No. I’m being paranoid. Someone would have mentioned it at dinner last night, surely. They’d want me prepared. Mercer has an entire technology division. There are dozens of people who could be embedded on this project. It doesn’t have to be?—
“There’s a full stakeholder meeting tomorrow morning. Landon James, Robert, the whole response team. It’s going to be intense.”
Oh shit.
Bennett’s words from last night. Theydidtell me—in a roundabout way. And that’s probably exactly why they were so insistent I stay home.
I shake the thought away before it can settle.
It doesn’t matter who it is. I’m here to do a job. I’m here to save my project. Everything else is irrelevant.
I spend the next forty-five minutes reviewing my notes, adding questions, preparing myself for the meeting. By 8:55, I’m ready. Walls up. Expression set to ‘competent professional who definitely doesn’t care.’
I walk into Conference Room B at exactly 8:58.
Bennett is mid-conversation with Landon James, but he stops when he sees me. His expression cycles through surprise, confusion, and something like resignation.
“Audrey.” He stands. “I wasn’t aware you were coming in today.”
Layla, seated beside him, jumps up quickly and gives his arm a subtle nudge. “We’re so glad you felt up to it, though. How’s the jet lag?”
“Yes.” Bennett recovers quickly, smoothing into a smile. “Howisthe jet lag?”
I take a seat across from Layla, who looks at me in an apologetic way. I offer back a slight shrug, because whatever. I’m already onto this misguided protection racket they’ve got going on.
Before I can finish pulling out my notes, Robert clears his throat.
“Let’s get started. As you all know, we received a Complete Response Letter from the FDA regarding the NeuraTech submission. The letter identifies three major deficiencies that must be addressed before approval can proceed.”
He clicks a remote, and the screen behind him lights up with a bulleted list that he reads out.
It’s everything I already know from the CRL, but hearing it laid out in Robert’s flat, clinical voice makes it feel more real. More urgent.
“Including today, we have eighty-three days to submit a complete response,” Robert continues. “If we miss that window, the application is considered withdrawn, and we start over from scratch. That’s not an option.”
“What’s the plan?” I ask.
Robert looks at Bennett. Bennett looks at Landon. Landon looks back at Robert.
No one looks at me.
“We’ve assembled a joint response team,” Bennett says finally. “Carmichael is handling the biocompatibility studies—accelerated testing protocols, additional data collection. JamesTech is providing resources for the hardware modifications needed to address the signal interference.”
“And Mercer?” I ask.
“Mercer is contributing technical expertise for the data security overhaul.” Bennett’s voice is careful. Too careful. “We need our absolute best on this. So we’re embedding a specialist who will be working directly with your team for the duration of the response period.”
Get to the point, Bennett!
“Who?” I snap, just as the conference room door opens.
I don’t have to turn around. I know who it is. I feel it—a shift in the air, a prickle at the back of my neck. That specific frequency of awareness that only one person has ever triggered.
“Sorry I’m late.” His voice. Low and careful and exactly the same as I remember. “The traffic from?—”
He stops.
I turn.
