The Rescidency Risk のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

The thirty-second week began with a deceptive calm. In the clinical world, thirty-two weeks was a major milestone—the "Safe-ish Harbor." If the twins were born now, their survival rate was near-perfect, though their journey in the NICU would be long. For Liam, this milestone meant a slight relaxation of the "Fortress Protocol," allowing the physical construction of the nursery to begin in the room adjacent to the MFTU.​But as the sound of hammers and the scent of fresh, non-toxic paint filled the hallway, a different kind of toxin was leaching into the estate’s digital veins.Julian hadn't slept. The message from the "Sterling Elders" had been a targeted strike, not at the estate's firewalls, but at Julian’s own sense of security. He sat in the lab with Silas, the two of them surrounded by glowing monitors that traced the origin of the "Digital Ghost."​"It’s a Recursive Feedback Loop," Silas whispered, his fingers flying across the keys. "They aren't trying to crash the system, Juli

Monday morning marked the official start of the thirty-fourth week. In the medical world, this was the "Lungs Prime" threshold—the moment when the risk of long-term respiratory complications for the twins plummeted. For the Sterling-Vance household, it was a day of profound, quiet victory.​The MFTU was filled with the scent of fresh peonies and the soft, amber glow of a system that was finally in a state of grace. Elara sat propped up in her chair, watching the morning light hit the glass towers of Manhattan. She felt a strange, serene sense of completion. The "Millimeter War" was almost over, and she had held the line.​Julian and Silas arrived at the bedside mid-morning, carrying a sleek, lightweight vest made of Aether’s proprietary "Neural-Mesh" fabric.​"Dad, we realized something," Julian said, his voice stripped of its usual teenage bravado. "Mom has been carrying the weight, the pain, and the sensation of these two for thirty-four weeks. You’ve been watching them on a screen.

The first forty-eight hours after Aria and Caleb arrived were not defined by the quiet, soft-focus peace of a typical newborn nursery. Instead, the Sterling Estate felt like a tech startup in the middle of a global launch. The MFTU had been dismantled, but in its place stood a high-performance nursery that looked more like an observation deck than a bedroom.​Liam Sterling, a man who had navigated the most hostile corporate takeovers in history, was currently standing in the center of the room, looking at a digital readout that monitored the "Sync-Rate" of his two newest children.​"Twin A—Aria—is feeding at a 15% higher efficiency than the baseline," Liam noted, his eyes scanning a holographic chart. "But Caleb's sleep cycles are erratic. He’s resisting the automated rocker. He has a preference for the 15-degree incline, just like the delivery bed."​"Liam, put the tablet down," Elara said, her voice weary but laced with a new, maternal warmth. She was sitting in a wide, velvet armch

For the first time in twelve years, the humming servers in the basement of the Sterling estate were the loudest thing in the house. Everything else had softened. The "Empathy Link" monitors were still there, but Liam had stopped looking at them. He didn't need a digital pulse to tell him that Elara was exhausted; he could see it in the way her shoulders dipped as she rocked Caleb in the dim light of the nursery.​The high-tech "Gravity-Neutral Bed" had been pushed to the corner, replaced by a simple, hand-carved wooden rocking chair—the one Liam had struggled to build. It squeaked slightly, a rhythmic, human sound that no AI would have permitted, but Elara found it more comforting than any white-noise machine.​"He’s finally out," Elara whispered as Liam stepped into the room. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket; his sleeves were rolled up, and he smelled of the cedarwood he’d been using to build a toy chest in the garage.​"Give him to me," Liam said, reaching out.​There was a time wh

The transition from the Adirondacks back to Manhattan was usually a high-speed descent into noise and data. But as the vintage station wagon pulled into the gravel drive of the Sterling Estate, the silence from the cabin seemed to follow them inside.​Liam stood in the grand foyer, holding Caleb, who was fast asleep. He looked at the sleek, brushed-steel walls and the glowing blue LED strips recessed into the ceiling. For the first time in a decade, the house felt cold. It felt like a motherboard, not a home.​"Liam?" Elara asked, noticing him lingering by the door. She was carrying Aria, who was wide awake and gripping a small pinecone she’d refused to let go of since they left the lake.​"It’s too bright, Elara," Liam said quietly. "The house is trying to talk to me. I can feel the servers pinging my watch. It feels... intrusive."That evening, while the babies were settling into their cribs, Liam didn't go to his office. He went to the basement—the "Brain" of the estate.​Julian fo