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“No.” One clipped syllable, loaded with irritation,
I couldn’t say no to those hopeful eyes. “I’d be happy to help”
“My work was part of larger research teams,” I said instead,
“My grandmother informed me you’ll be caring for the office puppy” he said, his tone making clear what he thought of that arrangement.
“And upset her further? No. He parked in his reserved space. “You’ll handle the dog, and you’ll work in the New Energy R&D Division as we agreed,”
I couldn’t help but smile at the image of little Arthur–the man who now commanded boardrooms with an iron fist–running from a harmless kitten.
“Noted, Dr. Finch.”
The ride to Sterling Group headquarters was silent and tense. Arthur finally broke it as we pulled into the underground parking garage.
“How much does he know about our… arrangement?”
“Wonderful! My grandson will show you everything tomorrow.” She squeezed my hand. “Now, I should get back before the nurses notice I’m gone.”
As I turned to leave, burning with indignation, he called after me.
He shook it briefly. “Your workspace is over there. He pointed to a small desk in the corner. “Arthur mentioned you have some undergraduate research experience?”
Leo snorted. “Right. Well, unless you’re secretly Dr. Wilson hiding behind that pretty face, I suggest you stick to walking the puppy and leave the real science to professionals.”
I smoothed my rumpled dress. “As I’ll ever be.”
His face flushed with anger. Who do you think you are?”
The computer was set up with the most basic access level possible. I couldn’t even view the division’s current projects. After an hour of trying various workarounds, I
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decided on a direct approach.
“Did your simulations account for the graphene substrate’s thermal expansion coefficient under sustained electromagnetic field exposure?”
Leo’s face hardened. “Excuse me?”
“Your computer access will be limited to basic systems. If you need specialized data, you’ll submit a request form.”
“I gather that wasn’t your idea.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “You know, you remind me of someone. There’s a researcher we’ve been trying to recruit–goes by ‘Dr. Wilson.‘ Brilliant but reclusive. No one knows their real identity.”
I continued reading, noting several fundamental flaws in their approach. Their energy conversion rate calculations were impressive, but they hadn’t accounted for thermal degradation under sustained load.
A tall man with sandy hair and piercing eyes strode toward us. Leo Finch had the Sterling jawline but none of Arthur’s restraint in his expression. His annoyance was plainly visible.
“I have research experience-”
I opened the binder and began scanning the pages rapidly, flipping through complex diagrams and dense equations. The project was fascinating–a new approach to quantum energy harvesting that could revolutionize power storage.
A strange memory flickered in my mind–a boy at the park, crying while a small tabby cat perched triumphantly on his head. I’d been there, hadn’t I? Watching from a bench where my mother had left me…
“I can provide value if you’d give me a chance.”
Leo stared at me, momentarily speechless. “How would you possibly know about-”
“Enter,” he called.
Arthur cleared his throat. “I have meetings. Leo will get you settled.” He turned on his heel and departed without another word.
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“Ready?” he asked curtly.
Leo’s skeptical gaze swept over me. “What’s your specialization?”
I kept my expression carefully blank as panic fluttered in my chest. That was my pseudonym for my most groundbreaking work.
“Right.” His skepticism couldn’t have been clearer. “Look, I’m sure your intentions are good. But our research requires actual expertise.”
“How thoughtful,” Leo replied, sarcasm evident. “And what qualifies you for such advanced research?”
“This is Leo Finch’s domain,” Arthur explained as we exited. “He’s my cousin and heads the R&D team. I’ve placed you under his supervision.”
“Of course,” I replied gently. “I enjoy our time together.”
“Kitten? For a dog?” Leo scoffed.
“We’ve just gotten a puppy for the office–a therapy animal program I insisted on. But the poor thing needs someone to care for him.” Her eyes crinkled with delight. “Would you mind? Just until we hire a proper handler?”
Old Mrs. Sterling leaned closer, her eyes twinkling with mischief despite her frail
condition.
“Yes, I do.”
“I think it suits him,” I replied innocently, enjoying Arthur’s discomfort.
I didn’t correct her delusion. Her Alzheimer’s created these false memories, and contradicting her would only cause distress.
He snatched the binder away. “That’s ridiculous. We’ve run simulations-”
“Interesting,” he replied, clearly thinking it was anything but. “We focus on breakthrough energy applications here. Not exactly your area.”
Before I could answer, a commotion erupted from a side room. A small golden retriever puppy bounded out, followed by a harried–looking assistant.
“I understand.”
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He shoved the binder back onto his shelf. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do. Feel free to flip through our company brochures–those might be more your speed.”
“Under what name?” he challenged. “Because I searched for publications by Elara Dubois this morning and found exactly nothing.”
“Something about that sounds familiar,” I murmured.
“I understand that. I’m only interested in the neurology section.”
“Everyone has ‘research experience,” he interrupted. “That could mean anything from washing test tubes to actual lab work.”
“Unnamed so far,” the assistant answered.
I took a deep breath. “I’ve published papers-”
Arthur intervened. “Elara also requires access to the research database.”
Of course he needed to brandish his credentials. Men like him always did.
“Understood.”
I kept my expression neutral. “I’m here to work, Mr. Finch.”
“Which happens to include our neural interface technology–one of our most valuable research areas.” He leaned back in his chair. “What exactly are your qualifications again? An undergraduate degree?”
Leo introduced me to the team with minimal enthusiasm before returning to his office. Most of the researchers offered polite smiles but quickly returned to their work. I settled at my desk with Kitten curled at my feet.
“Arthur,” he acknowledged coldly before turning to me. “And this must be the
mysterious Mrs. Sterling.”
Once he was gone, Leo’s professional veneer dropped completely.
“I could refuse-”
“The name sounds vaguely familiar.”
“Biochemistry, with a focus on neurological applications.”
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I helped her back to her room, tucked her in, and returned to my uncomfortable hospital chair, wondering what exactly I’d gotten myself into.
“I’d like to look at it,” I said.
The professional mask I’d worn for years–the careful anonymity I’d cultivated–nearly slipped away in that moment. I wanted nothing more than to tell this arrogant man exactly who I was, to see his face when he realized he’d just insulted the very “Dr.
Wilson” he claimed to admire.
Instead, I simply met his gaze coolly. “Who says I can’t understand it?”
The next morning, Arthur appeared at my door looking immaculate despite having spent the night at the hospital. His crisp suit showed no wrinkles, his hair perfectly styled–how did he manage that?
I stepped in, closing the door behind me. “Dr. Finch, I need access to the neurological research database for my Alzheimer’s project.”
“Elara,” I offered with an extended hand.
“Oh yes,” she nodded emphatically. “When he was five, a stray cat jumped on his head at the park. Poor thing screamed for an hour straight. Wouldn’t go near the garden for
weeks!”
He looked up from his tablet, irritation plain on his face. “Mrs. Sterling, this isn’t a public library. Our databases contain proprietary information worth billions.”
I nodded, keeping my frustration hidden. Limited access would severely hamper my Alzheimer’s research.
Arthur’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly–the only sign that my grandmother’s revelation had been accurate.
“You deserve a reward!” she announced suddenly. “Arthur mentioned you’ll be starting at the company tomorrow. I have the perfect position for you.”
Mrs. Sterling patted my hand. “You’ve been such good company, dear. Always checking on me, even with your busy schedule.”
He led me through the gleaming lobby, past security guards who nodded deferentially, and into a private elevator that whisked us to the top floor.
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“Your other assignment, Arthur said dryly.
“Your cooling system is insufficient. The quantum well structure will destabilize once- the ambient temperature exceeds 32 degrees Celsius.”
“What’s his name?” I asked.
“Let’s be clear,” he said, crossing his arms. “I don’t care who you’re married to. In this division, we value expertise and hard work, not connections.”
The puppy made straight for me, jumping excitedly at my legs. I knelt down, scratching behind his ears as he licked my hand enthusiastically.
We entered a spacious office area where a dozen researchers worked at glass–walled stations. They all looked up as Arthur walked in, straightening in their seats.
“Only that you’re my wife and will be working here temporarily. He doesn’t know about the divorce plans.”
“The puppy stays in your workspace when not being walked,” he continued. “If it disrupts our work, it goes.”
After less than a minute, Leo laughed. “You’re just flipping pages. You can’t possibly comprehend what you’re looking at that quickly.”
“This design will overheat after approximately 72 hours of continuous operation,” I remarked, still turning pages.
Leo stood up, towering over me. “This isn’t about chances. It’s about qualifications.” He walked to his bookshelf and pulled down a thick binder. “Let’s see how serious you really are.”
“Be my guest.” His smile was patronizing. “If you can understand even the abstract, I might reconsider your database access.”
The way he said “undergraduate” made it sound like “kindergarten.”
“A position?”
I froze at the door, then slowly turned back. “The cooling system that will fail after three days of operation? Congratulations.”
He dropped the binder on his desk with a thud. “This is our newest energy conversion
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project. Highly technical, cutting–edge stuff.”
I blinked, processing this unexpected revelation. “Cats? Really?”
Looking up at Arthur’s stoic face, a mischievous impulse seized me. “I’ll call him
Kitten.”
“Oh, and Mrs. Sterling? Next time you want to impress someone with scientific jargon, make sure they aren’t the person who wrote the paper you’re referencing. I developed that cooling system personally.”
I knocked on Leo’s office door.
“It’s Dr. Finch,” he corrected sharply. “PhD in quantum physics and applied engineering.”
“Do you? Because the last thing this team needs is a bored socialite playing scientist.”
Leo’s eyebrows shot up. “The entire database? Why?”
“Simple physics,” I replied. “The same issue affected the Chen–Walters prototype last
year,”
“Maybe you’ve heard of them?” he pressed.
My heart skipped a beat. He’d already checked my background. I couldn’t reveal I published under “Aurora” without exposing my entire secret identity.
“Arthur is terrified of cats,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Absolutely petrified! Has
been since he was a little boy.”
I stepped forward. “I’m interested in researching treatments for Alzheimer’s. For Mrs. Sterling’s sake.”
“He’d deny it to his dying breath, of course,” Mrs. Sterling continued. “But last
Christmas, my neighbor brought her Persian cat to dinner. You should have seen him! Made every excuse to stay on the opposite side of the room.”
