Chapter 180
"What's on the menu today?" Diana asked without taking her eyes off the screen.
"Slow-cooked chicken and corn chowder. Soothing for your stomach and perfect for helping you relax." Rupert placed the ceramic soup tureen beside her hand and lifted the lid. Immediately, rich aromas of cream and sweet corn filled the air. "I supervised the kitchen for three hours to get it just right."
Diana's hands stilled. She turned to look at the soup—golden and translucent, with tender chicken and plump corn kernels, topped with a few fresh parsley leaves floating delicately on the surface.
Her gaze shifted from the soup to Rupert's face. He was leaning against the lab bench, watching her with unhurried attention, his eyes sparkling with something unreadable, his lips curved in that familiar half-smile.
"When did the second son of the Russell Group start studying health food recipes?" Diana asked as she picked up the spoon and took a sip.
The temperature was perfect—warm without burning.
"All in service of the brilliant mind behind our Prometheus project," Rupert replied without missing a beat. "You're the Russell Group's future gold mine. If you collapse from exhaustion, what happens to my dividends?"
Always circling back to money, she noted.
Diana didn't respond further, just quietly continued with her soup. She no longer felt that urgent need to tear away the pretense, to confirm whether "Alaric" was actually Rupert. When someone trades the death of one identity to protect another, the questioning itself becomes an intrusion.
She had begun to enjoy this strange tug-of-war between them. Watching him tell elaborate lies with a straight face, seeing him mask calculated moves behind exaggerated performances, observing how he carried out "Rupert's" protective duties under "Alaric's" identity.
It was like a silent play only the two of them understood—one performing earnestly on stage, the other watching quietly from the audience, both perfectly aware of the charade.
"There's chamomile and valerian root in the soup," Diana said suddenly, setting down her spoon. "Good sedative effects, but they slightly affect dopamine receptor activity. Next time, try passion flower instead."
Rupert's smile froze for a moment.
He hadn't expected her to suggest a better formula after just one taste.
How was Diana's brain even wired? Even drinking soup was like analyzing experimental data for her.
"Noted, Ms. York," he managed through slightly gritted teeth.
His flustered expression was almost endearing.
Diana looked at him, the faintest smile playing at her lips.
Just then, the laboratory door burst open again.
Elisa rushed in like a whirlwind.
"Diana!"
"What's happened now?" Diana asked, thinking there must be a new crisis with the project.
Rupert straightened, his playful demeanor instantly replaced with alertness.
"It's not the project..." Elisa waved her hand, trying to catch her breath, though her voice still sounded oddly high-pitched. "I think... I'm in a relationship."
Diana and Rupert exchanged glances, both seeing the same surprise reflected in each other's eyes.
"With whom?" Diana asked.
"The new postdoc from the neurobiological lab next door, Kenneth Wood." Elisa's voice grew progressively quieter. "We had that joint seminar a few days ago, and his research on axonal regeneration microenvironments aligns perfectly with our project. He added me on Facebook afterward, and we've been discussing research topics, but that's not important..."
Elisa's love-struck state had miraculously fueled an even greater passion for work.
"What's important is the final integration report from the phase two animal trials! All the data is in, and it's... perfect!"
She slapped the report down on the gleaming lab bench, her voice vibrating with barely contained excitement. "Look at these neural regeneration rates—they're seven percentage points higher than our model predicted! And not a single case of immune rejection or adverse reaction!"
"In six months at most, we can formally submit our clinical trial application to the EMA and FDA!"
The report expanded across the virtual screen, dense with data and curve graphs.
Diana's gaze swept over it, her fingertips tracing along the display until they paused on a curve showing protein phosphorylation levels.
"Not good enough. The inhibition rate fluctuation exceeds 0.1% here. It's within safety parameters, but it's not optimal. Athena, reduce the nanocarrier particle size of adjuvant A7 by 5 nanometers and re-simulate the pharmacokinetic model."
"Yes, Ms. York."
The wild joy on Elisa's face cooled slightly, replaced by familiar admiration. This extreme meticulousness was precisely why Prometheus had cut through every obstacle in its path.
"Understood. I'll adjust the protocol immediately." Elisa accepted the directive and turned to rush out with the same whirlwind energy she'd arrived with.
At the doorway, she suddenly turned back, winked at Diana, and flashed a mischievous smile. "By the way, Kenneth mentioned the botanical garden has a new iris display. The colors are supposed to be spectacular."
Before Diana could respond, Elisa had vanished.
Diana's gaze lingered in the empty space for a second before returning to the complex data model. This time, however, her lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile.
---
The weekend at Russell Manor found Mason in excellent spirits, his voice booming as he enthusiastically led Diana on a garden walk, with Rupert following at a respectful distance.
"Diana, my dear, Zack tells me your birthday is coming up soon?" Mason paused beneath a flowering orchid, his eyes twinkling with warmth.
Diana hesitated.
Birthday—a word that had long lost its meaning for her.
Since getting lost at age five, she'd never celebrated a birthday again. Even after being found by the York family, her birthday parties had merely been social showcases for her mother and sister, nothing to do with her at all.
"It's just another day," she said softly. "Please don't trouble yourself."
"Nonsense!" Mason thumped his cane on the ground, his bushy eyebrows shooting up. "You've come into our home, healed these old bones of mine, and breathed life back into that impossible company project. You're not an outsider—you're the Russell family's lucky star, practically my granddaughter!"
"This birthday must be celebrated properly! The whole of Seaside City should know that you, Diana York, are the most honored person in the Russell family!"
Mason's words rang with genuine affection, carrying an authority and fondness that brooked no refusal.
Diana didn't know how to respond. She wasn't accustomed to being the center of attention, nor to such pure, uncomplicated goodwill.
"Grandfather's right," Rupert finally spoke up, strolling closer in his perfectly tailored linen shirt that somehow managed to look both casual and expensive. "Let's celebrate. Think of it as a party for Prometheus's milestone success."
"Besides," he added with a teasing lilt, "you can't stay cooped up in that lab playing mad scientist forever. You need to see sunlight occasionally before you start growing mold."
His words were half-jest, half-rescue.
Diana looked up at him.
After a few seconds of silence, she finally nodded. "All right. But... something small would be preferable."