The First Visual: System Sync Confirmed
[Jay's POV]
The air in the private Watson Medical Suite was clinical, cool, and smelled faintly of lemon-scented sanitizer. I was lying on the examination table, my heart doing a 1,000% erratic rhythm against my ribs. Beside me, Keifer was practically vibrating with a mix of CEO-level focus and "New Dad" terror.
He was holding my hand so tightly I thought he might accidentally crush my "Empress" fingers.
"Breathe, Weify," he murmured, though his own breathing was shallow. "The data is about to go live."
Cin, wearing his white doctor's coat and a look of professional pride, moved the ultrasound wand over my stomach. "Alright, Powerhouse. Let's see what kind of software you two have been developing."
The Screen Comes to Life
The monitor flickered to life in high-definition. At first, it was just grainy shadows—gray and black static that looked like an unmapped sector of space. But then, Cin adjusted the frequency, and there it was.
A tiny, flickering pulse.
"There," Cin pointed with a gloved finger. "That's the heartbeat. 1,000% strong. 145 beats per minute. Perfect synchronization."
I felt a sob catch in my throat. It didn't look like a baby yet—just a tiny, glowing bean of light—but it was the most beautiful "File" I had ever seen.
[Keifer's POV: The Total System Crash]
I stared at the screen. My brain, usually capable of processing a billion data points a second, simply stopped.
That tiny flicker... that was us. That was the "Glow" captured in a living, breathing form. The amnesia, the accident, the 7-day nightmare—it all felt like a lifetime ago compared to that rhythmic, flickering light.
"It's... it's real," I whispered, my voice cracking in a way it never had in a boardroom. "That's the Heir."
"That's a Watson, alright," Cin chuckled, freezing the image on the screen. "Look at the positioning. Already taking up the center of the frame. Definitely a Powerhouse in the making."
The Reveal: [Author's POV]
Suddenly, the door to the viewing room (which had a glass partition) was crowded with faces. Mamma Serina, Pappa Keizer, Bridget, Keigan, and Keiran were all pressed against the glass, their eyes wide.
"I see it!" Keiran shouted, muffled by the glass. "It looks like a tiny pixel!"
"It's not a pixel, you idiot, it's a legend!" Bridget shot back, her eyes shimmering with uncharacteristic tears.
Keifer didn't look at them. He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine, his eyes never leaving the monitor. A single, silent tear escaped his blue eyes and landed on my cheek.
"1,000%," he whispered, his thumb stroking my hand. "I'm never letting anything happen to this signal. You and the baby... you're my only 'Master Files' now."
The "Printout" Protocol
Cin printed out the first grainy black-and-white photos. "Here you go. The first official portrait of the next generation."
Keifer took the photos as if they were made of ancient, fragile parchment. He looked at the tiny "bean" and then at me, the smug CEO mask completely gone, replaced by a man who had found his absolute purpose.
"Mamma and Bridget are going to fight over who gets to frame this first," I joked, wiping my eyes.
"They can try," Keifer said, tucking the photo into his breast pocket, right over his heart. "But this one stays with the Primary User."