Page 38 of Spiral
Three.
Two.
One.
“What the fuck did you do, Jamie?” he yelled.
“I think the data is clear.”
“Jamie—”
“Behold the vast amount of fuckery you enacted on the data to mold it to suit the results you wanted.”
He stared right at me, and horror turned to smugness. “You release this, then it’s your name against what we did.”
“Wedidn’t do anything,” I replied, dragging another file into the chat calledJamieIsNotAWanker.docx. I’d never seen Sean move so fast as he opened it. “See, that is the original data that we were submitting before you changed it. Now, my name is no longer on this study, and we both know what you did exposed flaws, and it has to be started all over again.”
“You arsehole?—”
“Nope, that would be you,” I muttered. Then I leaned closer to the camera, my resolve hardening. “And unless you retract your accusations, I won’t just allow this to fade in the background while you start again; I will expose the manipulation of data you conducted during this project. I might have taken the hit with my research because you removed me from the project, but you have shown me the kind of man you were, and I’m relieved you fucked me over.”
He was stuck somewhere between arrogant and horrified. “You won’t reveal shit,” he snarled. “You’re way too polite to embarrass yourself by admitting you knew what I’d done.”
There it was, that smug shit again. “I’m way past being embarrassed, and I’ve sent out enough emails to ensure what you have means nothing. With great regret, I’ve hinted in every message that I feel the data collection was flawed.”
“You fuck?—”
“—And I will release the raw data that shows it was all you.” I leaned to one side, tapping at my keyboard. He didn’t have to know I was faking typing an email.
Sean’s face went pale, the smugness evaporating. “You wouldn’t dare,” he snarled, his veneer of control slipping.
“I would, and you know I will. If you take away the work I’m doing here, if you undermine me in any way, then I have nothing to lose anymore, Sean,” I said firmly. The threat hung between us, heavy and dangerous.
After a moment of tense silence, he nodded slowly, beaten. “Fine.”
“Send a retraction to the commission. Do it now. I’ll wait.”
“Now, be reasonable. I’ll send it as soon as this call is ended.”
“Copy me in. You have ten minutes, or I send this evidence email to OberonTech, NYU, and the University Grants Commission.” I ended the call abruptly, feeling neither triumph nor relief, only a weary resignation. The victory, if it could becalled that, was hollow, tainted by the fact I’d had to pull out the big guns.
The email from him, copying me in, arrived within five minutes, full of excuses and accusations of misunderstandings, and I forwarded it on to Barbara.
I sat back in my chair, startled when my alarm sounded. The girls.
I was at the school within twenty minutes, not entirely recalling the journey. The burn of righteous indignation was strong in my chest, and I had to watch the Craig video three times before I calmed down.
Scarlett and Daisy were a breath of fresh air, talking, demanding, laughing, and taking my mind off everything. Barbara’s email arrived a short time after we got home, acknowledging that the situation was resolved.
Damn right it was resolved.
Then Jackson was there, armed with a supply of Cadbury chocolate—his usual apology for me having to step in. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it wasn’t the same as the chocolate back home, because I wasn’t mean like that.
Then Oli arrived, Craig trailing after him. I snagged Craig as soon as I was able, tugging him into the study and shutting the door.
Our reunion was all kisses and sighs, and him telling me he loved me, and me saying it back. Between breaths, I announced my small victory, “I won my battle of the exes today,” letting the relief and triumph spill over into our kissing.
Someone knocked loudly on the door. “Break it up guys! Pizza is here!”
