The next morning, Flavia was in the glass-walled conference room at BioGenix.
The situation was catastrophic.
The R&D director was pacing, sweating through his shirt. "The FDA Phase 1 trial data was corrupted. We have to redo the sample set. It's a contamination issue."
Flavia looked at the financials on her tablet.
"We don't have the runway," she said, her voice steady. "We have cash for two weeks of operations. A redo costs three million dollars."
She needed this company to stay afloat. Her entire investigation hinged on the data hidden within its servers. Without it, she couldn't afford to expose the Fitzpatricks without revealing her own hand.
She spent the next hour on the phone. Venture capitalists. Angel investors. Everyone said no. BioGenix was radioactive.
The receptionist buzzed in. "Mr. Fitzpatrick is here again. He says he's here to talk business."
Flavia rubbed her temples. "Send him in."
Eliseo walked in. He looked terrible. He was wearing a black suit, but his eyes were red-rimmed, and he hadn't shaved.
He didn't say hello. He pulled a checkbook out of his jacket pocket. He wrote a check, tore it out, and slid it across the glass table.
"Five million," Eliseo said. "Equity investment. It's enough to cover the trial and keep the lights on for six months."
Flavia looked at the check. The zeros swam before her eyes. It was a lifeline.
Eliseo leaned forward, his hands on the table.
"Come home, Flavia. We can start over. I'll fund the company. You don't have to stress about this."
Flavia stared at him. He was doing it again. Transactional affection. Buying his way out of a problem.
She stood up. She placed her finger on the check and slid it back across the table.
"BioGenix does not accept charity," she said.
Eliseo looked incredulous. "You're being emotional. Without this money, this place folds. Your work is gone."
"I will find the funding," Flavia said. "My way."
Eliseo laughed, a harsh, dry sound. "No one on Wall Street will touch this. Not unless I vouch for it."
"Then watch me," Flavia said. "Please leave my conference room, Mr. Fitzpatrick."
Eliseo stared at her for a long moment. He snatched the check-up and stormed out.
The moment the door closed, Flavia picked up her phone. She dialed a number she had never used. It was an encrypted line.
It connected to a private equity firm in Zurich. The man on the other end owed her a favor from a forensic audit she had done under a pseudonym three years ago. She had saved him from a prison sentence.
"I'm calling in the marker," Flavia said. "I need a bridge loan. Three million. High interest, convertible note. But using this line will ping my location to my father's network. I'm accepting that risk."
She spoke for five minutes, using technical financial jargon that would have made Eliseo's head spin.
"Done," the voice said. "Wire is initiating. Be careful, Flavia."
Flavia hung up. She slumped back in her chair, exhaling a breath she felt like she'd been holding for hours.
She had done it. She didn't need him. But now, her enemies knew where to find her.
Down in the parking lot, Eliseo sat in his car, staring up at the office window. He felt a profound sense of defeat. His money, his ultimate weapon, was useless against her.
His phone rang. It was the lawyer again.
"Eliseo, where are you? The funeral arrangements need to be finalized. Your mother is asking for you."
Eliseo closed his eyes. The reality of his grandfather's death crashed back down on him. He was alone.
