Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Start wrapping things up.
Glancing around again, she’d always intended to die here in this house: This was supposed to be her toe-tag property. For most people, that was an old-age thing, but not for her. Still, that had been the plan. The banks, however, weren’t going to let that happen. The debt she’d taken on was attached, like its own kind of cancer, to any asset she had—and as with metastasis, it had spread through her stock portfolio, this real estate, the equipment in the lab, her cars, the art. She had pushed her leverage as far and as hard as it could go to buy herself time to run the lab with all of its employees and expenses. Each day and night was another advancement in experimentation, results analysis, and new compound ideas, even as Vita-12b had been the real horse to bet on.
So much had been riding on that initial human test, and the fact that she’d been prepared to do it herself had been a kind of poetic justice, a money-where-her-mouth-was moment. Except then the pregnancy had happened, and Gus had left the company—and everything had gotten even worse after that.
She had never once considered leaving the drug to any child she might have or had any second thoughts on those documents she’d signed. The compound really was Gus’s, the result of his brilliant mind and all his hard work. Besides, she had done some very ethically questionable things in pursuit of her business goals.
Contaminating her baby with all that had been a wrong-foot-start that she hadn’t been interested in.
Putting her hand on her belly, she felt the ache in her heart kindle up. The sorrow and emptiness behind her sternum were on a rheostat, she was discovering, flaring and subsiding depending on what her focus was at any particular time. But they were never not there—
A light flashed underneath the desk’s plane of glass, and she closed her eyes and shook her head. Then she reached under the lip, pushed a button, and a seam opened on the expanse. Like Cinderella’s glass slipper on a tufted pillow, the black office phone presented itself as a gift, its base rising up. There was no sound associated with the incoming call, just the light. She hated ringing.
On the digital display, instead of numbers, the word “BLOCKED” appeared.
She didn’t want to answer things, but she reached out and picked up the receiver. “Gunnar, it’s the middle of the night.”
“Getting closer to dawn, actually, for you.”
“How’s the weather in Houston.” She swiveled toward the long windows even though there was nothing to see out of them. “Or did you have something else on your mind.”
“Must we play these games,” he said with a sigh of defeat.
“Apparently.”
It was their typical banter, yet neither was putting much effort into it.
“What can I do for you?” She rubbed her temple as it began to pound. “And before you ask, no, I still don’t know where Gus is.”
The lie was smooth off her tongue. Then again, she had been posing in front of business competitors for the last decade and a half at the negotiating table. Hell, her whole life was a front.
“I have to say, I’m not sure why I’m calling.”
“Then I’ll help you out.” She let her head drop back on the chair’s padding. “You’re going to behave like a superior asshole, I’m going to call you on your shit—”
“Must you be so crass—”
“—and we’re going to end with me having the upper hand and you steaming as you hang up on your end.”
“That is not how things go.”
“The fuck it isn’t. Sorry, ‘fudge.’ ”
There was a period of silence, and she imagined the man—dressed in his European-cut suit, with his tie right up to his throat even though it was late—grinding his molars as he sat in an office every bit as streamlined as her own. The picture of irritation was so satisfying, she wanted to go another couple rounds of prognostication peppered with cursing calisthenics.
And how’s that for a mouthful—
“You were right.”
Cathy blinked. Then frowned. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I am not repeating those words. I have no idea why I am saying them in the first place.”
“Well, this is a surprise. And if you keep up with the compliments, I’ll add you to my speed dial.”
There was a shuffling sound, as if Rhobes were rearranging himself. “That was not a compliment. Merely a statement of fact.”
“I’ll take it as I wish—and you’re wasting that holier-than-thou expression with your eyebrows up along your hairline. This isn’t a Zoom call.”
“I despise you, Phalen.” Except there was a chuckle behind the statement. “And the reason you were right is that the car was in the garage.”
“I’m sorry.” She sat forward. “What?”
“I endeavored to send an attorney to Dr. St. Claire’s condominium so that the employment documents could be signed and notarized. You remember, that gentleman works for me now?”