Chapter 29
CHAPTER 29
Russ felt his muscles coil like springs, every word crackling through the intercom amplifying his anger. Michael’s arrogance, his dismissive tone, and the venom in his words had Russ itching to bolt upstairs and put an end to this.
Hillary’s hand on his arm was the only thing keeping him rooted in place, her grip tightening as though she could feel his restraint fraying.
Michael let out a long, exaggerated sigh, his voice dripping with disdain. “You know what the problem is, Claire? It’s the patients. They’re selfish. Everyone claims they want science to move forward, that they want humanity to evolve, but when it comes down to it? No one’s willing to take the risks themselves. They all want someone else to step up, to suffer, so they can reap the benefits later.”
The room below buzzed with horrified murmurs, guests whispering in shocked tones. Russ clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening as he leaned forward slightly, every nerve in his body screaming for action.
“What are you saying?” Claire’s voice came through, trembling but pushing for clarity.
“I’m saying people like me—people with vision—we have to push boundaries,” Michael snapped, his frustration clear. “We have to make decisions that the average person doesn’t have the stomach for. And yes, that means some people get hurt. But that’s the price of progress.”
Claire’s voice, still trembling, gained an edge. “You mean the patients,” she said softly, a tremor of disbelief underlying her words. “There have been serious injuries. Permanent damage.”
Michael scoffed, brushing off her concern. “Injuries happen. This isn’t magic, Claire. It’s science. And science isn’t perfect—at least, not yet. But we’re getting closer, and every failure is a step toward success.”
Russ’s breathing turned shallow. The self-righteousness, the lack of accountability—it was everything he despised in a man like Michael. He could feel the room around him buzzing with outrage, but his focus was laser-sharp on the conversation above.
Claire didn’t let up, her voice rising slightly. “You’re talking about real people, Michael. People who trusted you. At first, when you asked me to alter results in the lab, you said it was to deal with the corrupt advisory and compliance board. You made it sound like we were fighting a broken system.”
“And we are!” Michael barked.
“But now,” Claire continued, her voice steadier, “real people are being permanently maimed because your technique is dangerous. The list is growing, Michael. How can you dismiss that?”
Russ could hear the tears in her voice, the mixture of anger and anguish that only made him want to rip Michael apart even more. Hillary’s grip on his arm tightened again, and he turned to look at her, her jaw set and her eyes blazing.
“Let her finish,” she whispered, her voice low and taut.
Upstairs, the static crackled again before Michael’s voice returned, sharper and more defensive. “Because it’s necessary, Claire. You think the great minds of history played it safe? You think penicillin, open-heart surgery, or the damn polio vaccine didn’t come with casualties along the way? This is the price of being a pioneer.”
“You’re right,” she said softly, and the strength of her voice seemed to be fading. “You’re absolutely right. The price of progress—it’s necessary. But... what happens if someone starts asking questions? What if someone digs deeper into the data?”
Michael let out a short laugh, sharp and derisive. “They won’t,” he said confidently. “Do you have any idea how much power we wield? The advisory board is corrupt, yes, but they’re also in our pocket. Everyone involved benefits from what we’re doing—pharmaceutical companies, hospitals, even the government. They won’t risk upsetting the balance.”
“But what about the patients’ families? The ones who’ve been... affected. What if they start digging? We can’t control them.”
Michael’s voice dropped lower, a chilling edge creeping into his tone. “That’s where you come in, Claire. You’ve always been good at... smoothing things over. Writing reports that make it all look clean, convincing the right people that everything is under control. That’s why I need you. That’s why you’re so valuable to this project.”
Russ felt his heart pounding in his chest, the thin thread of restraint he’d been clinging to unraveling rapidly. He wanted to storm upstairs and put an end to this charade, but Hillary’s hand on his arm kept him anchored. Her knuckles were white, her grip as tense as his.
Claire hesitated. “And if I can’t? If it gets too big to contain?”
Michael scoffed again, the sound bitter and dismissive. “You think I don’t have contingency plans? I’ve dealt with bigger problems than a grieving family or a nosy journalist. They can be bought off, silenced, discredited. Whatever it takes to protect the work.”
“Silenced?” Claire repeated, her voice catching. “What do you mean by that?”
“You know what I mean,” Michael said, his tone icy. “If someone becomes a threat, they’re dealt with. It’s that simple. I don’t expect you to get your hands dirty, Claire, but don’t pretend you’re na?ve enough not to know how these things work.”
The room below erupted in murmurs, the shocked voices of the guests rising despite their attempts to keep quiet. Russ’s body tensed further, his fists clenching and unclenching as he stared at the intercom.
“I’m just trying to process all of this,” Claire said. “You thought I was turning on you by coming up here. Did you ever think of dealing with me? Silencing me? Was I in the crosshairs?”
Michael laughed. “Do you think that barn burst into flames on its own? Come on, you had to at least consider the fact that there was some connection.”
Claire’s voice came through again, quieter now but laced with determination. “I didn’t even consider it,” she lied. “I guess that’s where I fall short. Michael, you’ve always been the one with the vision. I just... I want to make sure I’m doing my part. That I’m helping you. What’s the next step? How do we protect everything we’ve built?”
Michael’s sigh was audible through the intercom, followed by a creak of floorboards as he paced. “The next step is making sure we stay ahead of everyone else. We control the narrative, keep the data clean, and eliminate any risks. That’s why you need to stop second-guessing me, Claire. If you’re not fully committed, you’re a liability. And I don’t keep liabilities around.”
The threat in his words was unmistakable, and the tension in the room below reached a breaking point. Russ surged forward, breaking free of Hillary’s grip, but she stepped in front of him, her eyes fierce.
“Not yet,” she hissed. “She’s so close. Don’t blow this.”
Russ gritted his teeth, his body trembling with the effort it took to hold himself back. He could hear Claire’s voice again, quieter now, almost a whisper.
“I understand,” she said. “I just need to know you trust me, Michael. That we’re in this together.”
Michael’s tone softened slightly, but it was still condescending. “Of course I trust you, Claire. I wouldn’t have brought you this far if I didn’t. But you need to stop doubting me. Stop doubting us. We’re making history here. And history isn’t made without sacrifices. Now, we’re finally alone in this dusty museum of a house. How about you show me how loyal you are to me. How about you show me how much you’re willing to submit.”
Russ couldn’t take it anymore. “We have enough,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m going up there.”
Hillary didn’t stop him this time. Instead, she nodded, her expression grim. “Be careful,” she whispered.
Russ didn’t need to be told twice. He turned and strode toward the stairs, his footsteps heavy and purposeful as the voices from the intercom continued to echo in his ears.
What he didn’t expect was a crowd of people flooding in behind him. He’d thought he’d make his way up to the library and confront Michael, man to man. Now there seemed to be at least twenty people behind him clamoring to be a part of this confrontation.
When they reached the library, he tried to open the door but it was locked. The only key was inside with Claire and Michael. Russ banged on the door, demanding they open it. There was only silence on the other side. Terrifying silence.