Chapter 321

Chapter 321

The air in the research institute seemed to freeze in that moment.

The next two months were a period of rigorously demanding verification.

From cell experiments to animal trials, every step was taken with extreme caution.

When the final report from primate testing landed on Calista's desk—showing that the drug effectively eliminated lesions with virtually no side effects on the subjects—even her usually steady hands trembled slightly.

She'd done it.

Calista and her team, on an island besieged by the world's top capital, had actually built their own airport. And not just any airport—a starship carrier no one could have imagined.

The news couldn't be contained.

When the paper's preprint appeared on the world's largest academic exchange platform, the entire life sciences community exploded.

Initially, there was skepticism.

"This is impossible!"

"A universal drug-generation platform like this contradicts existing theory. How did they do it?"

But when Calista's team released portions of the desensitized algorithmic model and experimental data, all skepticism turned to gasps of astonishment.

The world's top scientific journals, Nature and Science, broke a century of precedent. On the same day, both published the unreviewed paper as their front-page headlines.

Nature's headline read: [Beacon from Stockholm: Dr. Softhart and Her Team Are Redefining Drug Development].

Science was more direct: [The End of One Era, The Beginning of Another].

Mainstream media worldwide went into a frenzy.

The Wall Street Journal: [Yesterday's Gamble, Today's Miracle: The Frost Group's Vision vs. Wall Street's Myopia].

The Times: [With One Fortress, She Safeguarded the Next Century of Human Medicine].

Der Spiegel found the perfect angle for irony, publishing Harrison's original doom-and-gloom piece alongside the current achievement under the headline [Winter's Best Joke].

Calista's name transformed overnight from academic star to household legend. She was called "the woman who rewrote medical history," "the scientist closest to God."

The institute's threshold was nearly trampled.

The Nobel Prize Committee chairman visited personally. CEOs of top pharmaceutical companies lined up with blank checks, hoping merely for a chance to meet her.

Meanwhile, the suppliers who'd kicked them when they were down and terminated contracts—their bosses couldn't even get through the institute's front door.

Leo walked into the executive office with a report, unable to hide his smile.

"Mr. Frost, Apollo Global Capital's stock has evaporated forty percent over the past week. Our Project Neptune has secured seven percent of their outstanding shares. Harrison... I hear he's been indefinitely suspended pending internal investigation."

Gary listened calmly, his gaze on the window.

Stockholm's winter seemed to have passed.

The real victory belonged to Calista. She'd won it herself, fair and square.

He picked up his phone and called Leo.

"How are the gala preparations coming?"

"All set. I've reserved the Blue Hall at Stockholm City Hall. We're matching Nobel banquet standards."

"Change the venue," Gary interrupted.

"Change it?"

"Hold it on the institute lawn. Champagne, barbecue, the best band. Let everyone relax. Let them know this party belongs to them."

Leo paused, then understood.

...

The official gala was held in Stockholm City Hall's Blue Hall.

This was where Nobel banquets took place, every corner steeped in scientific glory.

The lawn party had been the family dinner, the institute's internal celebration.

Tonight was the formal unveiling of this "starship carrier" to the world.

Zephyrian royalty, government officials, presidents of top global universities, and CEOs of pharmaceutical giants who'd once shut Project Spark out—all stood with champagne glasses, gathered here.

Their gazes, intentionally or not, all drifted toward the same direction.

Calista.

She wore no elaborate gown, just a sharply tailored white dress with a small ginkgo leaf brooch at the collar.

Her hair was pinned up, revealing the graceful lines of her slender neck and shoulders.

She stood there without engaging anyone in conversation, yet existed in a world of her own—one that dimmed all the surrounding glamour.

The institute's young members, experiencing such a scene for the first time, felt somewhat awkward but mostly proud.

They naturally gathered around Calista like knights protecting their queen.

The host was the Secretary-General of the Nobel Committee for Physiology or Medicine, a charming elderly Zephyrian.

After several rounds of official remarks, he announced in an aria-like tone, "Now, let us give our warmest applause to the creator of this miracle, the brightest scientific jewel of our era—Dr. Softhart!"

Thunderous applause erupted.

Calista took the stage and accepted the microphone.

The Blue Hall fell instantly silent. Beneath the dome, countless crystal chandeliers focused their light on her alone.

"Good evening." Her voice carried clearly through the microphone across the entire hall, as calm and gentle as always.

"Many call our achievement a 'miracle.' But at the institute, we prefer to call it 'routine.' It's day after day of attempts, the accumulation of tedious data, the hundred-and-first restart after a hundred failures."

She didn't speak in grand narratives or use rousing rhetoric. She simply stated facts.

"So tonight's glory doesn't belong to me personally. It belongs to everyone at the institute. To the engineers who worked seventy-two hours straight in the workshop, to the programmers who stayed awake for an algorithm, to every researcher, even to the custodians who clean our labs every day."

Her gaze slowly swept across her team below—those young, excited faces.

"Thank you. Your perseverance turned the 'impossible' into the 'possible.'"

"I also want to thank my child, who taught me that protecting life matters far more than conquering the world."

That sentence made Gary's body stiffen abruptly.

The child...

This was the first time she'd mentioned that tacitly acknowledged existence in such a public setting.

Even warmer applause rose from below, mixed with good-natured laughter. A great scientist who was also a mother—this made her image even more complete and compelling in everyone's eyes.

Calista paused, then continued. "Finally, I want to thank my family for giving me my initial convictions and my final harbor."

Family.

She'd used that word.

Many present knew of her relationship with the Frost family and instinctively glanced toward Gary.

But Calista's speech ended there.

"Thank you all."

She bowed slightly, then turned to leave the stage.

No Gary.

From beginning to end, she'd thanked her team, thanked her child, thanked the vague collective term "family." In earlier media interviews, she'd even formally thanked "the Frost Group's strategic investment."

But she'd specifically omitted him.

Gary, who'd stood beside her as her husband for three years.

The atmosphere in the hall became subtly awkward.

The host was clearly surprised but immediately stepped forward to smooth things over.

Just then, a figure rose from the VIP table and walked steadily, step by step, toward the brilliantly lit stage.

Gary.

Ignoring everyone, he took the other microphone from the host's hand.

Every sound in the hall stopped abruptly.

Even the band ceased playing.

Gary walked to Calista's side. They stood shoulder to shoulder—one cool as moonlight, one deep as the sea.

He first glanced at the audience below, his gaze calm yet carrying an invisible pressure that made the entire Blue Hall fall silent enough to hear a pin drop.

Then he turned to look at Calista.

"Dr. Softhart's list of acknowledgments was very complete. But she missed the one person who should thank her most."

Gary's voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly through the microphone to every ear.

"That person is me."

The crowd erupted in murmurs.

Calista's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. She didn't understand what he was doing.

Gary gave her no chance to question. His gaze remained locked on her, those deep eyes churning with complex emotions others couldn't read.

"Three years ago, I was someone who could have ended up bedridden, a shell of a man. She—with her talent and tenacity—pulled me back from the Abyss."

"The whole world saw her build a fortress of science. Only I know she first repaired this crumbling ruin that was me."

"So the one who should say thank you is me."

"But," his tone shifted, "just saying thank you isn't enough."

He did something toward Calista—this woman who'd achieved godlike status in the world's eyes—that left everyone, including Calista herself, stunned.

He dropped to one knee.

Gasps of disbelief erupted from the crowd.

This was Gary! The capital shark that made Wall Street tremble, the unchallenged emperor of this business empire! He was actually... kneeling to his own wife in such a setting?

Calista's body froze. She instinctively moved to help him up, her hand reaching halfway before stopping in midair.

Gary looked up at her, his eyes stripped of their usual calculation and control, showing only an all-or-nothing sincerity.

He pulled out that velvet box from his pocket again.

Opened it.

Under the spotlight, the ring refracted light more captivating than any diamond in the room.

That deep blue glow seemed to emerge from glacial depths at the poles, penetrating ten thousand years of time just to reflect in her eyes.

"On the terrace, my proposal was too hasty and too selfish. I only thought about erasing the past. I forgot to ask if you'd give me a future."