Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
M arise woke before the sun crested the treetops, the pale morning light brushing across the wooden walls of the cabin.
Kathleen lay curled beside her, her breath soft and her body warm.
For a moment, Marise simply lay there, eyes fixed on the ceiling, listening to the hush of the forest beyond the windows.
Recalling Kathleen’s declaration: I think I’m in love with you, sent her stomach curling in knots.
Marise had said nothing. She wanted to, but what could she say. I want this too, but we’re poles apart? I’m falling for you and that terrifies me?
She stared at the line of light edging the ceiling. Kathleen deserved honesty, and all Marise had given her was lies. She didn’t know yet that she had gone into the lab, had befriended Ted in an attempt to find out her secrets.
Kathleen shifted slightly in sleep, murmuring something unintelligible, and Marise’s chest ached with guilt.
Her parents would be horrified if they knew.
If they found out their brilliant, reclusive daughter had fallen in love with an escort.
And worse, someone who had been paid to spy on her, who had lived off the secrets of men and women who never asked questions.
Marise rolled onto her side, away from Kathleen and stared blankly into space.
What she felt now for Kathleen was serious. It had stopped being about the contract a long time ago.
Kathleen didn’t know that; she didn’t even know her real name.
The irony wasn’t lost on Marise. She’d stripped down every layer of someone else’s fraud, exposed corruption and greed at the highest levels, yet she couldn’t speak the one truth that mattered most.
Not for a while.
She slipped out of bed quietly, grabbed her phone from the chair where her jeans hung, and stepped over to the kitchen window, where a faint signal still clung to the satellite router.
The notifications hit instantly. Breaking News: Congressman Philip Conway Implicated in Secret Fossil Fuel Dealings, Whistleblower Reveals — New York Times.
Exclusive: Energy Sabotage? Congressman Linked to Contract on Environmental Scientist.
Another alert on page two: Radical Bioenergy Breakthrough: Dr Kathleen Knowles Publishes World-Changing Research — NYT Science Desk.
Marise quickly clicked open the exposé first. It was all there: Conway's back-channel dealings, his shell corporations, the secretly recorded Zoom call Lapwing had sourced.
The article outlined how a contract was placed through intermediaries to sabotage or eliminate a scientist working on round-breaking bioenergy tech.
Conway denied it. Blamed staffers. Claimed the recording was ‘selectively edited’.
It didn’t matter. The story was published. Conway had no option but to stop the contract on Kathleen. If anything happened to her now, the feds would investigate him immediately.
Behind her, she heard the rustle of blankets. Kathleen stirred, then sat up slowly, blinking sleep from her eyes. "Is it out?"
Marise nodded, turning the screen toward her. "Front page. A full column on Conway’s scrambling. And look. Page two."
Kathleen took the phone and scrolled, eyes widening. "They published my work."
Marise stepped closer. "Yes, you’re famous. They called it one of the most significant clean energy developments of the decade."
Kathleen stared at the article. Her paper, years of work, tucked into late nights and quiet frustration, was now public. "I thought I'd feel proud," she murmured. "But I feel... exposed."
"You did the right thing," Marise said. She placed a hand on Kathleen’s back. "Now the world knows, they can’t destroy your work."
Kathleen stood and walked to the window, still wrapped in the blanket. Outside, the trees were shrouded in mist. They stood together in silence—it was beautiful.
"What happens now?" Kathleen asked.
Marise hesitated. "Conway’s going to fight like hell. He’ll sue for defamation. He’ll claim the video is doctored. But the recordings, the paper trail, the funding links, they’re real."
"What about the threats on me?"
"This will put a spotlight on him. Make it too risky for him to keep the contract active. He’ll have to cut ties."
Kathleen looked over. "Shall we still leave today?"
Marise considered it, then shook her head. "Let’s stay one more day. We promised ourselves that. Let the storm rage while we stay quiet."
Kathleen gave a happy smile. "I’d love another day. We can pretend the world isn’t watching."
A round midday, while Kathleen made sandwiches and reheated leftover rice from the night before, Marise's laptop buzzed against the tabletop. When she opened it up, she fist-pumped after she read the message.
Lapwing: Contract withdrawn. Target cleared.
Marise stared, then let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Relief swept through her and she turned toward Kathleen with a wide grin. "It's gone."
"What?"
"The contract's off. Conway officially pulled it. You're no longer a target."
Kathleen blinked, then she gave a whoop. She ran into Marise's arms and hugged her tightly, laughing against her neck. "We're safe?"
"As safe as we can be for now."
They celebrated with the wine left over from the night before, and toasted each other on the front step of the cabin. Kathleen leaned against her, cheeks flushed, lighter than Marise had ever seen her.
Then Kathleen's laptop pinged an incoming message.
She glanced at the screen, expecting another media alert, but the subject line stopped her.
United States Patent and Trademark Office – Application Review.
Her eyes skimmed the message and she let out a cry of distress.
"What's wrong?" Marise asked immediately.
Kathleen sat up straighter. "They said thank you for my application… but that a patent had already been submitted."
"Already submitted? By whom?"
Kathleen didn’t answer. Her fingers flew over the screen, logging in to her secure research archive.
When she pulled up the listing, her worst fear was confirmed.
The application on file contained not only the summary she'd submitted, but the full version—complete with the extra equations, the proprietary modifications she’d kept out of the paper.
"Someone got into my lab," she whispered. "They stole everything."
Marise was already standing, alert. "We checked your access logs."
"The logs only track my login, not unauthorized copies. If someone was inside, they could have pulled it directly from the internal server."
"Does whoever submitted it have the right to patent your work?"
"I have no idea. I’ll look it up.” She tapped out the question and read out the answer to Marise. “The patent process typically takes 1.5 to 3 years from application to final grant.
The Initial review may take 6–12 months before it’s even looked at.
The competing application will be flagged as ‘first to file’, which matters under U.S.
law (since the 2011 America Invents Act).
Even though I’m the true inventor, proof of derivation or theft would be needed to challenge the rival filing. ”
“Damn,” Marise exclaimed. “That sounds like years of fighting in courts.” She tapped her fingers irritably on the desk. “Who has a key to your lab?”
“Ted, myself, Com Co the cleaning firm, and…,” she answered, her voice lower as she went on, “… my mentor and good friend, Edith Williams. You met her with Darlene at the dinner.”
“Yes. A charming, well-spoken woman with interesting conversation. What about the director of the institute.”
“No. I insisted my lab was out of bounds to all staff. My work was private. Do you think it could be someone from Com Co?”
Marise shrugged, remembering Lena. She was the only one with the key, and unless someone paid her to get them in, it couldn’t be her.
Lena was a cleaner—Kathleen’s work was way past her IQ.
And most people’s intelligence for that matter, herself included.
And she’d have to know what to look for.
“I’ll do some probing around and find out who lodged it,” she said, flexing her fingers.
Kathleen raised her eyebrows. “You can hack into a government department?”
“It’s not hard. Private companies have more security.
I have to find out first if it’s public.
” She opened her laptop and googled the question.
Then looked up when the answer appeared.
“The application takes months to be published so it’s not public.
I won’t be able to see who filed it through official channels.
I’ll have to hack into their internal database. ”
She connected to a shadow network through a spoofed relay in Zurich, bypassing the USPTO’s firewall with a custom exploit Lapwing had coded for federal document crawlers.
Her screen flooded with encrypted metadata, and within seconds, she decrypted the rival patent application.
It was an exact match to Kathleen’s research, submitted forty-two hours earlier under the name of EW Enterprises.
Kathleen stared down at it and gasped out, “EW—Edith Williams. No, no, that’s not possible. Edith would never steal my work.”
Marise looked at her sympathetically. “The initials fit, Kath. Maybe she needs the money. She would be one of the very few people who would understand what to compile for the patent.”
Kathleen blinked away tears. “We’d better go back today, Veronica. I have to get back to see her.”
Marise gave a tight nod, though it was upsetting to see Kathleen so distressed. “You want to confront her in person?”
Kathleen didn’t answer immediately. She turned away from the screen and pressed a hand to her mouth. “She’s been everything to me,” she said softly. “I don’t want to believe she’d do this.”
Marise walked over and gently placed a hand on her back. “Then help me understand. Who is she to you, really?”
Kathleen’s voice trembled as she began. “I met Edith in my first year of postgrad. I was… awkward. I didn’t know how to navigate the academic social circles. I could barely talk to people in the break room. My lab notes were a mess and I was on the verge of quitting.”
“She noticed?”
“She sat next to me one day during a seminar, and out of nowhere, said she liked my question. I hadn’t asked one. When I told her so, she laughed and said that’s what made it interesting.”
Marise smiled faintly. “Sounds like someone who thinks in riddles.”
“She did.” Kathleen ran her hands through her hair.
“She invited me to lunch after that. Kept doing it—I think I was a project at first. She took an interest in strays, and was kind. She helped me structure my first research proposal, taught me how to present at conferences, what to say when I was nervous. She even came to my parents’ Sunday dinner a few times. My mother adored her.”
Marise listened silently.
“Her background is in environmental chemistry,” Kathleen continued.
“She pioneered some of the early hydro polymers used in ocean cleanup tech, a big deal in the eighties. She’s semi-retired now, but she still mentors some researchers with independent funding.
She read every draft I ever wrote. She gave me feedback right up until six months ago. ”
“What happened then?”
Kathleen’s expression darkened. “I stopped sharing the sensitive data. I wanted to surprise her when it was all working. And… I was scared. I thought the less anyone knew, the safer it was.”
“But she had an access key?” Marise asked.
Kathleen nodded slowly. “Yes. She helped me set up the lab systems years ago. I never revoked her admin login.”
Marise swore under her breath.
“I need to believe this is a mistake,” Kathleen whispered. “That someone used her initials. She’d never…never do anything so unethical.”
“It sounds like her,” Marise said carefully. “But if it isn’t, you’ll need proof before confronting her. No accusations without something to back them up.”
Kathleen exhaled shakily and nodded. “Can we go after lunch?”
“Yeah. I’ll drive.”
Marise glanced once more at the patent document on the screen. EW Enterprises. It was a serious betrayal of trust, if that’s what it was. The kind that can’t be forgiven.