Chapter 87 Dual Perspectives
The dinner at Professor Sterling’s home had wound down. The candles had burned low. Mrs. Sterling had cleared the dishes and retired to the kitchen.
Professor Sterling sat in his armchair, swirling a glass of brandy. Caspian and Xiomara sat across from him on the sofa, waiting.
"You heard what Dr. Harrison said," Professor Sterling began. "He will consider your company. But I cannot offer you a guarantee."
Caspian’s jaw tightened. "Why not?"
"Because the final decision does not rest with Dr. Harrison." Professor Sterling set down his glass. "It rests with Grace. The developer. Dr. Harrison is merely her representative. She holds the cards."
Xiomara frowned. "So Dr. Harrison has no say?"
"He has influence. He will put in a good word for you. But the ultimate choice is hers." Professor Sterling looked at Caspian. "I promised to help you get a foot in the door. I’ve done that. The rest is up to you."
Professor Sterling leaned back. His expression was sour.
"To be honest, I find this Grace attitude irritating. Hiding behind anonymity. Refusing to meet anyone. Acting like she’s above the rest of us."
Xiomara nodded in agreement. "It does seem arrogant."
But Dr. Harrison had spoken highly of Grace earlier. Professor Sterling remembered the conversation.
"Dr. Harrison told me something interesting," Professor Sterling said. "He predicted that within ten years, Grace name would be revered throughout the pharmaceutical industry. That her work would change the way we treat cardiac arrest."
Caspian’s eyes widened. "He said that?"
"Word for word." Professor Sterling sighed. "I’ve known Old Gao for thirty years. He’s not prone to exaggeration. If he says Grace is special, she probably is."
Professor Sterling found himself growing curious about this mysterious figure. Who was she? Where did she come from? How had she developed such a groundbreaking formula?
But he knew better than to ask. Dr. Harrison had made it clear: Grace identity was not to be discussed.
"Dr. Harrison has arranged for you to visit the research institute tomorrow," Professor Sterling said to Caspian. "He will discuss the partnership terms with you there."
Caspian’s heart leaped. "Tomorrow?"
"Yes. Be prepared. He will ask detailed questions about your manufacturing capabilities, your distribution network, your financials."
Caspian nodded. "I’ll be ready."
Caspian was somewhat disappointed that Dr. Harrison had not given a definitive answer. He had hoped for a yes on the spot.
But the fact that Dr. Harrison had spoken so highly of him—that he had said Caspian’s company had an impressive track record—made his confidence soar.
He could do this. He could win this partnership.
He smiled.
They said their goodbyes to Professor Sterling and walked out into the cool night air.
The driveway was dark. The stars were bright.
Caspian turned to Xiomara. Before she could speak, he grabbed her waist and pulled her close. He kissed her. Hard. Passionate.
Xiomara was surprised. Then she melted into him. Her arms wrapped around his neck. She kissed him back with equal enthusiasm.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathless.
"Thank you," Caspian said. His voice was thick. "I couldn’t have done this without you."
Xiomara smiled. "You would have figured something out. You always do."
"You’re too modest." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Professor Sterling only agreed to help because of you. You’re the reason I have a chance."
Xiomara basked in the praise. "I told you I’d do everything in my power to help you."
Caspian kissed her again. Shorter this time. But no less intense.
That year, he kissed her once more before they got into the car.
Xiomara felt triumphant. She had delivered. Now Caspian would succeed. And she would be right there with him.
*
*
*
The shooting range was cold, but Veyra was sweating.
She had been at it for three hours. Her arms ached. Her shoulders burned. Her bandaged hands throbbed beneath the gloves Dorian had given her.
She squeezed the trigger. The gun kicked. The bullet hit the target. Not the center. Close.
Leon Wei stood beside her, his arms crossed, his face troubled.
"Mrs. Thorne," he said. "This is too much. You’ve been training non-stop. Your body needs rest."
"I’m fine."
"Your hands are still healing. Your arms are shaking. If you push too hard, you’ll injure yourself."
Veyra lowered the gun. She looked at him. "I need to be strong, Leon. I can’t afford to be weak."
"You won’t get strong by breaking yourself."
Veyra sighed. She knew he was right. But she could not stop. Not now.
"I don’t want to reduce the intensity," she said.
Leon considered this. Then he said, "Then we’ll adjust the schedule. Shooting practice in the morning. Physical conditioning in the afternoon. No more three-hour blocks."
Veyra nodded. "That sounds reasonable."
"You need to build endurance. Stamina. Core strength. Shooting is only part of the equation."
"Whatever you think is best."
Leon smiled. "Then we start tomorrow. Afternoon session. We’ll work on your legs and core."
Veyra smiled back. "Thank you, Leon."
They left the shooting range together.
Veyra walked back to her bedroom. The hallway was quiet. The lights were dim.
She took a long bath. The hot water soothed her aching muscles. She closed her eyes and let the steam wash over her.
She timed it carefully. She did not want to be in the bathroom when Dorian returned. She wanted to be finished. Ready. Composed.
She stepped out of the bathroom just as she heard the front door open downstairs.
Her hair was dry. Her clothes were fresh. She looked calm.
She walked into the living room.
Dorian was sitting on the sofa.
His expression was grave.
Veyra’s heart skipped.
"Good evening," she said tentatively.
Dorian did not respond. He did not look at her. His gray eyes were fixed on the window. The city lights reflected in them.
Veyra stood there for a moment, uncertain.
She tried again.
"Dorian? Is everything all right?"
He did not answer and the silence stretched.
Veyra’s palms were sweating beneath the gloves. She had never seen him like this. So still. So cold.
She took a step closer.
"Dorian," she said again, softer this time. "Please. You’re scaring me."
He looked up and his gaze was icy.
A shiver ran down Veyra’s spine.
"What’s wrong?" she asked.