Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
T he drive back was quiet, the kind that wasn’t peaceful.
Her mind in a whirl, Kathleen sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms folded across her chest, eyes locked on the blur of the roadside trees.
Veronica let her stew in silence. The tension in Kathleen had shifted, no longer feeling high-alert anxiety of being hunted, but now one of betrayal.
She couldn’t believe Edith would do this to her.
All the afternoons she had spent helping Kathleen rehearse talks, going over data line by line until it made sense.
The way she’d intervened once, gently but firmly, when a senior researcher dismissed Kathleen’s early ideas as impractical.
She had always defended her, because sometimes Kathleen didn’t have the words to defend herself.
Edith had been like a second mother, the one who saw the strange shape of her mind and loved it anyway.
Kathleen remembered the night that she had spent until midnight helping her before a major conference, printing slides, fixing a corrupted file, and ordering takeaway when Kathleen was too stressed to eat.
She’d quietly pulled her out of a panic spiral in a hotel bathroom once, minutes before Kathleen’s first panel presentation, simply by sitting beside her and reminding her she’d earned her place there.
When Kathleen got her first major grant, it was Edith who bought her a bouquet and a bottle of prosecco and left them outside her office door with a handwritten note: Told you so.
She forced back the tears that threatened to fall.
As they reached the heavy traffic, Veronica glanced over at her. “Are you all right.”
Kathleen sniffed. “Not really, but I’m getting on top of it.”
“We’ll be home soon. I’ll drop you off and keep going. There’re a few things I have to do. Shall I come over tonight?”
“I’ll have to see mom and dad. They’ll be waiting to hear all about my research now it’s published.”
Veronica reached over with one hand and squeezed her thigh. “Okay. If you have time, give me a ring to let me know how you got on with Edith.”
“I’ll make time,” Kathleen said, knowing she was going to need her support. Confrontation with Edith was going to be horrendous.
When they reached her building, Veronica pulled up outside. She leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’ll see you soon.”
Kathleen unclipped her seatbelt and opened the door, hating to leave her. “Bye,” she said and stepped out onto the pavement.
In her apartment, she unpacked and threw her dirty clothes in the washing machine.
Then she showered, dressing in something that meant business—a dress and low boots, the kind of thing she used to wear when Edith took her to networking events and made her practice introductions.
She dried her hair, left it loose, and put on a single pair of earrings.
Her hand trembled as she slipped her laptop into her bag.
When she arrived at Edith’s house, an elegant, white building with black trim, Kathleen hesitated at the door, steeling herself for the emotional encounter. She stood there for nearly a full minute before pressing the bell.
It opened faster than she expected.
“Kathleen!” Edith’s face lit up. “Oh, my dear girl. I saw the article this morning—I was absolutely thrilled.”
Before Kathleen could respond, Edith pulled her into a firm, affectionate hug. It caught her off-guard.
“You clever thing,” Edith said, pulling back slightly. “Come in, come in. You must tell me everything.”
Kathleen followed her inside, still disoriented by the warmth. The living room hadn’t changed—same woven rugs, worn-in leather armchair, the bookcase full of books, same air of scholarly charm.
“Sit,” Edith said, already heading toward the sideboard. “Do you want tea or something celebratory?”
“Wine would be nice,” Kathleen eyed her closely. She wasn’t showing any signs of guilt.
Edith poured two glasses of a pale Riesling and returned, handing one to her. “Now tell me. News of your paper is the talk of the academic circles. Your parents must be beside themselves.”
Kathleen managed a faint smile. “I’ve been out of town for a couple of days preparing the paper. I’ll see them tonight.”
“The plants? How do they work?”
Kathleen nodded, overcome by the need to discuss her work with her mentor like old times.
“They’re genetically engineered aquatic plants.
They generate power through multiple channels, light, motion, even atmospheric electricity.
Their cells contain modified organelles that store energy in dense molecular bonds.
It’s... sort of like a living battery. A very efficient, very green battery.
” Then she went on to explain the concept more thoroughly.
Edith’s eyes gleamed when she finished. “Good lord. And here I was happy getting moss to clean toxins. You’ve taken it to the stars.”
Kathleen chuckled weakly, then took a sip of wine. She stared into the glass and took a deep breath. “Edith… can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
She hesitated. “I need you to be honest with me.”
Edith turned toward her, attentive now.
Kathleen reached into her bag and pulled out her laptop. She tapped the screen until the rival patent appeared, then turned it toward Edith. “Do you know anything about this?”
Edith took the phone and squinted at the EW Enterprises header. The date. The data.
“What is this?” she asked, seeming genuinely puzzled.
“It’s my work,” Kathleen said. “Filed under your initials. Forty-two hours before my own patent was submitted.”
Edith blinked, then looked at her with more sorrow than surprise. “Kathleen… no. I didn’t file this.”
“You have admin access. You’ve seen my drafts. You know my design. It’s the full version, Edith, not only what I published. It includes the proprietary data.”
“I understand,” Edith stated earnestly. “But I swear to you, I didn’t do this.”
Kathleen studied her, the way her face didn’t change, the lack of defensiveness. No deflection. No justifications, simply quiet devastation.
“I didn’t know about EW Enterprises,” Edith added. “I haven’t filed a patent in over ten years.”
Kathleen’s throat tightened. “Then who?”
Edith reached out and gently rested a hand over hers. She shook her head. “I don’t know, darling but whoever did this is a thief.”
Kathleen sat back, the tension seeping out of her spine in a slow, exhausted wave.
“You were right to ask me,” Edith said. “And I’m glad you did.”
“I didn’t want to.”
“But you had to. This is your life’s work and you needed to be sure.”
They sat in silence for a long moment.
“Whoever submitted that patent,” Edith said, “had total access and it had to be someone who understood your design and your habits. You should consider who’s had access to your lab in the past few months.”
Kathleen nodded slowly. “I honestly don’t know anyone who would do something like this.”
Edith gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Let me help however I can. You’re not alone in this, Kathleen. Whoever they are, they will have to make themselves known eventually.” She looked at her anxiously. “You are going to fight this, aren’t you?”
“Of course,” said Kathleen. “I’m going to lodge my objection immediately. I’ve…a friend who’s going to help me.”
“Good. I will write a testimonial for you, saying I believe you are the only one who could have invented this. My opinion will carry weight.”
Kathleen smiled at her, believing her now. Edith was right. Whoever was behind the patent claim couldn’t stay hidden. With Veronica and Edith by her side to support her, Kathleen was going to fight this tooth and nail.
K athleen arrived at her parents’ home before dusk.
Their house sat neatly back from the road, framed by hedges and flowerbeds Rhonda tended religiously.
As she walked up the path, a familiar pang of anxiety threaded through her chest. No matter how old she got, there was always something daunting about returning home after a seismic shift in her life.
Her mother opened the door before Kathleen could knock. “Sweetheart!” Rhonda pulled her into a hug, warm and scented with lavender and vanilla. “You’re here. Your father’s still arguing with the television, but I’ve told him you’re coming. Come in, come in.”
The house smelled like roast chicken and rosemary. The comfort of it made Kathleen’s throat tighten.
“I saw the article in the paper,” Rhonda said as they walked through to the kitchen. “I printed it. It’s on the fridge.”
Kathleen laughed. “You didn’t.”
“I absolutely did. My daughter, in The New York Times . You think I wasn’t going to laminate that?”
Her father, John, rose from his armchair as she stepped into the lounge room. “There she is,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion. “Come here, girl.”
Kathleen stepped into his arms, hugging him tightly. He didn’t say much, just held her, and gave her a quiet pat on the back.
They sat in the lounge having pre-dinner drinks while Kathleen explained her research in layman terms. She described how the plants worked, the energy they stored and the potential for the future they held. Her parents listened, wide-eyed and beaming.
“That’s astonishing,” John said. “And to think we used to worry when you wouldn’t talk to anyone in preschool.”
“Dad,” she said, half-laughing, half-mortified.
“No, I mean it,” he said. “You were always bright, but you needed space and time. Now look at you.”
Rhonda reached across the table and covered Kathleen’s hand with hers. “We’re so proud of you, sweetheart.”
Kathleen looked down at their hands, and for a moment she couldn’t speak.
When she finally did, her voice was quieter. “There’s been a complication. Someone submitted a patent using my data. Before I could.”
Her parents looked at each other, then back at her.
“But it’s your work,” Rhonda said. “Surely that’s easy to prove?”
“It should be,” Kathleen said. “Though I have to prove it. I’ve got people behind me. I only wanted you to know... in case things get messy.”
John’s voice was steady. “We’ve got your back, Kath. Whatever happens.”
She smiled at him gratefully.
Rhonda stood up. "Come on, I’’ll serve dinner. You look like you haven’t eaten in days."
"I have," Kathleen said, following her into the kitchen. "Sort of."
They settled into a relaxed rhythm, the dinner laid out in the dining room, with a glass of champagne to celebrate. Kathleen’s mouth watered. Roast chicken, her favourite.
Midway through the meal, Rhonda glanced up. "So, where have you been the last couple of days? We tried calling. But your phone kept going to voicemail."
Kathleen paused, buttering a slice of bread with exaggerated care. "I was out of town. I needed some space to finish the paper."
"Out of town where?" her mother pressed, clearly curious.
Kathleen kept her voice neutral. "To a cabin in the country. A quiet place."
"Alone?"
Kathleen gave a vague smile and reached for her glass. "With a friend."
Rhonda raised a brow. "Anyone we know?"
"No," Kathleen said, still polite. "Not someone you’ve met."
Her mother let the topic drop, but not without a subtle narrowing of the eyes, the kind that suggested she hadn’t given up.
Kathleen sighed. She wished she could tell them about Veronica but she had no idea how they would take it.