Chapter 18: Risk Management

Aftershocks

We lay tangled on the bed, sweat cooling, both breathing hard.

Carla’s leg was still draped across my stomach, her cheek resting against my shoulder.

I could feel her heartbeat through her skin. Fast, but calming.

“You’re not normal,” she whispered, voice muffled.

I smiled, stroking her back. “Not sure how to take that.”

“This ... this isn’t supposed to be like this. Most men can’t ... keep up. Not like this.”

I kissed the top of her head. “I just want you happy.”

“That’s part of the problem,” she said softly. “You don’t stop. You don’t fade.”

She lifted herself up slightly to look at me, biting her lip. “Someday I’m going to break trying to keep up.”

“You won’t break.”

Her eyes softened, but I could see the storm still behind them.

Ethical Lines

Later that evening, after she slipped back to her house for the night, I sat alone at my desk, scrolling through the latest project data.

The AI platform wasn’t malfunctioning. If anything, it was too effective. The algorithms were aggressively optimizing treatments based on genomic profiles, insurance tiers, and proprietary risk assessments.

The language danced dangerously close to eugenics territory. Quietly deciding who warranted aggressive care, and who didn’t.

They called it efficiency.

I called it something else.

My stomach twisted again. There were lines I never imagined myself standing near.

Unexpected Discovery

Back in her house, Carla moved quietly toward the kitchen, intending to grab water before bed.

As she passed Mama Caceres’s office, her feet slowed.

The door was open.

Mama sat in the dark, her face lit only by the glow of the monitor.

Carla’s stomach flipped as she recognized the image on the screen.

Eli’s living room. His kitchen. His bedroom. Private angles she never realized were still accessible.

Mama’s eyes were locked on Eli, shirtless, walking through his kitchen. Her breathing shallow. Her hand pressed lightly against her robe, fingertips slipping beneath the fabric.

Carla froze. Heat rose in her chest — but not anger.

Recognition.

Recognition of something deeper, heavier ... already alive inside her mother.

Processing

Carla backed away silently.

She leaned against the hallway wall, heart pounding—not from fury, but from the weight of what she now understood.

Her mother wasn’t simply monitoring Eli.

She was watching him.

Wanting him.

And Carla didn’t feel threatened.

She felt ... curious.

Possibilities she hadn’t fully formed began threading through her mind.

If Mama already desires him...

Carla exhaled shakily, returning to her bedroom.

For the first time, the question wasn’t whether she could keep up with Eli.

It was whether she needed to be the only one trying.

Muffins and Fault Lines

The next morning, Yenni arrived early.

She knocked lightly before letting herself in, balancing a tray of muffins.

“Brought breakfast,” she smiled.

Carla raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Yenni floated toward the kitchen, moving around Eli like she belonged here.

Eli smiled politely, thanking her, while Yenni’s eyes lingered just a little too long.

As the three of us stood there, the energy in the room shifted. Subtle, but sharp.

Yenni offered me a small smile. “You look ... rested.”

Carla stepped slightly closer to Eli, brushing her arm against his as if staking a silent claim.

“We always sleep well here,” Carla said sweetly, her voice low and dangerous.

Yenni’s smile faltered, just for a moment.

The muffins sat untouched on the counter while unspoken tensions thickened in the air.