Chapter 100
Chapter 100:
She spotted the flaw in their approach immediately. They were using a brute-force computational method — reliable, but brutally inefficient. Her mind raced, connecting disparate fields of mathematics. She wasn’t solving their problem; she was building a new tool to make the problem obsolete. She found a redundancy in the fuel consumption algorithm and rewrote the code block in real time.
Three hours.
Isolde hit the Enter key with a decisive snap.
The simulation on the main screen whirred to life. The satellite’s path corrected itself, red warning lines shifting to a steady, soothing green. Fuel efficiency climbed by fourteen percent.
Isolde spun her chair around.
“Done,” she said.
The entire bullpen of engineers stared.
Claire walked over, her mouth slightly open. She looked at the timestamp. “That’s impossible. How did you run the regression so fast with one hand p>
“I didn’t need to,” Isolde said, standing and stretching her stiff back. “The Euler method is too slow for this variable. I used a voice-activated script to apply a modified Runge-Kutta fourth-order method. It’s more elegant. Less work, better results p>
I𝘯s𝗍a𝗻𝘁 а𝗰сe𝘴s 𝗈𝗇
Claire looked at the screen, then at Isolde. The skepticism in her eyes dissolved, replaced by something closer to grudging respect.
“I…” Claire swallowed. “I’m sorry. I thought you were just… Arland’s friend p>
“I am Arland’s friend,” Isolde said. “But I’m also Sophia p>
“Sophia?” Claire frowned.
“Never mind,” Isolde said. “Just don’t give me busy work again, Claire. My time is expensive p>
“Understood,” Claire said.
Isolde felt a quiet rush of triumph. This was who she was. Not a victim. Not a wife. An engineer.
Her phone rang — shrill in the quiet office. Not Grayson. A local number.
“Isolde Carson,” she answered.
“Mrs. Lancaster?” A woman’s voice, breathless and panicked. “This is Principal Meyers from St. Jude’s p>
Isolde’s blood ran cold. “What happened p>
“It’s Kaiden,” the principal said. “There’s been a serious incident. He brought a device to school. A drone. An industrial one p>
“A drone?” Isolde’s hand tightened on the edge of the desk.
“He lost control of it. He hurt another student. The police are on their way and the parents are pressing charges. You need to come. Now p>
Isolde hung up.
“Is everything okay?” Claire asked.
“No,” Isolde said, grabbing her bag. “The boy I raised. He’s in trouble p>
“Do you need cover p>
“Just tell Arland I had to go,” Isolde said, already running for the door.
She sprinted to the elevator. A drone. Grayson had bought him that DJI Matrice last week. Isolde had told him it was too dangerous. She had told him the carbon fiber blades were like knives.
He hadn’t listened. He never listened.
And now a child was hurt.
The scene at St. Jude’s was chaos.
A police cruiser sat on the front lawn, its lights flashing. An ambulance idled near the playground gate.
Isolde slammed her car door and ran toward the cluster of adults gathered near the swing set.
She saw Kaiden first. He was standing near the fence, gripping a massive black remote controller. He wasn’t crying. He looked defiant — chin jutting, eyes wild.
Belle was there, of course, talking to a police officer and waving her hands.
“It’s just a toy!” Belle said, her voice high and shrill. “He’s six years old! You can’t arrest a six-year-old p>