A fresh coat of paint dried on the nameplate outside my office:

"Dominic E. Wolfe."

Leaning against the automatic sliding door, I stared at it for a moment. It was still surreal—like I didn’t quite belong here yet. My mind wasn’t on work, though.

I hope it's going well.

I exhaled and stepped onto the headquarters' balcony. The cool night air greeted me, but it wasn’t the breeze that held my attention.

It was the sky.

Down here, in our submerged, spiraling metropolis, the sky felt like a distant dream—so far away it might as well have been a painting. But from this balcony, it felt closer. The tiny stars twinkled above, distant yet mesmerizing.

I never got tired of looking at them.

They were a reminder to always aim high, to push forward.

Sara will do the same. She has to.

The sound of boots against steel echoed behind me.

"You’re still here?"

I turned to see Chief Grahm—his uniform crisp, the weight of responsibility resting on his broad shoulders. His usual grizzled expression was tinged with something unusual—confusion. Maybe even irritation.

"Isn’t your wife in labor?" he asked.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Yeah… but we’ve got a ton of case files piling up. And thanks to the royal court’s budget cuts, it’s just me and Marcus handling it all."

The Chief let out a heavy sigh, scratching at his rough beard.

"Tell you what," he grumbled. "I’ll approve some overtime for Marcus, and I’ll pick up the slack. You? Get your ass to that hospital."

His serious expression cracked into a grin. "You only get to be a first-time dad once, after all."

I barely let him finish before grabbing my jacket.

"Thanks, Chief! I owe you one!" I called over my shoulder, already bolting for the exit.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. Just don’t forget to get Marcus a gift while you’re at it!"

I laughed as I ran through the city streets, heading straight for the maternity ward.

I had work to do.

But tonight, nothing mattered more than my family.

I thought about calling Sara’s sister for an update.

Not that I was looking forward to another "If you were still a noble, you could've afforded a pod birth like everyone else" comment. That woman will be the death of me.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Still, I flung the call to my right iris, the interface appearing in my peripheral vision while I stayed focused on the holorail ahead. Its flickering blue light sent a sharp ache through my skull, but it was still faster than typing.

The call connected.

"Hello, dear brother," came her voice, overly sweet. "Your wife just got the baby back from the nurse bot. He cried—oh, I wish we could—"

"How’s Sara?" I interrupted.

"Oh, she’s tired but happy. She’s enjoying your cute little boy…" A pause. "Are you going to be here soon?"

"Yeah, yeah."

I weaved around some of the slower riders on the rail, narrowly avoiding an old man with cybernetic legs.

"Well, I’ll tell Sara you called. See you soon, Dom."

The call cut off.

I sighed, rolling my shoulders to shake off the irritation. She was annoying, but Sara loved her. And after everything that happened… I owed her my patience.

Still, I had bigger concerns.

I needed to get to the hospital.

The city moved inward, always shifting, always pressing. Like a machine consuming itself in a constant cycle of progress. It felt like it was trying to swallow me whole.

As I glanced at the riders beside me, I noticed several nonkin mixed in—a tall woman with glowing feline ears, a man with scaled skin shimmering under neon light.

I never understood that. Why would anyone want to be anything but human? There weren’t that many of us left, so why dilute the bloodline even more?

I shrugged. To each their own.

Brushing past a group of chattering nonkin teens, I stepped off the rail into the historic district.

Here, the city felt… different.

The ALL’s grip was weaker. The streets were cracked, buildings abandoned, draped in vines like nature was slowly reclaiming what man had taken.

The sight made my skin crawl.

I forced myself to look away and pressed forward.

Focus, Dom. Get to Sara and Elias before you never hear the end of it.

I arrived at the maternity ward’s desk, barely stopping as I leaned over to address the receptionist.

A curious-looking bot blinked up at me, its mechanical lenses adjusting as it processed my presence.

"What room is my wife, Sara Wolfe, in?" I asked, my voice more breathless than I expected.

The bot didn’t blink—obviously. It simply processed the request and coldly stated:

"Room 201."

I was already moving before the words had fully registered.

The hallway blurred past me, my boots echoing against the sleek white tiles. When I reached the door, I could see the pale light from underneath it, seeping into the dim corridor like a quiet invitation.

I placed my hand on the handle.

And yet, I hesitated.

There was no going back.

For just a moment, I thought of my own father. The day I was born, had he stood like this? Did he hesitate? Did he feel this same weight—the fear, the excitement, the uncertainty?

I clenched my jaw and shook off the thought.

"The past is the past."

Taking a steady breath, I pushed open the door.

Inside, the room was small but quiet, bathed in soft, sterile light. And there, on the hospital bed, was Sara.

The woman I gave up everything for.

Her golden hair was messy but radiant, her expression exhausted yet peaceful. And in her arms, wrapped in a soft blue bundle, was him.

My son.

I stepped forward, my pulse hammering in my ears. My heart, which had been racing the entire way here, suddenly stopped.

He was so small. So delicate. And yet, as I looked at him, all the worries, the stubborn cases, the shattered pride—they were gone.

Nothing else mattered.

"Elias."

He blinked up at me, eyes wide and searching. As if he saw me.

Then, his tiny fingers reached toward my pocket.

I frowned, but instinctively pulled out the family relic—the old stopwatch.

The moment I did, his hand twitched toward it, fascinated, drawn to it in a way I couldn’t explain.

I felt something shift.

It was his.

My boy.

And whatever he asked for in this life, I would make sure he had it.