Chapter 252
Richard visited several times.
He never disturbed her, simply standing quietly behind the one-way glass of the observation room, watching her slender figure move between instruments. She seemed to have returned to the Margaret of five years ago—the woman who could pursue a goal with single-minded determination.
Only this time, she wasn't fighting to save someone else, but for a battlefield of her own choosing.
Late one night, after handling urgent documents from the European branch, Richard habitually opened the laboratory surveillance feed. The main lab was brightly lit but empty. Frowning, he switched to the break area camera.
There was Margaret, asleep at a desk piled with draft papers and research literature. She had dozed off in the middle of writing, pen still in her right hand, head resting on her arm. The bluish light from the monitor cast across her face made her already pale complexion look almost ghostly.
Richard shut down his computer, grabbed his coat, and drove to the lab. He entered using his highest clearance code, stepping quietly inside. The air smelled of coffee and ozone.
He approached her, studying her peaceful sleeping face, brow slightly furrowed from the uncomfortable position. He reached out, intending to wake her and suggest she move to a proper bed.
But his fingertips paused just before touching her shoulder. He remembered that stormy night in the Arctic when he'd carried her from the command center back to her quarters.
His hesitation lasted only a moment. He bent down, slipped one arm under her knees and cradled her back and neck with the other, lifting her smoothly.
She was light, even lighter than he'd imagined. Margaret seemed to recognize the familiar embrace in her sleep, unconsciously shifting to nestle closer against him, finding a more comfortable position with a soft, contented murmur.
Richard tensed briefly, then held her even more securely. He carried her to the rest room, removed her shoes, and pulled the blanket over her.
After finishing, he didn't leave immediately but sat down beside the bed. His gaze fixed on her face, unable to look away.
He remembered how she had fallen in the Arctic blizzard, how she had protected the data core at all costs, how focused she had been while treating his wound.
In some corner of his heart, that long-suppressed emotion called love broke through every rational barrier in that moment.
He slowly lowered his head toward her face. Finally, a kiss of extreme restraint, carrying the faintest tremor, softly touched her forehead.
Warm, gentle. Brief contact, then withdrawal.
He rose, placed a glass of water by her bedside, then turned and silently left the room.
In the darkness, Margaret's eyelashes quivered slightly.
---
Prometheus's retaliation came faster and more insidiously than expected. They didn't send mercenaries this time, but deployed a more devastating weapon—public opinion.
Overnight, dozens of mainstream media outlets and online platforms uniformly broke sensational stories. The headlines were alarming: #Shocking! Female Scientist Accused of Illegal Arctic Excavation, Severe Ecological Damage!# and #Behind the Aurora Project: Resource Plundering Under the Guise of Research.#
The articles featured strategically angled photographs: drilling equipment at the Aurora camp perimeter, cross-sections of cut ice layers, and Margaret standing in the blizzard with a stern expression.
She was portrayed as a cold-blooded capitalist willing to destroy Earth's last pristine wilderness for personal gain.
The rumors spread like a virus. The lab's public relations phone lines were overwhelmed, and online abuse and accusations were overwhelming.
"These bastards!" Frank fumed, pacing around the lab, nearly kicking a million-dollar centrifuge. "They're completely twisting the facts!"
The younger researchers were equally outraged but felt powerless. In the flood of information, scientific rigor and truth seemed feeble and ineffective.
Margaret's expression remained perfectly calm. "Notify PR," she said quietly, instantly silencing the chaotic office. "Press conference in three hours."
"Ms. Kennedy, the internet is flooded with their plants. Nothing we say will matter!" The PR director was sweating profusely.
"Who said I'm going to explain anything?" Margaret's gaze swept across everyone. "I'm going to announce our results."
At three o'clock that afternoon, the Neville Group headquarters press hall was packed with hundreds of journalists. Camera flashes created a restless sea of light, every face eager for drama.
Margaret walked onto the platform alone, wearing a crisply tailored white suit. Her left arm still rested in a support sling, her face pale from days of exhaustion, but her spine was straight, her eyes clear and determined.
Ignoring the barbed questions from below, she signaled for staff to project documents onto the large screen.
"This is the research permit for our Arctic expedition, jointly issued by the Arctic Council and the Nordhaven Polar Research Institute."
"This is the 'Environmental Impact Assessment Report' filed with the United Nations Environment Programme, with a conclusion of 'minimal, controllable impact.'"
"This is our 'Joint Geological Structure Exploration Agreement' with the University of Silverveil."
One by one, documents bearing authoritative institutional seals appeared clearly on screen, each word silently lashing back at the rumors.
The commotion below gradually subsided.
Margaret continued without pause, switching to the next slide. The screen displayed complex molecular structure diagrams and a dynamic energy conversion model.
"I have no intention of discussing abstruse scientific theories with you. I simply want to tell you that what we brought back from the Arctic isn't some 'rare mineral,' but a crystalline structure that can achieve nearly one hundred percent energy conversion under specific conditions."
"This means that the clean energy problem that has troubled humanity for nearly a century may be completely solved."
She paused, her gaze sweeping the room, voice clear and powerful: "When a technology emerges that could let our children breathe cleaner air, could stop global warming, could reshape the world's energy landscape—there will always be those who, fearing the loss of their vested interests, will resort to any means to strangle it."
The hall fell completely silent.
Just then, the back doors opened, causing a ripple of commotion. Richard strode in surrounded by bodyguards, walking directly through the crowd of reporters and up onto the platform to stand beside Margaret.