Still you, still me still falling

Chapter 3: Terms of Investment

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Sheila slept for less than two hours.

By six in the morning, she was already inside Preston Research Institute, standing beneath the white glare of the laboratory lights with her hair twisted into a careless knot and a cup of coffee cooling untouched beside her.

The lab had always been the one place where her thoughts obeyed her.

Circuits did not lie. Data did not pretend indifference. A failed test could be repeated until the reason revealed itself.

People were far less merciful.

"You are recalibrating a sensor that passed yesterday," York said from the doorway.

Sheila did not look up. "I'm checking for drift."

"At six fifteen in the morning?"

"Drift doesn't keep office hours."

York stepped inside and set a folder beside her coffee. His silver-streaked hair was still damp from a hurried shower, and worry had carved deeper lines around his eyes.

"Simon told me what happened last night."

Her fingers paused over the control panel. "He talks too much."

"He required three stitches. I think he earned the right to complain."

Guilt pressed heavily beneath her ribs. "I told him to get examined."

"That isn't what concerns me." York folded his arms. "Edmond Halley concerns me."

Sheila finally faced him. "He has nothing to do with the institute."

York's expression made her uneasy.

"What?" she asked.

He opened the folder.

Inside was a formal investment proposal stamped with the Halley Group crest.

Sheila stared at it as if it were an explosive device.

"No."

"You haven't read it."

"I don't need to."

"They are offering enough to fund the project through commercial trials."

"Then refuse it."

York's patience thinned. "This is not a personal decision."

"It becomes personal when the money belongs to him."

"The institute has nine weeks of operating capital left."

The words struck harder than she expected.

York continued quietly, "If we fail to secure funding, I will have to release most of the staff by the end of the quarter. The prototype will be dismantled, and three years of work will disappear into storage."

Sheila looked through the glass wall toward the main laboratory. Technicians moved between stations, unaware that their futures were being discussed only a few feet away.

She had known the finances were strained. She had not known they were this close to collapse.

"There were other investors at dinner," she said.

"Two withdrew this morning after hearing that Simon was involved in a public fight. Another wants controlling rights to every patent we produce for the next decade."

"And Halley Group wants nothing?"

"They want an exclusive review period and a seat on the oversight committee."

Sheila laughed without humor. "So Edmond wants a front-row seat to my life."

"The proposal was signed by the corporate development director, not Edmond."

"Nothing happens in that family without his approval."

York closed the folder. "I am not asking you to forgive him. I am asking you to attend one meeting."

"No."

"Sheila."

"You don't understand."

York's face softened. "Then help me understand."

She could not.

Three years ago, York had been in intensive care after a laboratory accident. While he fought to survive, a woman Sheila had never met had arrived at the hospital carrying evidence of patent violations, funding irregularities, and enough political influence to close the institute permanently.

The woman had introduced herself as Eleanor Halley.

Edmond's mother.

Sheila had been given a choice disguised as advice: end the relationship immediately, or watch York lose everything he had built.

She had asked whether Edmond knew.

Eleanor had smiled and said, "My son is allowed to make mistakes. He is not allowed to marry them."

Sheila had believed the threat because every document had been real.

What she had never learned was whether Eleanor acted alone.

"The meeting is at ten," York said. "You do not have to decide today. Just listen."

Sheila stared at the folder for a long moment.

"One meeting," she said at last. "And you handle all communication afterward."

York's relief was immediate. "Agreed."

At precisely ten, three black vehicles stopped outside the institute.

Sheila watched from the conference room as Edmond stepped out of the middle car.

Of course he had come himself.

He wore a charcoal suit, the severe lines of it sharpening the authority he carried without effort. A pale bandage covered his right hand. Thurston emerged behind him, followed by two executives carrying tablets and leather portfolios.

"This is unnecessary," Sheila muttered.

York adjusted his tie. "For twenty million dollars, they can arrive on horseback if they want."

The conference-room door opened.

Edmond's gaze found Sheila immediately.

Nothing in his face acknowledged the previous night.

"Professor Preston," he said, extending his uninjured hand. "Thank you for meeting with us."

His professionalism was flawless. That somehow irritated Sheila more than open hostility would have.

Introductions were made. Documents were distributed. The corporate development director began outlining the proposal while slides appeared on the wall.

Sheila forced herself to listen.

The terms were unexpectedly fair. Halley Group would provide staged funding, manufacturing support, and access to specialized fabrication facilities. Preston Research Institute would retain ownership of its existing patents and a majority share in future applications.

There had to be a trap.

"What does Halley Group gain?" Sheila asked.

The director glanced toward Edmond.

He answered without looking away from her. "First negotiation rights for commercial licensing."

"That's all?"

"Is that not enough?"

"Not for you."

Thurston shifted in his chair, visibly offended, but Edmond remained calm.

"You believe I built an international company by making emotional investments?"

"I believe you rarely do anything without a reason."

"Then perhaps your technology is valuable."

"You knew nothing about it yesterday."

"I knew enough by midnight."

Sheila's fingers tightened around her pen. "You investigated us."

"I performed due diligence."

"In a few hours?"

"My staff is efficient."

York cleared his throat before their exchange could become openly hostile. "Perhaps we should discuss oversight."

The director advanced to the next slide.

A five-person committee would supervise milestones and release funds. Two seats belonged to Halley Group, two to the institute, and one to an independent scientific adviser.

Then the names appeared.

Edmond Halley was listed as committee chair.

Sheila's chair scraped against the floor as she stood.

"Absolutely not."

York looked alarmed. "Sheila—"

"He does not need to chair the committee."

Edmond leaned back. "The investment is mine."

"The research is ours."

"Which is why you retain two seats."

"Choose another representative."

"No."

The quiet certainty in his answer made anger flare through her.

"Then the meeting is over."

She gathered her notes, but York caught her wrist gently.

"Sit down," he murmured. "Please."

Sheila looked at her mentor's tired face and remembered nine weeks of operating capital.

Slowly, she returned to her chair.

Edmond had watched the entire exchange. Something unreadable passed through his eyes.

"There is one condition I am willing to change," he said.

The director looked surprised. "Mr. Halley?"

"Dr. Jensen will have final authority over scientific methodology. The committee may review expenditures and milestones, but no one may alter the research design without her written consent."

Sheila stared at him.

That protection had not existed in the original proposal.

York sat straighter. "That would be acceptable."

"It would be essential," Edmond replied.

Sheila could not decide whether the concession was kindness or strategy. With Edmond, the two had always been dangerously difficult to separate.

The meeting ended an hour later with an agreement to draft final contracts.

As the others filed out, Sheila remained behind to collect the scattered papers.

Edmond stayed too.

"You engineered this," she said.

"I approved a profitable investment."

"You want access to me."

His expression did not change. "You overestimate your importance."