Two and a Half Men-Jake the Genius

Chapter 81

Jake stepped into the Malibu beach house just after sundown. The place was unusually quiet, the sky outside glowing soft orange through the open deck doors. No music. No shouting. Just the distant hush of the waves.

He stood in the living room a minute longer than he needed to, staring at the space where he'd first coded FaceWorld on a beat-up laptop, back when the world didn't know his name. Everything looked smaller now. Or maybe he'd just grown.

Alan's laugh drifted in faintly from down the hallway. Jake followed the sound.

Living Room

Alan sat on the couch, legs kicked up, watching Jeopardy! with a bowl of stale popcorn and a glass of wine that clearly wasn't his. The screen glowed on his face. There were more lines around his eyes than Jake remembered.

"Living the dream, huh?" Jake said.

Alan jumped, nearly choking on popcorn. "Jake! Jeez. You scared me."

Jake smirked. "It's a beach house, Dad. Not a haunted mansion."

Alan gestured to the seat beside him. "Join me. I'm finally ahead of the contestants for once."

Jake sat, but didn't look at the screen.

"Can I ask you something personal?"

Alan blinked. "You? Asking permission? This must be serious."

Jake didn't smile.

"What happens when the divorce finalizes?"

Alan shifted. "I guess... I keep doing what I'm doing. Try not to screw it up. Stay out of Charlie's way."

Jake turned to face him fully. "I want to buy you a place. A real place. Something quiet. Yours."

Alan stared.

"You want to what?"

"You heard me. No more renting. No more bouncing between couches. A house, mortgage-free. Clean start."

Alan laughed, awkward. "Jake, I don't need a handout."

"It's not a handout. It's an investment. In you."

"I'm fine."

Jake leaned forward. "You sleep on a pullout that squeaks if you breathe too hard. You let people treat you like a joke so you don't have to rock the boat. I don't want that for you."

Alan swallowed.

Jake continued, softer now. "You're my dad. I want you to have some dignity again."

Alan looked down at his hands. "What if I mess it up? What if I can't keep it clean?"

"Then I'll help you. We try again. But you deserve a place to start from, not crash into."

There was silence, except for a contestant on TV shouting, "What is potassium?!"

Alan blinked. "You're sure?"

"I wouldn't offer if I wasn't."

Alan nodded slowly. "Okay. But only if I get to pick the curtains."

Jake smiled. "Deal."

---

Back Deck

Charlie was leaning on the railing, whiskey in one hand, phone in the other, eyes out over the ocean like he expected it to answer some kind of existential question.

"If you're out here looking dramatic, you nailed it," Jake said.

Charlie didn't look. "Some of us have depth."

"Some of us have unresolved stalkers."

That got Charlie to glance over.

Jake came to stand beside him.

"I need to ask you something. And I need you to not joke it off."

Charlie took a sip. "You're already asking a lot."

"It's Rose."

Charlie stiffened.

"Why haven't you called the cops?"

Charlie took his time with the answer. "Because... part of me thinks it's all just a weird dream. And another part thinks, if I call her out, she'll really lose it."

Jake nodded. "So you've just been waiting for her to go away?"

"Pretty much."

Jake exhaled. "That ends now. I'm hiring private security. Not just for me. For all of us. You, Dad, Judith. Everyone. I'm not taking chances anymore."

Charlie blinked. "That's... serious."

"Yeah. Because this isn't a sitcom anymore. It's real."

Charlie chuckled darkly. "You know, you're the only one in this house who seems to get that."

Jake looked at him. "She could hurt you. Or someone else. We can't ignore that."

Charlie didn't argue. For once, he just nodded. "Alright. Let's do it your way."

---

Kitchen

Berta was making coffee, half-asleep, hair tied back like she hadn't looked in a mirror in three days.

"Berta," Jake said, stepping in.

She looked up, instantly alert. "What did you break and why do I have to fix it?"

"Nothing. I just want to talk."

"Shoot."

Jake pulled out a folder and slid it onto the counter.

"This is a retirement package. Full pension. Health. Even beachfront housing in Malibu, if you want it."

She stared at him like he'd grown a second head.

"You trying to kill me off?"

"No. I want to thank you. You've held this place together for years. You've held us together. It's time someone did the same for you."

Berta looked at the papers, then at him.

"You serious?"

"Dead serious."

She sniffed. "You're too good for this world, kid."

"Don't spread it around."

The morning sun filtered through the wide windows of Jake's Brentwood home, casting soft beams across the marble countertops. The smell of coffee—Judith's daily ritual—floated through the air, but Jake didn't reach for a cup. He sat at the breakfast table, scrolling silently through alerts on his FacePhone, his face expressionless.

News anchors debated whether the U.S. government was too cozy with FaceWorld. His name was in the headlines again. Jake Harper: prodigy, billionaire, potential threat.

Across the table, Judith looked up from her granola and yogurt. "You're quiet."

Jake glanced up, eyes distant. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

He hesitated. "About keeping you safe. All of you."

Judith tilted her head, concerned. "Jake, we're fine. You're the one in the spotlight."

"Exactly. Which means everyone close to me is, too. And that's what worries me."

---

By noon, Jake was in Culver City, stepping out of a black car in front of a nondescript building with no signage. Inside, the walls were lined with monitors, tactical equipment, and muted voices on encrypted calls. This wasn't just a security firm. It was a private intelligence agency.

Vera Lang stood waiting.

She was in her forties, lean, dressed in dark slacks and a crisp blouse. Her gaze was sharp.

"Mr. Harper," she said, shaking his hand. "You don't look like a man in need of a security detail."

"Appearances are inefficient," Jake replied. "I need coverage. Silent, total, and smart."

They moved into a glass conference room. Jake laid out his plan with calm precision:

Personal protection team with rotation to avoid patterns.

Remote surveillance of his family, non-invasive, encrypted.

Facial-recognition fail-safes built into all FacePhones.

Reinforced biometric locks at Malibu.

"You're talking about a presidential-grade setup," Vera said.

"I'm thirteen. I run half the internet. I don't have time to die."

She smirked. "You're a terrifying little man."

"So you'll do it?"

"We already have. We've been watching you since D.C. This just makes it official."

---

Later that day, Jake arrived at the Malibu construction site.

The Arc Reactor prototype was taking shape—no longer blueprints and simulations. Engineers and materials scientists greeted him with nods as he passed through biometric gates and ID scans. Underground, the lab was humming.

"Omar," Jake called to the lead engineer, a quiet man with a physics doctorate and a soldier's posture.

"We're on track," Omar said. "Containment chamber passed stress tests. Power estimates are holding steady."

Jake walked around the steel-and-glass capsule at the center of the lab. He could feel the future in it. Everything he'd built—FaceWorld, FacePhone, Netflix, SoundStack—was just foundation. This... this was evolution.

"You ever think," Jake murmured, "about what comes after you change the world?"

Omar looked up. "Usually? You have to defend it."

---

That night, Jake returned home. Judith was reading on the porch, her feet tucked under her, a throw blanket on her lap despite the mild chill.

He sat beside her without saying a word for a long minute.

"You remember when I was just that lazy kid watching cartoons and spilling cereal?" he finally said.

Judith smiled faintly. "I remember you always had good timing when it came to avoiding chores."

"I miss that version of me sometimes."

"You've changed. You had to."

Jake nodded. "But I don't want you paying the price for that. I've hired a team. Discreet. You won't notice them, but they'll be there."

She set her book down. "Jake, is it really that dangerous?"

"Not yet. But it will be. I know what's coming, Mom. I can feel it in the code, in the silence between headlines. And I'm not waiting to be someone's victim."

Judith reached over, resting her hand on his. "I trust you. Just... don't lose yourself in all of this."