Inside the tallest skyscraper in Crestfall—a building so obscenely huge it probably has its own weather system—Adrian sat behind his grand desk. The curvature of his display wrapped the city in front of him like a controlled horizon. He exhaled. Slow. Measured. The kind of exhale a man makes when he's about to do something impressive.
He pressed Enter.
The screen came alive.
A fully realized parametric master plan unfolded—an intelligent urban grid calibrated through algorithmic zoning, layered with mixed-use typologies and transit-oriented development corridors. Vertical clusters rose as high-density towers, each integrated into a seamless BIM-coordinated ecosystem, their façades engineered as responsive skins adapting to light, heat, and occupancy in real time.
This wasn't just a city.
It was a system.
Energy networks pulsed beneath the surface—decentralized smart grids optimizing load distribution. Mobility traced itself through multi-modal transport nodes where autonomous flow replaced congestion. Public realms expanded into adaptive open spaces, designed with human-centric spatial planning yet governed by data precision.
Adrian's eyes didn't move.
He studied the skyline like a man reviewing a weapon.
AUDO—Autonomous Urban Design & Operations—was no longer a concept. It was a fully resolved urban framework, a digitally twinned city model, synchronized down to its structural logic and environmental performance. Every load-bearing system, every circulation spine, and every sustainable material interface had been stress-tested in simulation.
Execution was all that remained.
Only a select inner circle had visibility. No consultants. No external interfaces. No leaks.
He wasn't making that mistake again—not after what Sterling Industries had done. Five projects, mirrored into existence with surgical precision. Not approximated. Replicated.
This time, there would be no replication.
Because this time, there would be no exposure.
AUDO wasn't just another development. It was the foundation of his legacy—a self-evolving urban organism designed not just to stand but also to think, adapt, and outlive competition.
Adrian leaned back slightly, the faintest trace of something colder than satisfaction settling in his chest.
"Let them try," he murmured.
But this time, there would be nothing to steal.
He looked at the masterpiece he'd created. Proud of himself. Then his mind drifted to his father. If the old man hadn't run away, he'd be proud too. Proud of how far Adrian had developed the company. The Stark legacy of architecture.
He pursed his lips. Disappointment lingering. That's what happens when you think of your useless father.
His quiet moment of success was interrupted by Lazarus, his PA, who entered like a man carrying the weight of a small library.
"I see AUDO is done," Lazarus said, his hands full of dockets pregnant with files. The man was practically bent backward.
"What did you find out?" Adrian pressed Esc on his monitor. The design disappeared. Poof. Gone. Like it was never there.
Lazarus shot him an eye. Really?
Ever since Sterling Industries started building Adrian's thoughts without permission, the man had lost trust in everyone. Including his own shadow.
"It's just as you said." Lazarus dropped the dockets on the desk with a thud that shook the room. "The company is filled with bugs and cameras. Secret ones."
After discovering a bug in his pants last night—his pants—Adrian had asked Lazarus to investigate.
"And these are the reports you asked for."
Adrian ran a hand through his perfect curly locks. Even stressed, the man looked like a shampoo commercial.
"What should we do, boss?" Lazarus was almost losing breath. The dockets were heavy. So was the implication.
"Did you find out the brand they were made from?"
"Yes. From Radora City." Lazarus paused for effect. "Throne Enterprises."
Adrian frowned. Deeply. Throne Enterprises was a megastructural company—very advanced in technology, electronics, and architecture. It held the same power in Radora City that Stark Architecture held in Crestfall.
"You mean Sterling paid a fortune to steal my art." Adrian's voice was flat. "Because Throne Enterprises is very expensive."
Lazarus sat down. This explanation—and the research he'd done—required sitting. His knees thanked him.
"The bugs and cameras are meant to be invisible. Undetectable. I..." He trailed off.
"What?" Adrian's curiosity was crawling up his patience like ivy on a wall.
"I used their own tech to detect them."
Adrian blinked. Then something clicked. "You mean Throne Enterprises has already expanded into Crestfall?"
The question was almost irrelevant—he didn't even specialize in tech—but it gave him a great idea. A wonderful, terrible, beautiful idea.
"You want to partner with them to build AUDO?" Lazarus asked, reading his boss's mind like a cheap novel.
"They're good." Adrian stood up. "Arrange a meeting with the CEO."
"You didn't hear our solution to the Sterling problem," Lazarus said, watching Adrian head for the door.
Adrian's hand paused on the glass handle. "Oh, I'll deal with them myself." He glanced back, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "I'm late for the board meeting. Um... don't forget my meeting with Throne Enterprises."
***
The boardroom was already full when Adrian walked in. Board members seated in their usual spots, coffee cups steaming, tablets glowing, faces arranged in that particular expression of people who have been waiting exactly three minutes too long.
And someone new.
"Grandma." Adrian slid into the CEO chair like it was molded for him—which, to be fair, it probably was. Across the table sat Maria in the COO chair, and along the sides, the board members pretending not to enjoy the family drama.
"I needed to see my grandson in action," Christine replied, her smile plastic as a mannequin's. She came to see her grandson in action, yes, but she has her own mission.
"I'm sorry, Mom, but I just have to say it." Maria's voice had an edge sharp enough to cut glass. "You are not a board member."
"She can stay." Adrian didn't even look up. "I have something important to discuss anyway. Jamal?"
Jamal, his Chief Geospatial Strategist, cleared his throat like a man about to drop a bomb. A very well-researched, data-driven bomb.
"As we all know, Mr. Adrian has been working on an expansive project for the past month. He is finally done with it." Jamal took his time with the introduction, savoring it like fine wine.
"Did the municipality approve?" Adrian cut in, scratching the bridge of his nose. He wanted the good part. The part where the government said yes instead of we'll get back to you in six to eight months.
"Yes."
Adrian's eyebrow twitched upward. "Well, what do you suggest?"
Jamal tapped his screen. A map materialized on the projector. Everyone's eyes shifted to the display as Jamal stood up, pointer in hand, ready to present.
Tap. A red dot of light appeared on the screen.
"There," he said.
Adrian squinted. "That's not the safest section."
"It's not meant to be safe." Jamal's voice was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that makes nervous people more nervous.
Around the table, frowns bloomed like dark flowers. Not meant to be safe?
On the screen, the terrain shifted—data overlays unfolding in layers. Stress lines. Wind vectors. Load tolerances. Access constraints.
The ledge revealed itself.
A natural projection from the escarpment, suspended between dominance and collapse. The kind of place where architects either build monuments or coffins.
Perfect.
Now Adrian was impressed.
"It holds," Jamal continued. "Bedrock density is highest here. We anchor inward, build outward. The city won't sit on the cliff—"
"It will extend from it." Adrian finished the sentence. He designed it, man. Jamal didn't need to tell him twice.
Jamal nodded once. Professional respect. Nothing more.
"Two access points only. One above. One below. Everything else is vertical death."
Silence settled over the room like a thick wool blanket.
Adrian leaned back. A slow, deliberate smile spread across his face—the kind that made lesser men check their wallets.
"And visibility?"
Jamal zoomed out.
From the plateau, AUDO cut across the horizon like a blade. From below, it owned the sky. From every angle—unavoidable.
Adrian's voice dropped, almost to a whisper. "Good." Then colder: "No one builds above me again."
Throughout the presentation, Christine watched like a hawk evaluating its fledgling. Maria watched like a woman calculating her escape route.
Then Christine clapped. Everyone followed. Maria hesitated for exactly half a second—just long enough for Christine to notice—and then joined in.
"I'm very proud of you, son," Christine said, her voice warm but her eyes still calculating.
Adrian nodded in acknowledgment.
"What are you doing this time to protect the renderings for AUDO?" Maria asked. The question hung in the air like smoke.
Adrian stared at the board members. One of them—maybe more—was the mole feeding Sterling Industries his designs. He could feel them sitting there, breathing, pretending.
"I couldn't find their source of thievery. Or how they steal." His voice was flat, lying smoothly. "But I've come up with an alternative. And I don't trust any one of you." He let that sink in. "So I'll keep it to myself."
In this office, Adrian didn't care about family. Business was business. Emotions were for people who liked losing. His father had taught him that.
One of the few useful things the man ever said.
The meeting ended. Board members filed out, clutching tablets and wounded egos. Soon only family remained.
Christine looked at Adrian, her eyes glistening. She could see her son in him—David, before he became a ghost.
"Your father would have been so proud to see your intelligence." She blinked away the tears.
His jaw tightened. "Well, he's not here to see it, is he?" The words came out sharper than intended. He didn't soften them. "I'm sure Mom is proud of me. And that's enough."
Christine's gaze slid to Maria, who was packing up her iPad like she couldn't leave fast enough.
"I'm sure she is," Christine said. Short. Dismissive.
The tension in the room could have powered a small city.
***
Downtown in Tomas's residence, the heat and tension were so thick you could tailor an outfit from it. Tomas's temper was through the roof—past the ceiling, past the clouds, currently orbiting somewhere near Mars.
If Loise willingly divorced him, he'd be homeless. End of story. Sure, he'd saved money with his mistress Frieda, but it wasn't enough to buy a house. Not even enough for rent that would last him more than a few months. So there was no way in hell he was letting Loise divorce him. Ever.
"I suffered enough in your hands, Tomas, and I'm done." Loise's voice was steady. Final. "I have nothing more to give. But I want to spend the days I have left with my daughter."
She'd had enough. Not once in her life had she enjoyed anything. And when Star went missing for two weeks? She'd given up. Almost gone mad. But now Star was back, and Loise just wanted peace. Just with her daughter. That's all.
"Loise." Tomas's voice was surprisingly calm. The calm before the storm. The calm of a man who knows he's about to lose everything. "You know I love you. And I only do what I do because you push me to it. I wouldn't purposely hurt you, and you know that."
"You didn't purposely cheat on her for over a decade with her friend?" Star asked, arms crossed.
Tomas shot her a glare hot enough to melt steel. Then he turned back to Loise, touching her hands softly like she was something precious and not a woman he'd been betraying for years.
Frieda's rage and jealousy spiked exponentially at the sight of Tomas touching Loise gently. But she couldn't do anything. If Loise divorced Tomas, he'd be homeless—and that included her. She couldn't go back to her old rental anymore.
"Please." Tomas's voice dropped into that fake emotional register he used when he wanted something. "Do you remember when we got married? I vowed to stay by your side forever. We didn't—"
Before he could finish his Oscar-worthy performance, Star appeared from nowhere and yanked her mother's hand out of his grip.
"I'm going to get another set of divorce papers, and you will sign them." Star's eyes were ice. "All these useless speeches are too late, too useless. And you should be ashamed of yourself."
She wasn't having it. Not for a second. And knowing her mother, Loise might actually change her mind hearing that fake emotional mantra. Star wasn't about to let that happen.
But Tomas had already exploded.
Smack.
He slapped Star across the face. Her head turned from the impact—she was caught off guard. But she didn't cry. Didn't flinch. She just... smirked.
"You're the reason she does this, you bastard!" Tomas yelled.
"Bastard... mmm." Star touched her cheek, still smirking. "And you call yourself my father?"
"I don't say that." Tomas's voice went flat. Deadpan. "Because you're not my daughter."
Star had heard this before. Many times. She usually just laughed it off.
"I'm serious." Tomas pressed on, convincing now. "You may be my daughter in mouths, but not biologically."
Loise's face went pale. "Tomas—"
"Mom?" Star looked between her mother and father. Then at Frieda, who was wearing a smile so creepy she resembled the Joker's long-lost sister.
"Wait... she didn't tell you?" Tomas says in confusion
"Tomas, please..." Loise begged. Her eyes were glistening. The tears hadn't fallen yet, but they were packed and ready to travel.
"Mom... no, no, no." Star held up a hand. "Let him speak."
Curiosity was now piloting the ship.
"Ever wonder why your mother was disowned by her family?" Tomas began. Loise's eyes glistened harder. There was nothing she could do now to stop him. The train had left the station and was heading straight for a cliff.
"Your shameless mother got knocked up by some douche she met for two weeks while I was courting her." Tomas spat the words like poison. "So her family forced me to marry her. In exchange, they provided us with a home and a monthly allowance. That only lasted five years. After that, I've been catering to you and your useless mother for over two decades." His chest was heaving. "She couldn't conceive even after—" He stopped himself. Glanced at Loise. Then at Star. "Even after everything. And this is how she repays me!"
Star laughed.
Not a small laugh. Not a nervous giggle. A full, loud, belly-deep laugh that confused everyone in the room.
"So..." Star steadied herself, wiping a tear from her eye—a real one, from laughing. "You mean my real father is not a coward after all?"
She found it genuinely funny. Tomas thought telling her she was illegitimate would break her? Please. If anything, she felt relieved. She wasn't the daughter of a cheating, abusive deadbeat. That was great news.
"You're not mad?" Loise asked, curious. Maybe even confused.
"No, Mom." Star pulled her phone from her jeans pocket. "Let me dial Laila to get those divorce papers."
But before Laila could pick up, Tomas snatched the phone and threw it across the living room. It hit the sofa and bounced onto the floor.
"Only an illegitimate child would not care that she's illegitimate," Frieda said, disappointment dripping from every word. In everything she'd done to break Star, Star never broke. If anything, her confidence kept charging up like a battery with no off switch.
"I'm not illegitimate," Star declared, walking over to pick up her phone. The screen protector was cracked.
She turned to Tomas. "You need to go to work before you lose your job and become poor."
"I don't care." Tomas released a long breath—one he didn't even realize he'd been carrying. "I've transferred N$200k into Frieda's account. I think it's enough for a room in Single-Quarters. And I will get to live with my true family."
"Oh, great." Star's sarcasm could have peeled paint. "That's very clever of you. But I care about you, Dad." She turned to Frieda, smiling sweetly. "Frieda, do you mind showing your man the account balance?"
Frieda swallowed so hard Star heard the saliva go down her throat.
She didn't have the money. She'd just paid off a loan—a very old loan—and the loan sharks had taken everything. It had been due for far too long. She hadn't expected Tomas to need the money so soon.
"What, you think I'm lying?" Tomas puffed out his chest. "I've been saving up. Frieda, show this bastard."
Frieda went pale. White as the paper those divorce papers were printed on.
"Babe..." she stammered, her phone shaking in her hands.
Tomas frowned. Then he snatched the phone from her. It was his account—just connected to Frieda's number—so he knew the PIN. He logged in.
His face went white. Then gray. Then dark.
No money. Zero. Zilch. Nada.
"Where is the money?" Tomas roared.
Frieda flinched. "I used it to pay off a loan I took years back. I—"
Smack.
Tomas slapped her. Frieda stood there in shock, her hand touching her cheek. This was the first time Tomas had ever raised a hand at her. The first time.
Then her shock turned into something else.
Before Tomas could yell again, Frieda punched him. Hard. Right in the face.
Crack.
His nose broke. Blood sprayed. Tomas hit the floor hard, confusion and pain painting his face in equal measure. Star and Loise's eyes widened so much they almost popped out of their sockets.
"I used up the money," Frieda sneered, shaking out her hand. "But that doesn't give you the right to humiliate me. I'm not Loise."
She grabbed her jacket and walked out. The door slammed behind her.
The room was silent except for Tomas's groaning and the soft drip of blood onto the floor.
Star looked down at him. Then at her mother. Then back at Tomas.
"Making Frieda your lover," Star said, smiling, "is the only great decision you've made your entire life."
She laughed at him—genuinely, warmly, like he was the funniest joke she'd ever heard—and Tomas lay there on the floor, broken nose and all, realizing he had absolutely nothing left.