Page 37 of Spiral
“A letter was received from a company out of New York, umm… OberonTech… who suggested your study is based on existing research, and I want your side of this, so I know what to say to them.”
OberonTech.
OberonTech, who’d paid Sean a metric ton of money for what was my research.
I could hardly believe what I was hearing; the audacity was staggering. I was embarrassed, furious, and, above all, determined to set the record straight.
Keep calm.
“This is nonsense,” I began.
“Still, I need to take this seriously, Dr. Hennessy.”
“As do I,” I said. “I will get you a letter of retraction immediately, Barbara,” I promised, my voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside me. I knew what I had to do next—I had to confront Sean face-to-face, even if only through a digital screen.
Setting up the call, I tried to steel myself against the emotions churning through me. When his face appeared on my screen, smug and irritatingly calm, a part of me wanted to reach through the monitor and shake the truth out of him.
“Well hello there, sweetness,” he said, all smiles as if this were a social call.
“Don’t call me that.”
He pouted. Fake-pouted. How did I ever find this man attractive? Now I had Craig in my life and my heart, it highlighted how unattractive Sean was. Not just how he faked his way through life, but in the darkness of his dead heart. What kind of mathematician fudges results, tells lies, and steals research?
A Moriarty level of an evil fucking arsehole, that’s who.
“What did you do?” I asked, and he knew exactly what I meant.
“Just set the record straight,” he said, all oily and pouty.
I wanted to reach through the screen and punch his oily, pouty face.
“How about you come back to New York, Jamie? We can work this out together,” Sean offered smoothly, as if it were the most reasonable suggestion in the world. “I’ll even put your name back on your… on the research.”
“No, Sean,” I replied, my voice cold and hard. “I’m not returning to New York, and I’m certainly not working with you. Not now, notever.” The finality of my words seemed to take him by surprise, his smug expression faltering just a bit.
“There’s no need for rudeness, sweetheart.”
“I am not your sweetheart.”
“You know I wouldn’t intentionally hurt you with this, but?—”
“Fuck. You,” I snapped and promptly snorted a laugh when he clutched some imaginary pearls. I don’t think I’d ever pulledout that curse with him—maybe I should have done so way before this.
His indignation turned sly. “You just have to come back…”
“Not happening.”
He shrugged then as if he wasn’t messing with my life. “That’s your choice.”
I glanced away from him and found the file I’d kept safe. I dragged it into the chat window and heard the noise of it arriving at his end.
“What’s this?” he asked, still smiling, until he read the file I’d cleverly namedSeanIsAWanker.docx. “What the hell?—”
“Open it.”
He muttered something, and I saw his gaze slip to wherever the file had opened on the screen. I gave him five.
Four.
