Chapter 11: The Proposition
The truce with Eleanor was a delicate new reality. They existed in a space of quiet understanding, a bubble where his intensity was not feared but accepted as a fundamental part of him. They studied together in the library, the silence between them comfortable. He walked her to her car after school, their conversations ranging from college applications to the existential dread in *Cat's Cradle*. It was normal, achingly so, and for the first time since his return, Elias felt the sharp edges of his past life begin to soften.
But a king, even in repose, is always building.
The envelope of cash from his freelance work had grown thick. The *Mythic Quest* cards, his initial bet, were a silent, appreciating asset in his closet. He needed to pivot, to turn his reactive freelance work into a proactive enterprise. He needed a brand.
The idea came to him while helping Mr. Henderson set up a digital gradebook. The teacher fumbled with the software, his frustration a mirror of the entire faculty's relationship with the dawning digital age.
"They should teach us this," Henderson had grumbled. "Not just throw it at us."
Elias didn't respond, but the seed was planted.
He requested a meeting with the principal, Dr. Evans. Sitting in the leather chair opposite her large, tidy desk, he felt a familiar calm descend. This was a boardroom. She was a stakeholder.
"Dr. Evans," he began, his tone respectful but confident. "The district is spending thousands on new software and hardware, but the ROI is minimal because the end-users—the teachers—aren't properly trained."
Dr. Evans leaned back, her expression a blend of curiosity and skepticism. "Go on, Mr. Thorne."
"I'm proposing 'Digital Bridge,' a specialized after-school workshop series. I will design and teach a curriculum covering the new gradebook software, internet research tools, and basic troubleshooting. One evening a week for four weeks. We charge fifty dollars per teacher. The school provides the lab; I provide the expertise. We split the revenue sixty-forty, in the school's favor."
He slid a single-page, professionally formatted proposal across her desk. He had spent the previous night drafting it, the language crisp and businesslike.
Dr. Evans read it, her eyebrows rising. "This is... remarkably thorough, Eli. But sixty-forty? That's quite generous to the school."
"The school's endorsement is worth the percentage," he replied smoothly. "It provides legitimacy and access. This isn't just about revenue; it's about increasing the effectiveness of the district's technology investment. It's a force multiplier."
She looked at him, and he saw the moment her skepticism turned into genuine admiration. "You don't sound like a student, Eli. You sound like a CEO."
"It's just a proposal, Dr. Evans. I'm hoping you'll see its merit."
She steepled her fingers. "I'll need to run it by the school board. But consider this my tentative yes. Well done."
He left her office, the air tasting of victory. It was scalable. If it worked here, he could pitch it to other schools, to small businesses. *Digital Bridge.* It was a real entity now, with a name and a business plan.
He found Eleanor at her locker, the thrill of the win still humming in his veins. "I have something to celebrate," he said, a genuine, unforced smile on his face. "Dinner? My treat."
Her eyes widened. "Dinner? Like... a date?"
The word hung in the air, simple and terrifying. "Yes," he said, the king and the boy in rare, perfect agreement. "Like a date."
Her answering smile was like the sun emerging from behind a cloud. "Okay."
The date was set for Friday. The week passed in a blur of anticipation. He finalized the curriculum for Digital Bridge. He avoided Jason, who seemed content for now with his stolen valor. He met with Carl Croft, who gruffly offered him a more complex, higher-paying job troubleshooting a network for a friend's small manufacturing firm. The pieces were falling into place.
Friday arrived. He wore a simple button-down shirt, a concession to the occasion. He drove to her house, the nerves he thought he'd outgrown a lifetime ago fluttering in his stomach. This was a battlefield he had never mastered—the battlefield of the heart, with no strategy guide.
He knocked on the door. It was opened by a woman with Eleanor's eyes, but tired and etched with pain. Catherine Shaw.
"You must be Eli," she said, her voice warm but frail. "Eleanor's told me so much about you. Come in, she's just about ready."
He stepped inside the cozy, book-filled living room. It was a home, lived-in and loved. On the mantelpiece, he saw a framed photo of a younger, healthier Catherine with a man he presumed was Eleanor's father.
"Thank you," Catherine said softly, following his gaze. "For what you did. The law firm... that was you, wasn't it?"
Elias met her eyes. He could see the sharp intelligence there, the same as her daughter's. He gave a slight, single nod.
She smiled, a tired, grateful thing. "I thought so. Our family seems to be full of secrets lately." She didn't elaborate, but her gaze was knowing. "Be good to her, Eli. She's... she's everything."
Before he could respond, Eleanor came down the stairs. She wore a simple blue dress, and she took his breath away.
"You look beautiful," he said, the words leaving him without calculation or filter.
She blushed, a faint pink spreading across her cheeks. "Ready?"
As they walked to the car, the setting sun casting long shadows, Elias felt a profound sense of rightness. He had a company. He had a plan. He had a date with the girl who was his anchor to this new world.
He was building his kingdom, not of cold steel and glass, but of something far more durable. And for the first time, he dared to believe he might be worthy of it.