“A lot going on with what?”
Another look. This one involves Caleb and Serena too, a four-way glance that makes me feel like I’m missing something obvious.
“What?” I repeat, more insistent this time. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about right now,” Bennett says. “You just got back. Let yourself settle in before you?—”
“Bennett.” I put down my wineglass. “What’s going on?”
Layla sighs. “It’s NeuraTech.”
My stomach drops. “What about NeuraTech?”
“Layla,” Bennett says, a warning in his voice.
“She’s going to find out, anyway. And she’ll be more upset if we hide it.” Layla turns to me, her expression apologetic. “There was an FDA issue. A Complete Response Letter. The approval is on hold.”
The words feel like a glass of ice water to my face.
NeuraTech. My project. The neural interface system I spent years developing before I left. The technology I poured my heart and soul into. The device that could change millions of lives. The thing I was most proud of in my entire career.
On hold.
“What kind of deficiencies?” My voice comes out clinical. Detached.
“Signal interference in high-density neural environments. Some biocompatibility concerns with long-term use. And the data security protocols didn’t meet the new FDA requirements for medical-grade devices.” Bennett’s tone is careful, measured. “We’re working on it. The team is working on it.”
“What team?”
“Our team—a joint effort between Carmichael, JamesTech, and Mercer. The best we have. It’s under control.”
“Under control.” I repeat the words like they’re in a foreign language. “The FDA sent a Complete Response Letter—which means they found significant deficiencies in the submission—and it’s ‘under control’?”
“Audrey—”
“How long do we have?”
Bennett hesitates. “Ninety days from the date of the letter.”
“Which was when?”
“About a week ago.”
A week. One hundred sixty-eight hours of my project falling apart, and no one told me. I was in Sweden, eating meatballs and pretending I was fine, while everything I built was crumbling.
“Why didn’t anyone call me?”
The question comes out calm. But underneath is the creeping suspicion that they didn’t call because they didn’t think I could handle it. Or worse—because they didn’t need me. The team was doing fine without me. I’m not as essential as I’d always told myself I was.
“You were on fellowship. You needed the space.” Layla reaches across the table, but I pull back before she can touch me. “Audrey, this isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known?—”
“It’s my project.” My stomach twists in knots. “My design. My protocols. If there are deficiencies, they’re deficiencies Ishould have caught before I left. Deficiencies Iwouldhave caught if I hadn’t?—”
I stop. If I hadn’t run away. If I hadn’t let a man’s rejection send me fleeing to another continent. If I’d been stronger, braver, less pathetic.
This is what I do. I figure things out. I solve problems. And I wasn’t here to do it. I let my broken heart override my brain, and while I was gone, everything fell apart.
“Audrey.” Bennett’s voice is firm. “FDA requirements changed after you submitted. The signal interference issue was edge-case testing that wasn’t in the original protocol. None of this is your fault.”
