?Chapter 25:


    After failing to sway William, Ste left the gathering defeated, heading home with heavy steps. As soon as she walked in, she spotted a new message from Lainey lighting up her phone.


    “I’m so sorry, Ste. I never should have pushed you to change. If it weren’t for me, William wouldn’t have misunderstood everything. This is on me. I handled it all wrong and ended up making things worse for you.”


    Ste read the message and let out a weary sigh. It wasn’t just the clothes—William had always viewed her through a lens of suspicion.


    She began typing a response. “Don’t worry, Lainey. None of this is on you.” If William doubted her, then she’d make damn sure he saw what she was capable of. She’d prove herself with the same grit and honesty she’d relied on all along.


    Lainey’s reply came quickly, weighted with guilt. “Ste, I only thought maybe if you dressed differently, William might actually notice your efforts…” Now, looking back, she felt like an idiot.


    William’s logic was impossible to pin down.


    “No, really, it’s all right, Lainey. I know you had the best intentions. I appreciate you helping arrange my meeting with Mr. Briggs today,” Ste typed back. Whatever happened, she couldn’t hold it against Lainey; the girl had only wanted to help.


    Seeing Ste’s patient reply, Lainey finally let herself rx, though a hint of guilt still gnawed at her. She silently vowed to exin the situation if William’s impression of Ste had soured because of her.


    Once the messages were sent, Ste set her phone aside and began getting ready for bed.


    Right then, the vi’s front door swung open, and Marc stepped inside, trailing a sharp wave of alcohol.


    Ste’s brow creased automatically. It was sote—she hadn’t expected him home tonight.


    Marc’s head hung low, messy bangs nearly obscuring his face.


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    Without a word, he fumbled the door shut and lurched across the room, each stride loose and unsteady as he headed straight for her.


    When he drew near, a vivid smear of red lipstick caught her eye on his cor.


    Now standing this close, Ste couldn’t ignore the harsh mix of alcohol and some stinging perfume wafting off him, making her nose prickle ufortably. She stepped back instinctively, trying not to sneeze, but Marc’s hand shot out and mped down on her arm, his fingers digging in.


    He leaned close, invading her space. “All day gone without a trace, Ste—what were you up to?”


    She answered promptly, her voice cold and steady. “I was in the researchb. Is there a problem? Honestly, the way you smell right now is making me feel sick.”


    Marc held her gaze, his expression unreadable.


    She kept herposure, showing no trace of rm. Nothing in her expression betrayed a lie, and Marc, rubbing his forehead, finally let go of her arm.


    “Alright, then.” Maybe he’d been overthinking things.


    Ste slipped from his grasp and made her way upstairs to the study.


    Across town, William lounged in the heart of the lively gathering, a ss of champagne bnced in his hand as he sank into the sofa, quietly surveying the room like an outsider.


    Samuel Acosta, the head of a researchb, spotted William alone and wandered over, swirling his own wine. “Mr. Briggs, I heard you’re handpicking people for the new project. I’ve been around the institute a long time—would you like me to introduce a few candidates?”


    William regarded Samuel for a moment, then dipped his head in a slow nod. “Go ahead.”


    With an easy smile, Samuelunched into introductions, breezing through the first few team members with polished, bite-sized summaries.


    The name “Ste Russell” seemed to flip a switch—suddenly, he was all enthusiasm.


    “Mr. Briggs, Ste’s the standout here—no contest. She’s picked up a shelf of awards since college, and her academic work pops up all over the web. Having her on the team is a real asset. She’s the one behind that award-winning paper on biologically active factors.”


    William paused with his champagne halfway to his lips, caught off guard by the revtion.


    He remembered the paper well—it had made waves across several fields, with results that spoke for themselves.


    Back then, he’d scoured the journal, but the author’s identity had been left out. So, she’d been the one to write it all along?


    His mind wandered, recalling the unexpected softness of her touch earlier. Maybe he’d gone too far in how he’d treated her today.


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