2025-12-18 18:59:02“Gabrielle, breathe,” Margaret interrupted: “You don't have to plan the entire wedding tonight.”
“But I want to! This is important!” She looked between them: “Don't you want it to be perfect?”“It will be perfect because we'll be there,” Achilles said: “The details matter less than the people.”“But details make things special.” Gabrielle pulled up photos: “Look. I found the perfect flower girl dress. It's purple with white ribbons. Very elegant.”Margaret leaned over to look: “That is beautiful. You'd look amazing in that.”“I know. Can we order it?”*Not yet. We haven't even set a date officially.”“June 15th. I did the analysis. It's a Saturday. The weather is usually good. Not too close to any holidays. Perfect.” Gabrielle had clearly thought this through.Achilles and Margaret exchanged glances. Their daughter was running this operation with military precision.“June 15th works,” Achilles said: “Si
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343: “Pumpkin Is Thorough”
They went to bed together. Achilles rested from exhaustion at 2 AM. The next morning, Achilles woke to find Gabrielle standing beside the bed, holding her wedding binder. “You're home!” She climbed onto the bed: “Mommy Margaret said you're staying today. Is that true?” “It's true, Pumpkin. Today is all about you and wedding planning.” “Really? Really really?” “Really really. Show me everything you've been working on.” Gabrielle's face lit up. She opened her binder with the solemnity of a general revealing battle plans: “Okay. So. The ceremony is at 2 PM. That's important because the light will be perfect for photos. See?” She showed him a chart with sun angles. “Very thorough.” “I researched. Now. The processional order. First comes Aunt Rachael and Aunt Dora as bridesmaids. Then I was the flower girl. Then Mommy Margaret. Everyone walks to 'Canon in D' because it's traditional a
342: “Be Here, Pumpkin Misses You”
[Five Months Later – May]The counter-terrorism operation was consuming Achilles' life. Sixteen-hour days. Endless surveillance. The Archelords' sympathizers were more organized than initial intelligence suggested.They'd identified the leader; a man calling himself "The Scorpion." Former Juma operative who'd escaped the original crackdown. He was training the recruits. Building a new network. Planning something big.But they couldn't find him. Every lead went cold. Every surveillance dead-ended.Achilles sat in his office at midnight, reviewing footage for the hundredth time. His eyes burned, his head pounded. The wedding was six weeks away and he hadn't helped with a single thing.His phone buzzed, it was Margaret:[Are you coming home tonight?]He checked his watch. 12:17 AM. He'd promised to be home by ten.He responded: [Soon. Sorry. Got caught up in something.][You're always caught up in somethin
341: JUNE 15TH
“Gabrielle, breathe,” Margaret interrupted: “You don't have to plan the entire wedding tonight.”“But I want to! This is important!” She looked between them: “Don't you want it to be perfect?”“It will be perfect because we'll be there,” Achilles said: “The details matter less than the people.”“But details make things special.” Gabrielle pulled up photos: “Look. I found the perfect flower girl dress. It's purple with white ribbons. Very elegant.”Margaret leaned over to look: “That is beautiful. You'd look amazing in that.”“I know. Can we order it?”*Not yet. We haven't even set a date officially.”“June 15th. I did the analysis. It's a Saturday. The weather is usually good. Not too close to any holidays. Perfect.” Gabrielle had clearly thought this through.Achilles and Margaret exchanged glances. Their daughter was running this operation with military precision.“June 15th works,” Achilles said: “Si
340: DUTY
[Two Days After the Engagement – London]Achilles stood in the briefing room at Thames House, surrounded by intelligence analysts and counter-terrorism officers. The "emergency" that had interrupted his proposal turned out to be significant after all, not the initial threat they'd scrambled for, but something uncovered during the investigation."We intercepted communications between former Juma Archelords sympathizers,” Colonel Manning explained, pulling up encrypted messages on the screen: “They're planning something. We don't know what yet, but the chatter suggests a coordinated action within the next month."“How credible is this?” Achilles asked.“Credible enough. The sources have been reliable in the past. We're tracking six individuals of concern. Three in London. Two in Manchester. One in Liverpool.” Manning highlighted locations on a map: “We need surveillance on all of them. Round-the-clock. That's where you come in.”“You want m
339: A Wedding To Plan
[The Next Morning – Achilles' Apartment]Achilles returned at 6 AM. The terror threat had been contained; a false alarm, thank God. No attack. Just paranoid intelligence that needed investigation.He was exhausted, hadn't slept. But he couldn't wait to see Margaret properly. To celebrate their engagement without helicopters interrupting.He opened the apartment door quietly. Gabrielle would still be asleep. Margaret had stayed over to watch her; they did that now, trading off when one of them was working late.But Gabrielle wasn't asleep. She sat at the kitchen table in her pajamas, wide awake, with what appeared to be a new binder.“Daddy!” She jumped up: “You're back! Tell me everything! How did you propose? What did you say? Did you use my note card? Did she cry?”“Pumpkin, it's six in the morning. Why are you awake?”“I couldn't sleep! This is too exciting!” She pulled him to the table: “Sit. Tell me.”Marga
338: Worst Timing In History
[Four Months Later – Liverpool@Rooftop]Achilles had been planning this for weeks. The ring sat in his pocket, distracting him from his thoughts. Tonight was the night.He'd chosen the hospital rooftop. The place where Margaret had saved his life. Where everything had begun. It felt right to propose there.Gabrielle knew, of course. She'd been excited about it, checking his plans, offering suggestions, making sure he had “the right romantic words.”“Remember, Daddy,” she'd said that morning: “You have to tell her she's beautiful. And that you love her. And that you want her forever. Those are the rules.”“Who made these rules?”“Me. I'm the expert. I've been planning this since Phase One.” She'd handed him a note card with talking points: “Don't mess it up.”Now he stood on the rooftop, waiting. He'd texted Margaret to meet him here at seven. She'd responded with a simple: [Okay. See you then.]The sun was setting over Liverpool, painting the sky orange and pink. Perfect timing. Roman
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