I'm The King of Business & Technology in the Modern World-Chapter 218: The Last Stretch

"Nothing's going to explode. Except maybe your back from trying to hold up a watermelon-sized human."

"Charming."

"I try."

She put the phone down, letting herself settle.

A moment passed.

Then she said, "I think I'm scared."

Matthew's smile faded, replaced by something gentler. "Of what?"

She stared at the ceiling for a while. "Of the moment. Of the delivery. Of handing off everything I've built and not knowing how to be… anything else but busy."

Matthew didn't speak right away. He reached for her hand.

"You've never just been busy, Angel. You've always been present. With me. With the team. With this baby. That's not going to change."

She squeezed his hand.

It helped.

Not everything was certain.

But he was.

—

May 25, 2025 — 1:00 PMSentinel HQ — Transition Meeting

The conference room felt different these days.

No longer the command center of every major project in the country—it had become a staging ground for what Angel jokingly called Operation Hand-Off.

She stood at the front, noticeably slower in her steps, but no less composed. Her maternity dress was simple, navy blue, with a silver pin over her chest bearing the Sentinel crest.

"All site leads have been assigned to backup project managers," she said, clicking through the slides. "My secure handover briefings will continue through June 10. From June 15 onward, I'll be on full leave. Matthew will remain as acting CEO until further notice."

There were no protests.

Just quiet nods of understanding.

They all knew this was coming. And in truth, she'd made sure the transition would be seamless—months of planning, restructuring, assigning new decision pipelines, and training team leads.

Angel turned to the whiteboard and scribbled something with a marker:

Systems outlive operators. But values must be reinstalled in every build.

She circled it.

"That's your north star," she said. "Not the tech. Not the concrete. Not the schedules. The values. Integrity. Precision. People-first."

Everyone in the room nodded.

The silence afterward wasn't awkward.

It was reverent.

—

May 27, 2025 — 6:45 PMSentinel HQ — Rooftop Garden

The sun was setting in soft streaks of pink and violet, painting the sky above BGC in watercolor hues.

Angel stood at the edge of the rooftop garden, both hands resting beneath her belly, watching the skyline.

The garden had been her retreat for years—a place of clarity, of quiet, of occasional sandwiches and crisis phone calls.

Now it was something else.

A marker.

The beginning of her pause.

Matthew joined her a moment later, holding out a can of cold calamansi juice.

"I wanted to give you something fancier," he said, "but apparently wine's still off the table."

"Cruel world," Angel muttered, taking the can.

They stood side by side, sipping, quiet.

Then Matthew reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

Updat𝓮d from frёewebnoѵēl.com.

Angel blinked.

"Please tell me you didn't buy another ring."

He opened it.

Inside wasn't jewelry.

It was a tiny, custom-made gold pin.

The design? A miniature railway line wrapping around a feather.

He pinned it gently to her dress.

"What's this?" she asked softly.

"Our daughter's first emblem," he said. "Railways for legacy. Feather for new beginnings."

Angel looked down at it, hand hovering over the tiny pin.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"She'll inherit the real things someday," Matthew added. "But for now, just this."

Angel smiled. "You're going to be a really good dad."

Matthew didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

The tears in his eyes said enough.

—

May 30, 2025 — 9:15 AMRockwell, Nursery Room

They were adding the final touches now.

Matthew hung up the last of the framed prints—simple watercolor sketches of cityscapes, bridges, and distant stars. Angel arranged the baby clothes in drawers, folding each piece with careful hands.

They stood together afterward, arms wrapped around each other, looking at the room they had built.

It wasn't perfect.

There were still stickers slightly crooked on the wall. The crib still squeaked a little on one side.

But it was real.

And ready.

"Do you think she'll like it?" Angel whispered.

"I think she'll love it," Matthew said. "Because it'll be hers. And because you made it."

Angel rested her head against his chest.

The baby kicked once, gently.

And for the first time, Angel didn't feel like she was letting go of something—

She felt like she was arriving.

—

June 1, 2025 — 7:00 AMRockwell, Their Apartment — Living Room

Angel sat at her desk, typing slowly.

Her official email to the company.

Subject line: Stepping Back to Step Forward

She reviewed the message carefully before sending it out:

Dear Sentinel Team,

As of today, I am officially beginning my maternity leave.

For the past several years, we have built something remarkable together—not just transit lines or data platforms, but trust, resilience, and hope. I am proud of every one of you.

In my absence, Matthew will be acting CEO. I will remain available in non-operational support if needed, but I trust the systems we've built. And I trust you.

This pause is not a goodbye. It's a chapter shift. One that reminds us that every station leads somewhere new.

Keep building. Stay kind. And I'll see you soon.

—Angel

She hit send.

Then leaned back in her chair.

The inbox began to fill with replies.

Smiling faces.

Thank-you notes.

One-liners like:

Go build something small and loud and beautiful, ma'am.

And she knew:

She wasn't stepping away from her life.

She was stepping into a larger one.