Chapter 4 - The Price of Genius
The check didn't clear for one hundred million dollars right then and there—even a billionaire needs liquid asset transfers cleared through federal oversight boards, especially when dealing with corporate espionage investigations. But by sunrise, Ethan Cross had deposited a five-million-dollar cashier's check directly into Mom's account as a "consultancy retainer fee" for my services and her discretion.
Our lives changed before the sun had even finished clearing the Manhattan skyline.
We didn't go back to our cramped, mold-infested apartment in Queens. Instead, Ethan’s legal team relocated us to a high-security penthouse suite overlooking Central Park within forty-eight hours. The collection calls stopped. The pharmacy bills were paid in full, along with a team of private medical specialists who finally diagnosed my chronic chest issues as a mild bronchial sensitivity that vanished the moment we moved out of our damp basement apartment.
Yet, money didn't change who I was.
While other kids my age were spending their afternoons watching cartoons or playing arcade games, I spent mine in the upper-level R&D labs of CrossTech, sitting at a custom-built ergonomic desk with dual monitors, working alongside Ethan Cross’s newly vetted engineering core.
Dr. Marcus Vale was gone—shipped off to a federal detention facility to await trial for industrial espionage and corporate treason. In his place, Ethan had promoted a younger, brilliant acoustic engineer named Dr. Sarah Lin, who actually listened when I told her how engines sang.
"Lily, look at this thermal telemetry data," Sarah said one afternoon, spinning her tablet around to show me a complex 3D simulation of the Prometheus Engine's plasma manifold. "Since we redesigned the dampening valves based on your acoustic model, the engine hasn't even flickered. We hit a three-hour continuous burn test yesterday without a single spike."
I sipped my chocolate milk through a straw, swinging my legs beneath my oversized chair. "The pressure is still slightly uneven in sector four," I pointed out, leaning closer to the screen. "Listen to the log from test run twelve. See that little dip in the audio frequency at the two-hour mark? That’s a micro-vibration from the coolant pump rubbing against the titanium housing."
Sarah stared at the audio wave, her eyes widening in disbelief. She pulled up the physical blueprint of sector four. "By God... you're right. The mounting bracket is off by half a millimeter. If you hadn't caught that, it would have sheared off under full atmospheric reentry."
She ruffled my hair with a laugh. "Sometimes I forget I'm talking to a ten-year-old and not a fifty-year-old MIT professor."
"I'm almost eleven," I corrected her solemnly.
Just then, the glass double doors of the lab hissed open. Ethan Cross strode in, wearing his signature dark suit, though he had discarded his tie. He looked tired, the dark circles under his eyes hinting at the massive legal and corporate war he was fighting against Aether Dynamics behind closed doors.
"How’s my favorite chief consultant doing?" Ethan asked, tossing a small box of gourmet donuts onto my desk.
"We found another vibration flaw in sector four," I said, grabbing a chocolate-frosted donut. "Sarah almost missed it."
Ethan chuckled, glancing at Sarah, who raised her hands in mock surrender. "She's merciless, Ethan. I swear, she's going to put us all out of a job before she hits middle school."
Ethan’s expression turned slightly more serious as he looked down at me. "Speaking of school, Maria called me a half-hour ago. She’s worried you’re spending too much time in the lab and not enough time being a kid. She enrolled you in the Oakridge Academy. Private school. Upper West Side."
My face fell. "Oakridge? But those kids are snobs. They wear blazers and make fun of my stuffed bear."
"They won't make fun of you once you hack their mainframe and rewrite their grading system in binary," Ethan said with a dry, wicked smirk. Then, his tone softened. "Listen, kiddo. Your mom is right. You earned your family financial freedom, and you helped save CrossTech from a multi-billion-dollar disaster. But you need friends your own age. You need to learn how to be a kid before you take over the corporate world."
"I don't want friends who care about designer shoes," I muttered, hugging Barnaby tighter. "I want to finish the Prometheus project."
"Prometheus isn't going anywhere," Ethan said gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. "In fact, we have our first public demonstration flight scheduled in three months. A full-scale atmospheric launch in the Mojave Desert. And you're going to be in the VIP observation deck, right beside your mother."
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Little did any of us know, the corporate spies at Aether Dynamics hadn't given up. Planting a micro-module in the lab was only phase one of their master plan.
Phase two was about to begin.
