Chapter 317

Chapter 317

"Okay, thank you." Calista nodded to the young woman.

The intern fled gratefully.

The office was left with Calista alone.

She slit open the envelope.

Inside was just one thin sheet of paper. The handwriting matched the envelope—crooked, chaotic.

No salutation. No signature.

It opened with rambling curses—cursing Calista, cursing Gary, cursing the world's injustice.

Then the tone shifted to reminiscing about so-called "beautiful past times."

[...You're a Nobel laureate now. A great scientist everyone admires. But you stole my life. You took everything from me. Gary is mine. The position of Mrs. Frost is mine. Those honors should be mine too!]

[You think you won? You haven't.]

The letter's final lines were written in blood red.

[I know all your secrets. I know what you fear most. You'll never shake me off. I'm coming back. I will come find you.]

Calista calmly finished reading the entire letter.

She just felt it was pathetic.

Rosalind still lived in the past, refusing to move on.

While she had moved far beyond.

She refolded the paper, returned it to the envelope, then picked up her phone and dialed.

Captain Lawson from the Criminal Investigation Division. They'd worked together on the White Chamber case.

"Captain Lawson, hello. This is Calista."

"Dr. Softhart! Hello! What can I do for you?"

"I received a letter from Seaside City Women's Prison containing personal threats. I believe this falls under your jurisdiction."

Her tone was as calm as presenting an experimental report.

Captain Lawson paused, then responded quickly. "Don't worry, we'll send someone immediately for evidence collection!"

Thirty minutes later, two officers arrived at the institute, collected the letter, and took detailed statements from Calista.

After the police left, Calista returned to her office and made herself hot coffee.

This matter ended here.

She wouldn't waste another emotion on Rosalind.

That evening, Gary picked her up from work.

The car drove steadily toward home. Calista mentioned the incident casually, like a minor footnote.

"Received a letter from Rosalind today. I already gave it to the police."

Gary's hands tightened on the steering wheel. The car slowed.

He turned. Streetlight fell across his face, expression dark and unreadable.

"What did she write?"

"Crazy talk." Calista didn't want to repeat those vile words. "Basically resentment. Trying to scare me."

She looked at his tense profile, reached out, and placed her hand over his on the wheel, patting gently.

"I'm fine. To me, it was just waste paper. Can't affect me."

Her calm, her composure, gradually quelled the violent rage that had surged in Gary's chest.

He turned his hand and gripped hers tightly.

He said nothing more, just restarted the car, though his expression remained dark.

Calista knew he was angry.

Not at her, but at the security gap that allowed that letter to reach her.

Back home, Gary didn't join her and Ethan for dinner as usual, but went straight to the study.

Calista didn't disturb him.

She knew he needed space to process his fury.

In the study, Gary called Leo, voice ice-cold.

"Investigate. Seaside City Women's Prison. Who was on duty today, who had contact with Rosalind, who helped her smuggle that letter out. Top to bottom—turn everything inside out."

"Also, contact the best security firm. I want a complete upgrade of Seaside City Prison's surveillance system. Especially Rosalind's cell block. I want to know if a fly enters—whether it's male or female."

"Cut off all her external communication channels, including her lawyer. Tell them if this happens again, it won't be as simple as losing their jobs."

Gary's words were few, but each carried unquestionable authority.

After hanging up, Gary stood by the study's floor-to-ceiling window, staring into the deep night for a long time without moving.

Rosalind was like rotten flesh attached to their lives. He'd thought it completely excised, yet it still emitted a putrid stench.

He couldn't tolerate it.

Couldn't tolerate any potential threat coming within an inch of Calista.

After some time, the study door opened gently.

Calista entered carrying warm milk.

"Still working?" She set the glass beside him.

"Finished." Gary turned. The cold aura had dissipated. He pulled her into his embrace, chin resting against her forehead.

"This won't happen again." He promised.

"Mm." Calista leaned against him, listening to his steady, powerful heartbeat. "I trust you."

She looked up at him.

"Gary, don't get angry over people who aren't worth it. We have so much more to do."

She stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips.

...

Three months later. Stockholm.

Karolinska Institute's grand auditorium was packed.

The world's top biotech companies, investment institutions, academic luminaries, and dozens of international media outlets focused on the slender yet upright figure on stage.

Calista stood behind the podium, backed by a massive blue screen displaying one line in clean white font:

[Next Generation Life Sciences Initiative]

"We're gathered here today not to review past achievements, but to launch an entirely new future."

Her voice transmitted clearly through the microphone to every corner of the auditorium. Calm, yet powerful.

"The core of the 'Next Generation Life Sciences Initiative' is integration and prediction. We'll establish the world's largest gene sequence database and use deep learning algorithms to simulate and predict genetic diseases, cancer, and aging processes in unprecedented ways. Our goal isn't to treat disease after it occurs, but to intervene precisely before it emerges."

Silence fell, followed by irrepressible murmurs.

The vision was too grand, almost fantastical. But coming from Calista made all the difference.

She paused, gaze sweeping the hall, finally settling on the man in the center of the first row.

Gary wore a dark suit, posture relaxed against his chair. Unlike others whispering, he simply watched her quietly, eyes focused.

Their gazes met briefly in the air.

Calista continued. "I know this sounds crazy. This project will take an estimated ten years with initial investment exceeding five billion dollars. Unprecedented in basic scientific research."

Five billion dollars!

The figure made murmurs spike instantly.

"So I need an equally crazy partner with sufficient capability." The faintest smile touched Calista's lips. "Today, I'm pleased to introduce the sole investment and security strategic partner for the 'Next Generation Life Sciences Initiative'—the Frost Group."

Every gaze turned to Gary in unison.

He stood, didn't approach the podium, just nodded slightly to the crowd—composed, elegant, with an air of complete control.

Camera flashes exploded.

One was a rising star in biomedicine. The other, a top business titan.

This couple was joining forces for something big.

After the conference, reporters swarmed Calista and Gary.

"Dr. Softhart, is your collaboration with Mr. Frost purely business, or are there family considerations?"

"Mr. Frost, did the Frost Group's board object to a five-billion-dollar investment? What's the risk assessment?"

Gary stood before Calista, shielding her from most of the crowd. He answered just one question simply.

"This isn't venture capital." He looked at the reporter, tone flat. "This is investment in the future. The Frost Group is honored to participate."

Leo and the security team quickly cleared a path, escorting them from the chaotic venue.

Back in the institute's private office area, Calista finally relaxed. She slipped off her heels and stepped barefoot onto the soft carpet.

"Tired?" Gary handed her warm water.

"I'm okay." Calista took a sip, looking at him. "Weren't you afraid I'd exaggerate during the presentation?"

"'Exaggeration' isn't in my dictionary." Gary walked to the massive floor-to-ceiling window, looking at the institute's campus. "Only 'achievement.'"

He turned, walked to Calista's desk, and lightly touched an inconspicuous metal contact point.

A soft sound. The office's glass walls instantly turned opaque frosted, blocking all outside views.

Simultaneously, a holographic interface appeared suspended in midair.

The institute's entire security system schematic—from perimeter infrared sensors to dynamic capture and access management in every lab. Dense as a dragnet.

"All core areas have triple voice-print, iris, and gait recognition systems. The data center is physically isolated using military-grade encryption standards." Gary's finger swept through the air, pulling up several surveillance feeds. "Every minute you spend here is absolutely secure."

This was his so-called "security strategic partnership."

He'd essentially transplanted—even enhanced—Seaside City's top-tier security system to Stockholm.

Calista looked at the dizzingly complex system interface, torn between laughter and tears.

"Is this necessary? This is Zephyria."