Chapter 9:


    “Coffee,” And said, steering her toward the cafe. “My treat. Since you just insulted my lead engineer’s work in three seconds.”


    Isolde sat in the corner booth. She felt exposed.


    “So,” And said, leaning back. “The great Valkyrie. Hiding in in sight as… what? A Lancaster trophy wife?”


    “Ex-wife,” Isolde corrected.


    And mmed his hand on the table. “Finally! I hated that man. He looks like he was manufactured in a boardroom.”


    Isolde couldn’t help but smile. “He basically was.”


    And slid the schematic back to her. He pulled a pen from his pocket.


    “Prove it,” he said. “Prove you’re still her.”


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    Isolde looked at the paper. Her fingers itched. It had been so long since she had solved a problem that wasn’t about a dinner menu or a stain on a rug.


    She took the pen.


    The world narrowed down to lines and vectors. Her hand moved with a speed and precision that made And’s eyes widen. She crossed out the intake valve. She redrew thepression chamber geometry. She added a bypass duct.


    Five minutester, she capped the pen.


    “There,” she said. “Now it won’t explode.”


    And stared at the drawing. He traced the lines with his finger. He let out a low whistle.


    “You just saved me six months of R&D,” he murmured. “And about ten million dors.”


    He reached into his jacket and pulled out a checkbook.


    He wrote quickly. He tore the check out and slid it across the table.


    Isolde looked at it. $50,000.


    “Consulting fee,” And said.


    Isolde stared. Her hands shook. This was more money than she had seen in her own name in five years. “And, I can’t—”


    “Take it,” he ordered. “I’m serious. And I want to offer you a job. A ghost position. Shadow Director of Advanced Projects. No one needs to know your name. But I need your brain.”


    He leaned in closer.


    “You know SkyLine is presenting at the Aerospace Expo next month?”


    Isolde stiffened. SkyLine. Grayson’spany.


    “Belle Escobar is presenting their new gship jet,” And said. “The Phoenix-X7.”


    Isolde felt the blood drain from her face.


    “The Phoenix,” she whispered. “That was my design. My prototype. I left the files on my server when I married Grayson.”


    “They’re iming Belle designed it,” And said grimly. “They’re calling her the new face of aviation.”


    Isolde’s hand curled into a fist on the table.


    They stole it. They stole her work. Her legacy. And they gave it to the woman who stole her husband.


    She looked at the check. Then she looked at And.


    “I’m in,” she said.


    And grinned. “I thought you might be. Publicly using them of theft now is just mudslinging without the original source code. But if you, the creator, unveil something better at the expo… that’s not just a scandal, it’s a public execution. I’ll get you on that stage, Valkyrie. In return, your next design belongs to me.”


    Isolde took the check. She pulled out her phone and deposited it via the banking app immediately.


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