Chapter 9
Chapter 9:
“Coffee,” Arland said, steering her toward the cafe. “My treat. Since you just insulted my lead engineer’s work in three seconds p>
Isolde sat in the corner booth. She felt exposed.
“So,” Arland said, leaning back. “The great Valkyrie. Hiding in plain sight as… what? A Lancaster trophy wife p>
“Ex-wife,” Isolde corrected.
Arland slammed his hand on the table. “Finally! I hated that man. He looks like he was manufactured in a boardroom p>
Isolde couldn’t help but smile. “He basically was p>
Arland slid the schematic back to her. He pulled a pen from his pocket.
“Prove it,” he said. “Prove you’re still her p>
𝘑oi𝗻 𝘵𝗵𝖾 𝗰𝗈𝘮𝗆𝘂n𝘪𝘁у 𝘢𝘵.с𝗼m
Isolde looked at the paper. Her fingers itched. It had been so long since she had solved a problem that wasn’t about a dinner menu or a stain on a rug.
She took the pen.
The world narrowed down to lines and vectors. Her hand moved with a speed and precision that made Arland’s eyes widen. She crossed out the intake valve. She redrew the compression chamber geometry. She added a bypass duct.
Five minutes later, she capped the pen.
“There,” she said. “Now it won’t explode p>
Arland stared at the drawing. He traced the lines with his finger. He let out a low whistle.
“You just saved me six months of R&D,” he murmured. “And about ten million dollars p>
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a checkbook.
He wrote quickly. He tore the check out and slid it across the table.
Isolde looked at it. $50,000.
“Consulting fee,” Arland said.
Isolde stared. Her hands shook. This was more money than she had seen in her own name in five years. “Arland, I can’t p>
“Take it,” he ordered. “I’m serious. And I want to offer you a job. A ghost position. Shadow Director of Advanced Projects. No one needs to know your name. But I need your brain p>
He leaned in closer.
“You know SkyLine is presenting at the Aerospace Expo next month p>
Isolde stiffened. SkyLine. Grayson’s company.
“Belle Escobar is presenting their new flagship jet,” Arland said. “The Phoenix-X7 p>
Isolde felt the blood drain from her face.
“The Phoenix,” she whispered. “That was my design. My prototype. I left the files on my server when I married Grayson p>
“They’re claiming Belle designed it,” Arland said grimly. “They’re calling her the new face of aviation p>
Isolde’s hand curled into a fist on the table.
They stole it. They stole her work. Her legacy. And they gave it to the woman who stole her husband.
She looked at the check. Then she looked at Arland.
“I’m in,” she said.
Arland grinned. “I thought you might be. Publicly accusing them of theft now is just mudslinging without the original source code. But if you, the creator, unveil something better at the expo… that’s not just a scandal, it’s a public execution. I’ll get you on that stage, Valkyrie. In return, your next design belongs to me p>
Isolde took the check. She pulled out her phone and deposited it via the banking app immediately.