Page 57 of It Happened Again

Julian smiled faintly, and reached a hand out to touch my shoulder. "Ambitious. You always are.”

I didn’t look up, wishing he'd remove his hand. No sparks were there, no thrills down my spine, no taking my breath away—not at all like Brooks.

“I'd love for you to read what I've written so far. It needs to reflect the full scope of the research I’ve conducted on board. The stress feedback models, the environmental stimuli pairing, the hormone modulation—I’ve gathered so much data.”

He was quiet, hardly leaning in for a closer look.

I finally asked, “What?”

He chewed his cheek and finally removed his hand, placing it on the back of my chair. "I’m not sure that’s the best idea. That particular journal is extremely competitive, and... well, it would be more strategic to wait. Submit something more co-authored, as a team, is best.”

My stomach turned. "So I should delay sharing my own work so it can include your name?” Everything to date had been in Julian's name. Had he been using me, all of us on board, forhis advantage, this entire time? Never allowing any of us to co-author?

He tilted his head. "Maisy, I’ve invested time and energy into mentoring you. Into helping shape this project. My guidance is all over it. That’s called partnership.”

Friendship to partnership... the entire time manipulated on this ship. I closed my laptop and held it protectively to my chest, biting my tongue from saying more.

He pulled something up on his phone and showed it to me, the cover of another publication with his name on an article. “In fact, I’ve already submitted an early draft of the concept—more polished, of course—to a major publication under my name. Just to get a feel for their interest.”

I stood slowly. "You what?”

He didn’t flinch. “It’s better this way. If we get their attention with my draft, we can loop you in later. It’ll have more weight with my name, you'll be associated, build some clout.”

The floor shifted beneath me. The hum of the boat contributing to the tightness in my chest.

“No,” I said, voice shaking. “You didn’t believe in the idea until I ran the cortisol trials. I wrote the findings. That research is mine.”

Julian met my eyes in a stare where friendship definitely did not exist. "Careful, Maisy. Don’t burn bridges you still need to cross. You’ve got potential—but only if you play this smart."

I shook my head slowly. “You don’t want me to succeed. You want me to stay under you, just enough to make you look good.”

He said nothing. And that was my answer. I stalked out, almost regretting this entire cruise.

That night, alone in my bunk, I packed my things and backed up my entire project to an encrypted drive, sent a copy to myself, and knew—no matter what came next—I’d never let anyone take credit for my work again.

The ship docked the next morning. Julian had offered a quiet goodbye, saying he’d keep in touch. I nodded and said as little as possible, when I should have shouted what a devious man he was instead. Fear kept me quiet. He knew people and organizations and as I ventured out into the world to start my career, speaking out could be detrimental.

But a year later, seeking a better job, he contacted me about the Orion opportunity. “There’s a slot opening in my department I think you’d be perfect for. I’ll recommend you. If you’re still serious about this field, it could be your chance to go big.”

I'd hesitated—but Orion was the dream. Top of the field. Impossible to ignore.If I interviewed and got the job, I promised myself, I’d keep my guard up when it came to Julian...

Despite all of that, and my best intentions, now I sat here in his office at Orion, staring at my proposal on his computer screen with his name all over it, wondering how it got there. How had he managed to steal my work again? How did I let this happen?

Devastated, my heart plummeted, a dull ache blooming in my chest like a bruise. My hands shook, breath stuttering in my lungs as my vision blurred around the edges, unmoored by betrayal. But I acted fast. I took my phone out and snapped photos of anything I could use to prove his wrongdoings. I quickly brought his email up and sent a copy of it to myself as well. Then I rushed out, brushing past him.

"Maisy? What were doing in my office?" He called after me. But I didn't stop. Not until I took the elevator to the top floor and reached Dr. Stone's door, bypassing her assistant. On a mission to call out the truth once and for all, to burn Julian as a traitor to women everywhere, I knocked loudly.

"Enter," she called from within.

I breezed in and placed my phone in front of her where the most incriminating evidence was—his name on an exact copy of my work.

"Julian can't be trusted," I started, then began filling her in about our time on the ship, about his subtle manipulations. She listened in earnest, nodding, swiping through the photos.

Until the man himself jumped through the door, breathless.

"Dr. Stone, I'm afraid Maisy has taken my data. She's disappointed me with the lengths she'll go to for her own benefit." He glared at me, lying about everything, twisting everything around.

Incredulous, I balked. I wouldn’t stay silent this time. "How dare you? You know that work is mine.You'rethe one who took it."

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