The penthouse apartment overlooked Elliott Bay with floor-to-ceiling windows that made Seattle's skyline look like a glittering circuit board. Brandon stood in the spacious living room, still adjusting to the reality that this luxurious space was actually his. The monthly rent exceeded what he'd earned annually during his darkest years at Carter Tech, but his new salary made such extravagances not just possible, but reasonable.
His phone rang as he was arranging furniture, Margaret's familiar voice bringing warmth to the sterile perfection of his new home.
"Brandon? I hope I'm not calling at a bad time."
"Never. What's on your mind?"
"I'd like to take you up on that offer for coffee. Or dinner, if you're still interested in spending time with an old woman."
Brandon smiled, genuinely pleased. "I'd be delighted. Are you free this evening?"
"I am. Victoria's out with... well, she's out. And Richard's working late as usual."
"Perfect. I'll pick you up at seven."
---
Margaret's eyes widened appreciatively as she settled into the BMW's leather passenger seat. "My goodness, Brandon. This is quite a beautiful car."
"Thank you. It feels strange sometimes, being able to afford things like this."
"You've earned every bit of success you've achieved," Margaret said firmly as they pulled away from the Carter house. "If my daughter and husband had supported you instead of exploiting you, you would have accomplished wonders years ago."
Brandon navigated through Seattle's evening traffic, heading toward the waterfront. "Better late than never, I suppose."
The restaurant he'd chosen—Canlis—was Seattle's most prestigious dining establishment, the kind of place where senators and CEOs conducted their most important conversations over wine that cost more per bottle than most people's weekly salary.
"Brandon, you didn't need to bring me somewhere this expensive," Margaret protested as they were seated at a table overlooking the Sound.
"I wanted to. Besides, I can actually afford it now." He smiled at the waiter who approached with menus. "It's nice to be able to treat someone who was always kind to me."
As they settled into conversation over the first course, Margaret's expression grew more serious. "I'm so proud of what you've accomplished. The news coverage has been extraordinary—you've become quite famous in the technology world."
"How are you handling everything at home? I imagine the atmosphere isn't particularly pleasant."
Margaret's composure flickered slightly. "Richard is... well, he's always been prone to anger, but lately it's gotten worse. He drinks more than he should, and he's obsessed with blaming you for the company's problems."
"And Victoria?"
"She rarely comes home anymore. When she does, she doesn't stay long. She's always with another man—usually that Reeves fellow, though I suspect there are others." Margaret's voice carried the sadness of a mother watching her child make destructive choices.
They were discussing Brandon's latest projects when Margaret began coughing—a harsh, persistent sound that made Brandon's blood run cold. He'd heard that cough before, in his original timeline, just before her diagnosis.
"Margaret, are you alright?"
She waved dismissively, though the coughing fit lasted nearly a minute. "I'm fine, dear. Just something caught in my throat."
"That didn't sound like something caught in your throat. When was your last medical checkup?"
Margaret's evasive expression confirmed Brandon's fears. "I don't need to bother doctors with minor inconveniences."
"Margaret, please. Promise me you'll see a doctor this week."
"Brandon, really—"
"Promise me. I'll come with you if you'd like, but you need to get that cough examined." Brandon's voice carried an urgency that made Margaret look at him with surprise.
Finally, she nodded. "If it will make you feel better, I'll make an appointment."
"Thank you. It will make me feel much better."
---
The atmosphere at Nexus had shifted dramatically since Brandon's latest triumph. Walking through the office, he could feel the change in how people looked at him—a mixture of respect, ambition, and in some cases, barely concealed resentment.
"Good morning, Mr. Carter," called out Jessica Walsh from the cybersecurity team, her tone carrying the deference usually reserved for senior executives.
"Morning, Jessica. How's the Meridian implementation progressing?"
"Ahead of schedule and under budget, thanks to your platform architecture."
But not everyone was pleased with Brandon's meteoric rise. He caught the subtle conversations that stopped when he passed, the jealous glances from developers who'd been with the company for years without achieving a fraction of his recognition.
During the weekly development meeting, the tension was palpable.
"The integrated AI platform is performing beyond all projections," reported Aaron Mitchell, the lead systems analyst. "Client satisfaction is at unprecedented levels."
Thomas Walsh nodded grudgingly. "The financial results are... impressive."
Michael Stevens remained skeptical despite the overwhelming evidence. "We should be cautious about over-dependence on any single technological approach."
Brandon said nothing, understanding that some people would never admit when their opposition had been wrong.
After the meeting, Elena asked him to stay behind. Once they were alone, her professional composure gave way to obvious frustration.
"The executives don't want to admit they were wrong about the acquisitions," she said, settling behind her desk. "They keep looking for reasons to oppose future initiatives, but they bring nothing constructive to the table."
"Change is always difficult for established power structures."
Elena leaned back in her chair, staring out at the city skyline. "Sometimes I wish I ran my own company. My way. Without having to navigate politics and egos and people who resist innovation simply because it threatens their comfort zones."
Brandon felt a familiar thrill of opportunity. "You should."
Elena looked at him with surprise. "What?"
"Start your own company. We should." Brandon leaned forward, his voice carrying the confidence of someone who'd seen the future. "I'm planning to start my own business soon, and I'd like you as a partner."
"Brandon—"
"But I'd need an initial investment. Fifty million dollars."
Elena's eyes widened. "Fifty million? That's... that's an enormous amount of money."
"For what I'm planning, it's actually quite modest." Brandon's smile carried secrets Elena couldn't imagine. "What we've accomplished at Nexus is revolutionary, but it's nothing compared to what we could build with complete freedom and adequate capital."
Elena was quiet for a long moment, processing the implications of what he was proposing. "What kind of business are you talking about?"
"Something that will make our current success look like a prototype. I'm talking about building the future of technology itself."
"I'll need to think about this."
"Of course. Take all the time you need. But Elena, I promise you this—if you invest in what I'm planning, it will be the most profitable decision you'll ever make."
---
That evening, Elena sat in her home office, staring at financial statements while wrestling with the biggest decision of her professional life. Fifty million dollars was an enormous sum, even for someone with her resources and access to capital.
But she'd seen what Brandon could accomplish when given the freedom to innovate. Every prediction he'd made had proven accurate. Every strategy he'd recommended had exceeded expectations. His track record was flawless.
Yet this was different. This wasn't improving an existing company—it was betting everything on Brandon's vision of creating something entirely new.
Elena poured herself a glass of wine and continued her analysis, knowing that her answer would determine not just her financial future, but the trajectory of her entire life.
The question wasn't whether Brandon was capable of revolutionary success. The question was whether she was brave enough to bet fifty million dollars on it.