LAPWING:Offshore account in the Bahamas. Deposits routed monthly. Used a firm registered to a woman named Darlene Hunt.
MARISE:Darlene Hunt. Are you sure?
LAPWING:Positive. Last transfer was two days before the auction listing went live. Amount: $150,000. Memo line blank.
Marise stood slowly, letting it settle in. Darlene Hunt. The woman who had met her eyes over lunch like she was a commodity, bought and paid for.
Edith’s friend was the thief.
The patent was a red herring. Darlene never expected to win that in court—she’d filed it to buy time, to muddy the waters while she set up something far more lucrative. The real plan was always the auction. With the data exposed, international bidders circled while Kathleen was distracted by legal chaos, leaving Darlene to profit in silence. Shit. Big corporations would pay a fortune for the intel. They’d set up their own scientists and reap millions from Kathleen’s hard work.
The bastards!
MARISE:Copy everything. Freeze the wallet if you can. We go deeper tomorrow.
LAPWING:Already ghosting the node. Be careful, Lark. Whoever’s doing this plays for keeps. It’s big wigs we’re talking about.
Marise logged off and leaned back in her chair. The glow of the screen took her eye, but her mind was elsewhere, trying to solve the problem.
If she went after Darlene too hard, too fast, the woman would vanish. With her contacts, her wealth, and the false identities she clearly trafficked in, she could disappear in a matter of hours.
Marise drummed her fingers against the table.
She needed to take Darlene down before the auction was concluded. Once she got her money she would vanish back to Dubai and Kathleen’s notes and equations would be out of their reach.
They had to get Darlene out in the open. Get the Feds involved and a confession before she left the country.
Marise stared out the window, an idea forming.
If it worked, she could bring her down, but it would wreck any hope she had for a life with Kathleen.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Kathleen stepped into the lab and let the door ease shut behind her. The familiar scent of the nutrient solution wrapped around her like a second skin. It was cool inside, the lights casting a bluish tint over the tanks where her plants floated like luminous creatures from another world.
Ted was there, crouched beside one of the water filters, adjusting a pressure valve. He looked up when he heard her and blinked in surprise.
"Hey," he said, as he stood and brushed his hands on the sides of his lab coat. "Didn’t expect to see you in today. I thought you were taking another day off."
Kathleen offered a small smile. "I needed to check a few things. And I wanted to see how the plants were holding up. You read my paper?"
Ted nodded. “Of course I did. It’s been everywhere and it’s all everyone’s talking about. Congratulations.” He gave her a look that hovered somewhere between hurt and curiosity. “You didn’t mention you were going to submit."
"I know. I’m sorry," she said, stepping further into the room. "It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision. Everything came together so fast. I barely had time to think."
He accepted that with a slow nod, though he didn’t look entirely convinced. "Still… would’ve been nice to get a heads-up."
"You’re right," she said softly. "I should’ve told you."
Ted turned back to the nearest tank, fiddling with the readout display. The plants inside pulsed with a faint bioluminescence, their fronds curling slightly as if responding to the sound of their voices.
"I’ve been meaning to tell you something too," he said after a beat. "I’m nearly done with my thesis. I’ll be submitting in a couple of weeks. End of the month, actually."
Kathleen blinked. "That’s wonderful, Ted. I’m proud of you."
"Thanks," he said, his voice subdued. "So, I’ll be finishing up here soon and moving on."
She felt a wave of disappointment. "I guess I always knew this wasn’t permanent for you, but I’ll still be sorry to lose you. You’ve been a wonderful support."
