Through the shifting curtain of rain, three military vehicles rolled slowly into a gated estate, its manicured gardens and imposing buildings guarded by armed sentries.


    Eleanor peered out the window, watching one of the soldiers at the entrance snap a salute as their convoy passed through.


    "We''re almost there," Mansfield said, ncing over. "This is Guesthouse Three- the one reserved for foreign visitors and prominent academics."


    It was obvious from his tone that Mansfield knew every inch of Kingston.


    Eleanor nodded, following his gaze.


    Once the cars came to a stop at the entrance, Eleanor and Mansfield stepped out. From the car ahead, York andn joined them, umbres snapping open against the drizzle.


    "Mr. Goodwin, Dr. Windsor-this way, please." Mansfield''s voice was clear and weing as he gestured for them to follow.


    After all, the three guests were here as his father''s VIPs tonight, and it was his responsibility to make sure everything went smoothly.


    Mansfield carried Eleanor''s suitcase himself. After confirming the room assignments at the front desk, he led them to the eighth floor.


    Their rooms were all lined up along the same corridor. Eleanor swiped her keycard, and when she pushed open the door, Mansfield stepped in behind her with her suitcase. The door swung shut with a soft thud.


    Across the hall,n nced over, his features set and stern beneath the warm yellow glow of the overhead lights—a look even the gentle lighting couldn''t soften.


    Inside, Mansfield lingered on the balcony for a moment, watching the rain sweep across the grounds. Then he turned to Eleanor. "I''ll leave you to rest. See you tonight."


    "See you tonight," Eleanor replied, her voice calm.


    Mansfield was always considerate-never overstepping his bounds, no matter how much he might have wanted to linger.


    Once he''d gone, Eleanor set about unpacking. She''d brought a special outfit for the evening''s banquet; there was no way she''d show up in her thick winter coat. She hung up a charcoal-gray dress suit and finally exhaled, relieved.


    She stepped out onto the balcony to watch the rain, savoring the soothing rhythm against the ss. Rain always made her feel grounded-safe, even.


    A littleter, there was a knock at her door. A hotel attendant arrived, bearing a tray of desserts and tea. Eleanor smiled to herself. This must have been Mansfield''s doing.


    At noon, the doorbell rang again. Eleanor opened the door to find York waiting in the hallway. "Ready for lunch in the dining room?"


    "Sure," she said, grabbing her phone before following him out.


    They had barely settled into their seats whenn appeared. York waved him over. "Join us,n!"


    "Her face looks familiar," one of the neers said, smiling at Eleanor.


    "Ian introduced her, his voice low and steady. "Dr. Eleanor Sutton."


    "Dr. Sutton-you''re even younger than I imagined. A pleasure."


    Eleanor stood, shaking hands and offering polite smiles all around. In moments like this, personal rivalries were set aside.


    They gathered around a long table in the restaurant, a dozen of the nation''s leading doctors and innovators. Eleanor found York on her left andn on her right.


    "I''ve read your paper on brainputer interfaces," Garrison said, adjusting his sses. "Three consecutive publications in the top international medical journals -no one else at home has done that. Remarkable."


    Eleanor smiled modestly. "Thank you."


    When the waiter came around with wine for the table, she instinctively raised her hand over her ss, smiling. "Thank you, but I''ll just have tea."


    Eleanor opened her mouth to protest, but the server had already moved on. She felt a sh of annoyance atn''s presumption.


    Still, the mood at the table was light and lively. Eleanor found herself deep in conversation with a doctor fascinated by brainputer technology, with York chiming in as well. For a while, the lunch was filled withughter and effortless conversation.