Chapter 110:


    “Try it,” Isolde said. “Break the door down. I have the police on speed dial. Do you want another headline? Lancaster CEO Arrested for Home Invasion?”


    She pressed the Power Off button. The screen went ck.


    A secondter, a heavy thud shook the door. A kick.


    Then silence.


    Isolde backed away, her heart hammering. She looked at Effie, who was crouched behind the sofa with both hands pressed over her ears.


    Isolde walked over and lowered herself to the floor. She wrapped her good arm around her daughter and held her close.


    “It’s okay,” she whispered into Effie’s hair. “The bad man is gone.”


    She pulled out the burner phone And had given her and dialed Arthur Stone.


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    “Stone,” thewyer answered on the first ring.


    “File the restraining order,” Isolde said, her eyes fixed on the door. “And the criminal charges. Don’t wait.”


    “Isolde, are you sure? Once we do this—”


    “He just tried to kick down my door,” Isolde said. “I’m not negotiating anymore. I’m hunting.”


    The lobby of Orbital Systems hummed with the quiet, expensive energy of innovation — a cathedral of ss and steel.


    Isolde walked through the turnstiles at eight-thirty in the morning. She wore a white silk blouse with the left sleeve pinned up to amodate her ckposite brace. Her face was pale, the dark circles beneath her eyes hidden underyers of concealer, but her spine was steel.


    She swiped her badge. The light turned green.


    Heads turned. Whispers rippled through the open-n office like a breeze through dry grass.


    “That’s her.”


    “The drone victim.”


    “Is that really Sophia?”


    Isolde ignored them. She kept her eyes fixed on the ss office at the end of the hall. And wasn’t in yet. She settled at her desk — a temporary station in the main engineering bullpen while her office was being prepared.


    “Well, look who decided to show up.”


    ire leaned against the partition, holding a steaming mug of coffee. Her smile was sharp, without warmth.


    “Morning, ire,” Isolde said, sitting down. The movement jarred her arm, sending a fresh wave of pain up her shoulder. She gritted her teeth and refused to wince.


    “I’m surprised to see you in,” ire said, her eyes fixed pointedly on the brace. “I assumed you’d be taking extended medical leave.”


    “I have work to do,” Isolde said, booting up her workstation.


    “Good.” ire’s tone turned brisk, all business. She dropped a heavy encrypted hard drive onto the desk. The thud made Isolde flinch. “NASA just dumped the raw telemetry from the deep-space probe. They need the orbital decay rate calcted and the fuel optimization model finalized. By noon.”


    Isolde looked at the drive. That was a three-day job for a full team.


    “Noon?” Isolde asked.


    “And has a board meeting at one o’clock. He needs the preliminary data to secure the next funding round,” ire said, crossing her arms. “Look, I know your situation is difficult. If you can’t handle it with your injury, just say so. I can reassign it. But we can’t afford dys.”


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