footage had finished syncing from her earlier session—more than she'd expected. She scanned through them again. The hallway. The thief. The stolen watch. William giving chase.
And then—her.
Evelyn Nelson.
In grainy black and white, Evelyn stepped from behind a corner near the fire exit. She was calm, almost smug, handing a thick envelope to the hotel staffer, who handed her the object in return. The metallic flash of the pocket watch caught in the light as she slid it quickly into her clutch.
Skylar’s breath left her in a silent exhale.
It had been her father's watch. His keepsake. The one he'd locked away so tightly after the scandal broke. The only thing left untouched by the ruin.
Her throat tightened.
William had run after the man who stole it. He hadn’t told her, hadn’t even defended himself. He just… carried the weight silently. For her.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she clicked to export the footage. Her signature sealed it: VIRUS_Recovery_001.
Without hesitating, she tapped open a secure call.
“Nora,” she whispered.
The line crackled before Nora’s voice came through. “Sky? Late call… I’m guessing you found something?”
“I found everything,” she said, her voice low, calm. “It was Evelyn. She paid off the hotel staff. Took the watch from the thief and helped him get away.”
There was a long pause. “And you're sure it's her?”
“I enhanced the frame. It’s Evelyn, no doubt. Who else would go this far to ruin me? To keep William away?”
“And the watch?”
“My father’s.” Her voice dropped. “That’s what William ran after that night. That’s what he never told me.”
A beat.
“So?” Nora asked gently. “What now? Are we leaking it? Naming names?”
Skylar stared at the paused frame of Evelyn’s face. “No,” she said quietly. “Not yet.”
“You’re going to wait?”
“Yes. I want to see what William does when he finds out. I want to know if he’ll choose truth… or loyalty.”
A brief silence passed between them.
Nora cleared her throat. “They’ve been asking for your recovery fee. What do I tell them?”
Skylar's eyes narrowed slightly, cool calculation slipping into her voice. “Fifty million. I want them to feel what real value looks like.”
Nora chuckled. “You’ve got it.”
The call ended.
Without missing a beat, Skylar opened her secure banking app and watched as the encrypted transaction completed. Her price had been paid.
She scrolled to her brother’s name and hit call.
“Arnold,” she said when he picked up.
“All good?” he asked.
“The payment’s been made,” she said. “Begin the final move. Start buying shares of Nelson Group. Quietly. Patiently. We end this our way.”
Arnold didn’t ask questions. He didn’t have to.
“Done.”
As the line disconnected, Skylar sat back in the glow of her screen, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips.