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I shake my head, trying to focus on the task at hand.
Anna Kim’s office is a testament to practical efficiency. The CEO of LumiVera rises to greet me, her handshake firm and businesslike. “Mr. Valeur, thank you for coming. I hope you found us without difficulty?”
“Thank you, Dr. Kim,” I reply, taking the offered seat. “Your facility is quite...focused.”
A flicker of something—pride mixed with defensiveness—crosses her face. “We believe in putting our resources where they matter most. Our research.”
I nod, getting down to business. “Speaking of which, Iunderstand you’ve made significant breakthroughs in spectroscopy technology. The ASTRA project, specifically.”
“Indeed.” Kim leans forward, her eyes lighting up. “We’ve adapted astronomical spectroscopy techniques for medical applications. The device can detect cellular abnormalities before they’re visible through conventional methods. Early disease detection without invasive procedures.” She pauses. “If we could integrate it with Valeur Tech’s existing medical imaging devices...”
“The possibilities are intriguing,” I agree. Our medical division has been searching for exactly this kind of breakthrough. Early cancer detection could save countless lives—and establish Valeur Tech as a pioneer in preventive medicine. “But why approach us for partnership? Surely, there are other companies that would jump at this opportunity.”
Kim’s smile tightens almost imperceptibly. “We value quality over quantity, Mr. Valeur. Your company’s reputation for innovation aligns well with our goals. And frankly, the resources you could bring to the table would accelerate our research significantly.”
I lean back, studying her. The unspoken truth hangs between us. LumiVera needs this deal more than they’re letting on.
“I see. And what are you proposing?”
For the next half hour, we dive into the details of a potential deal. Kim is sharp, countering my every point with well-reasoned arguments. But beneath her polished exterior, I sense an undercurrent of urgency.
As we tour the labs, Dr. Kim’s enthusiastic explanations fade into background noise. My eyes dart from one clutteredworkstation to another, taking in the controlled chaos of research constrained by budget limitations.
“And here we have our spectroscopy division,” Dr. Kim announces with pride, sweeping an arm toward the lab.
I take in the scene—cluttered workbenches crowded with equipment, wires snaking across the floor, and, bizarrely, a half-eaten sandwich perched dangerously close to what I assume is a very expensive spectrometer. The words “organized anarchy” flicker through my mind, but I keep my expression neutral.
“Impressive,” I say, nodding. “It’s clear you’ve maximized the space.”
Dr. Kim beams, clearly unfazed by the chaos. “We pride ourselves on creative resource allocation, Mr. Valeur.”
“Right.” I sidestep a bundle of cables and glance at a leaning tower of research papers that looks one breath away from collapse.
I study the cluttered workstations with new eyes. LumiVera's financial struggles are evident, but their potential is undeniable. This collaboration could be their lifeline—and exactly what Valeur Tech needs to revolutionize medical diagnostics. I'll have to oversee the project personally. With stakes this high, we can't afford any mistakes.
Last night’s conversation with my brothers floods back unbidden. The revelation about our mother, the cover-up. My stomach churns. My fingers fumble with my tie, loosening it as if that could ease the suffocating weight in my chest. The world tilts, edges blurring, and for a moment, I’m that scared little boy again.
For the first time, there’s no clear path forward, noproblem I can solve with money or influence. I’m lost in the dark, fumbling for a light switch that isn’t there.
I’m jolted back to the present as we enter another lab. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a harsh glow on the cluttered workstations. Whiteboards covered in incomprehensible equations line the walls, and the soft beeping of various machines creates a symphony of scientific progress.
A woman stands before a complex apparatus, her back to us. Wild chestnut curls spill down her lab coat, defying the haphazard ponytail that attempts to tame them. Her shoulders are hunched in concentration, fingers dancing over controls with practiced precision, her movements suggesting an intimate familiarity with the equipment that speaks of countless hours spent in this lab.
Dr. Kim clears her throat. “Dr. James?”
The woman turns, her gaze fixed on a tablet in her hands, reviewing what appears to be a complex array of spectral data. She glances up, and I freeze.
Recognition hits me like a physical blow. “It’s you.”
Aleria James stands there, staring back at me, her hazel eyes a touch darker than I remember but still sharp and piercing. There’s a flicker of emotion—too quick to read—before her face smooths into a mask of professional calm.
Gone is the shy undergraduate who used to clutch her physics textbook like a shield in our Advanced Linear Algebra class. Now stands a woman who carries herself with quiet confidence. Her features have matured, her cheekbones more pronounced, giving her an elegance that takes my breath away. Her gaze flicks to the small scar near my left eyebrow, a souvenir from my reckless post-college years, before returning to meet my eyes.
Dr. Kim glances between us, eyebrows raised. “You two know each other?”
I nod, memories flooding back unbidden. Stolen moments in empty lecture halls, her back pressed against the wall, my hands tangled in her hair. The way she looked at me, eyes full of something I didn’t deserve. The warmth of her body, pressed against mine in the dark, her breath soft on my neck.
I realize I've been staring and clear my throat. “We had a class together at Stanford.”
