The violence of capital is almost always silent.


    Just then, Eleanor''s phone buzzed. She nced at the unfamiliar number, hesitated, then answered, "Hello? Who''s this?"


    "Dr. Sutton, it''s Marcus-perhaps the name doesn''t ring a bell."


    Marcus? Of course Eleanor remembered him. He used to ben''s project manager, and after the sess of a major project, the shareholders had promoted him to vice president.


    "Mr. Chase, what do you need?" Her tone cooled noticeably.


    "It''s about the news online. As you''ve probably seen, the board thinks it''s time to form a shareholder oversightmittee. I''m calling to invite you to join."


    Eleanor''s voice was ice. "Mr. Chase, I have no interest in your power games. Don''t drag me into them."


    "Dr. Sutton, don''t be so quick to say no," Marcus coaxed smoothly. "You''re a shareholder, too. Are you really going to sit by and watchn burn everyone''s money in a bottomless pit?"


    "Have you actually looked into the neural interface project? If you haven''t bothered to understand it, you have no right to make those usations," she shot back.


    Marcus gave an awkward chuckle. "I know you''re the chief researcher, but I also heard you and Mr. Goodwin have been at each other''s throats since the divorce. Don''t you hate him, too?"


    Eleanor said nothing.


    He pressed on. "Honestly, Mr. Goodwin isn''t fit to be CEO anymore. A lot of his decisions have angered the shareholders. We''d like to rmend someone with better judgment to rece him—”


    Eleanor cut him off. "Mr. Chase, you''ve got the wrong person."


    "Dr. Sutton, just think about it. This is your best shot at getting back at your ex. Bring him down, and we all benefit." Marcus finished, polite to thest. "I won''t keep you from your rest."


    When the call ended, Eleanor finally saw the game for what it was. Marcus must be the one stirring up the shareholders againstn-he wantedn''s seat for himself.


    Butn wasn''t a fool; surely he saw thising.


    All Eleanor cared about was the neural interface project. Ifn was ousted, Goodwin & Co. would pull the funding, and the project would be dead in the water. She remembered the Secretary of State''s earnest encouragement just days ago.


    This was a research program the Secretary was personally invested in. Hadn''t he specifically arranged for Mr. Windsor to bring Drexford''s research data back to the States? That was his intention, wasn''t it?


    He wanted a breakthrough on home soil, and Eleanor had been entrusted with the responsibility. If the project was axed now-


    Eleanor paced in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, arms crossed, staring out at the city lights. After several circuits around the room, she made her choice between personal vendetta and the future of science.


    She picked up her phone and dialedn''s number.


    “Hello,” he answered almost immediately.


    "I''ll write your three-year roadmap. In three days, you can call a board meeting."


    There was a pause, then his voice came, low and rough. "Why are you suddenly helping me?"


    Eleanor let out a dryugh. "Don''t tter yourself. I just don''t want to see the neural interface project sacrificed to your little power struggle. This has nothing to do with you."


    Eleanor hung up, headed for her study, and opened the encrypted file York had sent her. It was time to start drafting the three-year n.


    Meanwhile, on the top floor of Goodwin & Co.''s executive suite, Gavin entered with a cup of tea and foundn sitting on the sofa. The lines of worry had eased fromn''s brow, and for the first time in weeks, a faint smile yed at the corners of his mouth.