The notifications hit instantly. Breaking News:Congressman Philip Conway Implicated in Secret Fossil Fuel Dealings, Whistleblower Reveals—New York Times.
Exclusive: Energy Sabotage? Congressman Linked to Contract on Environmental Scientist.
Another alert on page two:Radical Bioenergy Breakthrough: Dr Kathleen Knowles Publishes World-Changing Research—NYT Science Desk.
Marise quickly clicked open the exposé first. It was all there: Conway's back-channel dealings, his shell corporations, the secretly recorded Zoom call Lapwing had sourced. The article outlined how a contract was placed through intermediaries to sabotage or eliminate a scientist working on round-breaking bioenergy tech. Conway denied it. Blamed staffers. Claimed the recording was ‘selectively edited’.
It didn’t matter. The story was published. Conway had no option but to stop the contract on Kathleen. If anything happened to her now, the feds would investigate him immediately.
Behind her, she heard the rustle of blankets. Kathleen stirred, then sat up slowly, blinking sleep from her eyes. "Is it out?"
Marise nodded, turning the screen toward her. "Front page. A full column on Conway’s scrambling. And look. Page two."
Kathleen took the phone and scrolled, eyes widening. "They published my work."
Marise stepped closer. "Yes, you’re famous. They called it one of the most significant clean energy developments of the decade."
Kathleen stared at the article. Her paper, years of work, tucked into late nights and quiet frustration, was now public. "I thought I'd feel proud," she murmured. "But I feel... exposed."
"You did the right thing," Marise said. She placed a hand on Kathleen’s back. "Now the world knows, they can’t destroy your work."
Kathleen stood and walked to the window, still wrapped in the blanket. Outside, the trees were shrouded in mist. They stood together in silence—it was beautiful.
"What happens now?" Kathleen asked.
Marise hesitated. "Conway’s going to fight like hell. He’ll sue for defamation. He’ll claim the video is doctored. But the recordings, the paper trail, the funding links, they’re real."
"What about the threats on me?"
"This will put a spotlight on him. Make it too risky for him to keep the contract active. He’ll have to cut ties."
Kathleen looked over. "Shall we still leave today?"
Marise considered it, then shook her head. "Let’s stay one more day. We promised ourselves that. Let the storm rage while we stay quiet."
Kathleen gave a happy smile. "I’d love another day. We can pretend the world isn’t watching."
Around midday, while Kathleen made sandwiches and reheated leftover rice from the night before, Marise's laptop buzzed against the tabletop. When she opened it up, she fist-pumped after she read the message.
Lapwing:Contract withdrawn. Target cleared.
Marise stared, then let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Relief swept through her and she turned toward Kathleen with a wide grin. "It's gone."
"What?"
"The contract's off. Conway officially pulled it. You're no longer a target."
Kathleen blinked, then she gave a whoop. She ran into Marise's arms and hugged her tightly, laughing against her neck. "We're safe?"
"As safe as we can be for now."
They celebrated with the wine left over from the night before, and toasted each other on the front step of the cabin. Kathleen leaned against her, cheeks flushed, lighter than Marise had ever seen her.
Then Kathleen's laptop pinged an incoming message.
She glanced at the screen, expecting another media alert, but the subject line stopped her.
United States Patent and Trademark Office – Application Review.
