Chapter 3

"Stardust One? Chief Engineer?" Both Alexander and Margaret looked like they'd heard the most ridiculous thing ever, their faces full of absurdity and disbelief.

Margaret was the first to shriek, "Who the hell are you? Are you some scam artists running a pyramid scheme? Chief Engineer? Her?

"An orphan who couldn't finish college? What could she possibly know about anything? You must have got the wrong person."

Alexander snapped out of it, stepping forward to block me from Charles, putting on his best Mr. Ford attitude. "I don't care who you are. Get out of my house, now. Renee is my wife. She's staying right here."

One of the young men behind Charles stepped forward, expressionless, showing his ID card. "We're from Department of National Security, and we're carrying out a classified mission. Mr. Ford, please cooperate.

"Anyone who tries to block or interfere with getting a top scientist back to their post counts as endangering national security."

"Department of National Security?" Alexander muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His face went from flushed to ghostly pale in an instant.

Even if he was an idiot, he knew the weight those words carried.

Margaret's ranting cut off abruptly. She clapped a hand over her mouth in horror, staring at the cold-faced men in black, her legs turning to jelly.

They were finally silenced.

I stepped around the shell-shocked Alexander and walked over to Charles. "Charles, let's go."

"Alright," Charles replied with a satisfied nod, personally opening the door to the car for me.

As I got in, Alexander snapped out of it and rushed over, banging on the window, frantic and desperate. "Renee, tell me what's going on. What is all this? You can't leave. You're my wife."

The window slowly rolled up, shutting out his hysterical yelling.

I couldn't be bothered to look at him.

The car smoothly pulled away, leaving behind the gilded cage I'd been trapped in for thirteen years.

In the rearview mirror, Alexander and Margaret shrank away until they were nothing but two pathetic little specks.

I leaned back in the plush seat, and for the first time in over a decade, the tension that had been coiled inside me finally began to unwind.

Goodbye, Alexander.

You could enjoy your real love this time around.

The car pulled into a place you wouldn't find on any map.

The security was intense, and guards were posted every few steps, the air thick with tension and discipline.

This was the Ninth Institute of the National Academy of Science, the most elite research facility in Clusialand. It was secret base devoted to future technology.

Charles led me into a vast, almost empty lab. The only thing inside was a gigantic whiteboard. It was so tall and wide that it dominated the entire room.

He said, "Renee, I know what you sent over was a theoretical summary.

"Whatever you need, people, equipment, materials, the nation will provide, no matter what.

"I only have one question."

Charles looked at me, his gaze blazing like a fire. "How long until Stardust One becomes reality?"

I grabbed a marker and strode over to the giant whiteboard. Turning around, I locked eyes with Charles and with every top scientist in the room.

"Proof of concept? Three days. Prototype in the lab? One month. Ready for mass production? One year." As soon as I finished, the whole lab went dead silent.

Everyone stared at me like I'd lost my mind.

Room-temperature superconductors were the holy grail of physics, something the entire scientific community had been chasing for decades without success.

And I was saying I could have it ready for mass production in one year.

Charles took a deep breath, breaking the silence. "Alright. Everyone, listen up. From this moment forward, the Ninth Institute is at maximum readiness.

"Whatever Ms. Wells needs, you cooperate with her. No exceptions."

"Yes, sir." The reply was deafening, every voice perfectly synchronized.

I turned to face the massive whiteboard, and all those formulas and data buried in my mind for thirty years surged out like a flood breaking through a dam.

My marker flew across the board as I began writing at breakneck speed.

While I was lost in the world of research, Charles's secretary had managed to get my phone working again.

When I turned it on, a news alert popped up: [Breaking News: Early this morning, a woman fell to her death from the Ford Group headquarters. Sources say she was Alexander's friend.]

Beneath the article was a photo of Lily, her face ghostly pale, wearing that innocent look she always had.

I stared at the photo, an icy smile curling at my lips.

The games began, Alexander.