Finn glanced at Elena. Her expression remained calm, almost serene, as she maintained direct eye contact with David. Finn had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at how unaffected she appeared.
"Furthermore," David continued, clearly savoring this, "I haven't even touched on the accelerated pace of your research. I'm certain if I looked more deeply into your methodology, I'd find corners were cut to meet your timeline."
Finn's jaw clenched. The irony was almost too ridiculous to believe. David Turner questioning their timeline when he himself had enforced the impossible deadline.
David settled back in his chair, satisfaction radiating from his posture. He'd delivered what he clearly believed was a fatal blow. "Would you care to address my concerns?"
Elena's expression didn't change. She turned to Finn, her gaze cold and sharp as ice. She spoke words only Finn could hear.
"Do it.”
Chapter Thirty
ELENA
Elena settled into her chair, forcing herself to breathe normally as she watched Finn rise from his seat. Inside, she was seething. She had carefully kept her composure cool through every condescending word from David. And it had taken every ounce of self-control not to lunge across the table and wipe that smug expression off his face. Her hands trembled as she set down her presentation materials, and she had to press them flat against the table to still them.
But beneath her anger was something else. They'd spent all week preparing for this exact moment, playfully calling it "Plan B" like it was some kind of heist.What we do when David inevitably tries to destroy us, Finn had said with that dry humor she'd come to love. And now here they were, David having played perfectly into their hands.
She looked up at Finn as he took the lead on the presentation. His expression had transformed into something sherecognized immediately. It was the polite, empty smile of a customer service representative who'd spent years dealing with entitled assholes.
"If you don't mind, David," Finn said, his voice carrying that same artificially pleasant tone, "I've prepared some supplementary slides that I feel may address your concerns."
Elena watched him with quiet admiration. She wasn’t his supervisor anymore. They were partners in every sense of the word. And he had earned this moment just as much as she had.
"I'd like to present a case study," he began, his voice clear. "Patient X."
Elena watched the board members' faces, cataloging their expressions. Most showed polite interest, the standard response to what appeared to be a typical patient presentation. David had settled back into his chair, fingers drumming impatiently against the armrest. He clearly saw this as a waste of everyone’s time.
"Patient X suffered a severe traumatic brain injury in a car accident," Finn continued as medical images appeared on the screen. The brain scans showed extensive damage to frontal and temporal lobes. "He enrolled in an experimental neurofeedback protocol in 2017, approved and overseen by this institution."
Elena noticed a slight shift in energy in the room. Board members glanced at each other, uncertain where this was going. David's fingers had stopped their drumming, his posture more alert.
"The trial Patient X took part in had an eighteen percent success rate," Finn stated, the number appearing in bold text on screen. "Eighteen percent of patients showed meaningful improvement. Eighty-two percent of the patients continued to suffer."
Elena felt a small thrill of vindication as she watched understanding dawn on several board members' faces.
"What's particularly notable," Finn continued, his voice maintaining that same measured tone, "is that the trial's timeline was compressed significantly from the researchers' original proposal. The research team filed a formal appeal, expressing concerns about patient safety and data integrity."
The screen changed to display the scanned document, the researchers' desperate, formal language highlighted in yellow: "We respectfully request a six-month extension to ensure proper monitoring of neurological responses and to implement appropriate safety protocols for participants experiencing adverse effects."
Elena watched the board members lean forward almost in unison, several adjusting their glasses to better read the document projected on the screen. The room had gone still, the only sound the soft hum of the ventilation system. David's expression had hardened, his jaw tight, eyes fixed on Finn.
"This protocol was approved by David Turner," Finn said calmly. "The research team's appeal for additional time was reviewed by David Turner."
Finn scrolled to the bottom of the document, where David's rejection sat in stark black and white: "Extension denied due to budgetary constraints." His signature flourished beneath the dismissal.
"Elena," Finn said, turning toward her. "Would you mind pulling up David's compensation data from 2017?"
David's reaction was immediate. "This is completely inappropriate!" he sputtered, half-rising from his chair. His face had gone red, veins visible in his neck. "This has nothing to do with the research under review! You're attempting to defame me in front of my colleagues, and I will not stand for it! I demand that you cease this presentation immediately!"
Board members shifted uncomfortably in their seats, eyes darting between David and each other. No one spoke.
Finn's expression didn't change. "If you're done with your temper tantrum, we’ll continue our presentation."
David's mouth fell open slightly, shock replacing rage on his face. He looked around the table at his fellow board members, clearly expecting backup, solidarity,something.
David's face cycled through emotions as he processed his isolation. Finally, he made a weak, dismissive gesture with his hand, as if he were above all this and merely allowing them to continue out of politeness.
