Chapter 51
Heidi was about to say something more, trying to regain some ground, but as luck would have it, it was Ruben's turn to take the stage at the academic symposium.
Ruben looked vibrant and energetic. Before going on stage, he deliberately walked over to Caroline and patted her shoulder. "Caroline, get ready. You'll come up and say a few words after me."
"Dr. Flores, I..." Caroline was stunned; she wasn't prepared for this.
"It's settled then." Ruben didn't give her a chance to refuse, cheerfully turning away.
Caroline stood frozen in place, completely stunned.
On stage, Ruben's presentation was accessible yet profound, thoroughly captivating. Just as everyone was listening intently, he changed direction.
"Our recent research actually stands on the shoulders of giants, and also on the shoulders of many brilliant young people." He adjusted his glasses, scanning the audience until his gaze settled on Caroline.
"Speaking of which, I must mention an exceptionally talented young scholar. Caroline Hamilton, are you down there? Don't hide—come up and tell everyone about your previous project. Give all these fine folks some fresh perspective."
At that moment, the entire venue went silent, as if someone had pressed mute. Then whispers surged like a tide.
"Who's Caroline Hamilton?"
"I think she's Ms. White's relative."
"Why would Dr. Flores suddenly call on her? This isn't just any ordinary presentation."
Caroline felt her heart skip a beat. This Ruben really knew how to surprise people. Gazes from every direction felt like spotlights, making her skin burn.
Her fingers curled at her side, nails gently pressing into her palm—the slight pain helping her regain composure. If she wanted to break free from the Windsor family, this was a perfect opportunity. Why not seize it?
Caroline stood up and, under everyone's watchful eyes, walked step by step toward the stage.
Meanwhile, Heidi watched Caroline with contempt. Though she didn't understand why Ruben would call on her, what scholarly knowledge could a housewife possibly have?
Her hand rested casually on her leg, fingertips idly tracing the metal chain of her designer bag, the crisp sound carrying a certain nonchalant confidence.
Just then, someone sat down beside her.
"Heidi." It was Arthur. His voice was calm, yet reassuring to her.
Heidi turned her head, showing no trace of distress. Instead, she flashed a bright smile, her tone playful. "Arthur, look at Caroline up there—she certainly looks the part, but I wonder how much substance she actually has."
Arthur said nothing, just nodded reassuringly. Then he turned his attention back to the stage, his gaze deep and unreadable.
That was enough for Heidi. She felt satisfied. So what if Caroline was on stage? Arthur was still sitting beside her. No academic halo, however bright, could outshine real closeness.
She naturally linked her arm through Arthur's, her posture open and confident, as if declaring her position, her expression radiating self-assurance.
When Caroline's fingers touched the cold microphone stand, the metallic chill spread from her fingertips, strangely calming her racing heart. She looked up, scanning the audience.
Alton stood below, his eyes remarkably bright behind his glasses, nodding vigorously.
Gavin had his arms crossed, a certain smile playing at his lips.
Ruben sat in the front row, his eyes still sharp beneath his gray hair, now full of encouragement.
And further back... that familiar face with hard lines, positioned somewhat behind the crowd. Arthur was leaning back in his chair, appearing casual, yet speaking to Heidi, who affectionately clung to his arm.
Caroline sighed inwardly, glad she had decided to leave.
She withdrew her gaze and tapped the microphone gently.
"Neural reconstruction mechanisms," her voice came through the speakers, clear and steady, like a surgical knife making a clean incision, "go far beyond theoretical models."
The room fell completely silent. She no longer looked at anyone, her gaze fixed on empty space, as if a huge, intricate map of the human brain was unfolding before her.
"The core lies in glial cell-mediated microenvironment remodeling," she spoke at a measured pace, enunciating each word clearly. "It's comparable to clearing rubble and rebuilding foundations. In our clinical case, a patient with severe hippocampal damage from a car accident..."
First, she described the patient's condition—the horrifying damage visible in medical imaging, the despair in the family's eyes.
Then, the intervention methods. She discarded complicated professional jargon, using the most straightforward language to break down the complex biological signaling pathways, targeted drug delivery, and precise physical stimulation techniques.
"...Three months later, the synaptic connection density in the damaged area recovered to seventy-eight percent of pre-injury levels."
A wave of soft gasps rippled through the audience.
"The theoretical breakthrough," Caroline paused slightly, her gaze sweeping across the focused experts in the front row, "lies in our capture and amplification of the extremely weak self-repair signals remaining in the damaged area, providing precise 'navigation' coordinates for exogenous intervention, greatly reducing the risk of side effects from ineffective stimulation."
She went on to detail the comparative experimental data from that time. Her logic was impeccable, her data compelling.
In the front row, several gray-haired experts began nodding unconsciously with her reasoning, some quickly jotting notes in the margins of their conference booklets.
Arthur's gaze remained fixed on the figure on stage. The light blue formal dress enveloped her, highlighting her elegant figure.
She stood in the bright light, her expression showing a focus and certainty Arthur had never seen before—a kind of almost sharp brilliance shining from her eyes.
It was something that had been buried for seven years under the thick dust labeled "Mrs. Windsor."
His throat felt dry, and he instinctively reached for his cup, only realizing he'd forgotten to move when his fingertips touched the cold surface.
In the midst of attentive silence, the sound of high heels striking the floor rang out clearly, approaching.
Heidi, holding a champagne glass with a dazzling smile, walked directly to the front side of the podium.
Her voice was clear enough for those nearby to hear. "Your presentation is truly impressive, and your theoretical foundation is undeniably solid—as expected from the academic star you once were."
She lifted her chin slightly, her eyes filled with undisguised scrutiny: "However..."
After a deliberate pause, she glanced around the room, her tone direct. "I recall your major was theoretical research in college, right? And you went straight home after graduation. With clinical applications of neural reconstruction, you must be quite rusty, aren't you? I wonder if..."
She left the sentence unfinished, leaving room for imagination.
Her implication couldn't be clearer—someone too long removed from clinical practice was just engaging in armchair theorizing, all for show.