I don’t care what Bennett says. This project was mine at the start, and I’ll see it through to the end—even if I have to kick the doors off their hinges.
CHAPTER 4
Audrey
It’s not even seven when I arrive at Carmichael Innovations. The lobby is quiet. Just the security guard, who does a double-take when he sees me—probably doesn’t recognize me with the hair and no glasses—and the soft hum of a building that hasn’t woken up yet. I badge through the turnstile and head for the elevators, my heels clicking against the marble in a rhythm that feels like a countdown.
I know no one expects me this early. Probability of running into anyone before 7:30: low. That’s the point. After years of being the first one in and the last to leave, the muscle memory kicks in. Plus, I need these first precious hours—before the meetings, the deliverables, the casual ‘hey, didn’t expect to see you!’s—to wrap my head around the damage.
On the elevator up, I catch my reflection in the mirrored doors and look away. I already know what I look like: Stockholm dress, three-inch wedge heels, makeup that took forty-five minutes, blonde hair straightened into submission.
I look like someone who has her shit together. Someone who definitely isn’t running on caffeine and spite.
That’s the goal, anyway. Fake it till everyone stops asking if I’m OK.
The hall is empty when I step off the elevator. I have at least an hour before anyone else arrives, which is exactly what I wanted. Time to review the CRL. Time to get my head in the game. Time to be Dr. Audrey Greene, biomedical engineer. The one who solves problems and figures things out.
The entire office is quiet as I settle into my old desk—someone’s been using it while I was gone, I can tell by the reorganized supplies and the unfamiliar coffee mug—and pull up my email.
Taking a breath, I click on the FDA thread and start reading.
By the time Robert Carmichael arrives at 8:15, I’ve read the Complete Response Letter three times and made six pages of notes. The deficiencies are significant but not insurmountable. Signal interference in high-density neural environments—fixable with recalibration of the frequency modulation. Biocompatibility concerns—we need more long-term data, which means accelerated testing protocols. Data security—that one’s trickier, but not impossible.
We can do this. The timeline is tight, but it’s doable.
Robert stops short when he sees me at my desk. He’s a solid man, silver-haired, with the kind of permanent frown that suggests he’s never been satisfied with anything in his life.
Including, historically, me.
“Audrey.” He blinks. “You’re... here.”
“I’m here.”
“Bennett said you might come in sooner, but I didn’t expect—” He stops, recalibrates. “You look different.”
“Sweden,” I say, as if that explains anything.
“Right.” He clears his throat. “Well. Welcome back. The team will be glad to have you.”
It’s the most positive thing Robert Carmichael has ever said to me. That’s how I know things are bad.
“The CRL,” I start, holding up my notes. “I’ve been reviewing the deficiencies. I have some initial thoughts on the signal interference issue?—”
“Save it for the meeting.” He checks his watch. “Conference room B, nine o’clock. Full team briefing.”
“Full team?”
“Everyone involved,” he confirms, turning toward his office. “Nine o’clock. Don’t be late.”
I watch him go, something uneasy settling in my stomach.
Everyone involved.
Logan was involved. He’s Mercer’s tech specialist.
That means he’ll be there.
Right?
