The aftermath of the Alpha fight was a turning point. The physical barrier between our worlds had been broken, and Emma, now armed with a tangible understanding of my "R&D," attacked her side of the business with a renewed, terrifying ferocity. We were a two-person arms race, and business was booming.
But as Aura Innovations grew, so did the pressure on Emma. I started noticing little things. She'd rub her temples when she thought I wasn't looking. Sometimes, after a particularly long call, she'd have to sit down, her face pale, a faint line of pain etched between her brows.
One evening, I found her in her corner of the forge, sitting perfectly still in her chair, her eyes squeezed shut, one hand pressed hard against her forehead. The usual storm of holographic documents was gone. The silence was heavy. Even in her distress, backlit by a single work lamp, she was stunning. And seeing that brilliant, fiery woman reduced to this by a power she couldn't control was an infuriating sight.
"Rough day with the Tokyo investors?" I asked, my voice softer than usual.
She didn't open her eyes. "It's the noise," she whispered, her voice tight with pain. "It's getting louder. Every day. The more people I talk to, the more minds that are focused on me, on Aura... it's like a thousand radios all playing a different station, and I can't find the 'off' switch."
I didn't say anything. I just nodded, a silent promise passing between us, and went to my workbench. I wasn't just building a solution to a problem; I was forging a piece of peace, a shield for the woman I was coming to admire more every day.
Thorne's knowledge of neural interfaces, my own growing understanding of energy systems, and Raphael's analytical power all came together. I spent two days designing, 3D printing, and assembling, my focus absolute. I made it simple, elegant, and understated—something that wouldn't look out of place on her, more like a piece of fine jewelry than a piece of tech. The final product was a thin, metallic circlet, barely thicker than a piece of wire, with a single, small, dark blue stone at its center where the delicate circuitry converged.
I found her in the same position two nights later, the psychic headache clearly reaching a crescendo. I walked over quietly and placed the circlet on the desk in front of her.
She opened her eyes, wincing at the light. "What's this? A new piece of hardware?"
"Something like that," I said, my voice low. "It's a psionic dampener. A filter. It won't block your powers, but it should... turn down the volume. Mute the background noise."
She looked at the simple, elegant piece of technology, then back at me, her expression a mixture of suspicion and desperate hope. "You built this?"
"I couldn't stand seeing you in pain, Emma," I said simply, the truth of it hanging in the air between us. Seeing her flinch from the compliment, I quickly gave her a pragmatic excuse she could accept. "Besides," I added, a small, teasing smile touching my lips, "an empire needs its queen operating at peak efficiency. Consider it... a strategic investment in my most valuable asset."
She hesitated, her gaze flickering between the circlet and my eyes. She picked it up. It was light, cool to the touch. She slowly, cautiously, placed it on her head, nestling it in her blonde hair where it was almost invisible.
The effect was instantaneous.
The tension in her shoulders vanished. The tight line of pain between her brows smoothed out. A deep, shuddering breath escaped her lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief. The constant, agonizing roar of a thousand minds, which had been the soundtrack to her entire life, suddenly faded to a manageable, distant murmur.
She opened her eyes and looked at me. The usual icy, guarded mask was gone. In its place was a look of such profound gratitude that it momentarily stunned me.
"It's... quiet," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
"Better?" I asked.
She didn't answer with words. She just gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
I had told her it was a business asset, a strategic investment. But in the sudden, peaceful quiet of the workshop, we both knew the truth. It was a gift. It was the only way I knew how to say what I couldn't yet put into words: I'm here. I'll protect you.
The foundation of our empire had just been reinforced, not with money or power, but with a silent promise.