Chapter 193
Chapter 193:
“Are the men from Hell’s Kitchen in position for tomorrow night?” she said quietly. “And make sure our contact on the cleaning crew watches the lab floor today. I want to know every move she makes.” She paused. “Tomorrow night, I want her completely ruined p>
The bright fluorescent lights of the Apex Bio pantry hummed softly. It was four hours before the celebration gala.
Abbie stood in the center of the breakroom, her back carefully angled toward the security camera mounted in the corner.
On the counter directly in front of her sat June’s personal coffee mug — the one printed with a complex chemical equation — filled with her daily afternoon cold brew. The ice cubes clinked quietly against the ceramic. Abbie’s hands trembled against the counter’s edge.
у𝗈𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝗂ly 𝗱оѕ𝘦 о𝗳 𝘯о𝘷𝘦𝘭s 𝘰𝗇
Her right hand was buried in the pocket of her lab coat, fingers locked in a death grip around the cold glass vial. Her palm was slick with sweat.
Her mind ran in a relentless loop — Alycia’s threats, her mother’s fragile face in the nursing home, the photographs.
Abbie drew a slow, unsteady breath. She pulled the vial from her pocket and unscrewed the tiny black cap. The clear liquid shifted near the rim. Just a few drops. That was all it would take to send June into a living nightmare.
She tilted the vial over the dark coffee.
The first drop gathered at the edge of the glass.
The pantry door swung open.
Abbie’s heart slammed against her ribs. She crushed the vial into her palm and spun around, pressing her back hard against the counter.
June walked in, leaning on her crutches, a thick manila folder tucked under her arm.
“Abbie, there you are,” she said. Her tone was professional, though it lacked its usual precision.
Abbie’s face was the color of chalk. Her voice refused to work.
“Dr. Erickson,” she managed, her words coming out in a trembling stutter. “Did you need your coffee? I was just preparing it p>
June shook her head and held out the folder.
Abbie didn’t reach for it, terrified of dropping the vial hidden in her other hand.
“What is this?” she asked.
“The special bonus application for the core members of the second-generation drug project,” June said. “I already signed it. I approved you for the maximum tier p>
Abbie looked down at the figure printed at the top of the page.
The number was staggering. More than enough to cover her mother’s nursing home fees for the next three years.
“You… why would you…” Her throat closed entirely.
“You mentioned yesterday that you were struggling with medical bills,” June said, looking directly at her. “I refuse to let my best assistant compromise her career because of financial stress p>
She didn’t frame it as charity. She framed it as a bonus — calculated to protect Abbie’s dignity entirely.
The weight of that single act of kindness hit Abbie like a physical blow and demolished the last wall standing inside her.
Alycia had called her trash from the slums. This woman — one of the most formidable minds in the country — was looking at her with nothing but respect.
Abbie’s vision blurred. The tears came without warning, pouring freely down her face.