Chapter 326

Chapter 326

Dahlia was feeding him fruit with a small silver spoon, one spoonful at a time. She paused, confused.

"What?"

Seeing this, Ethan's little brows furrowed. He immediately switched language modes and blurted out, "Meatballs! Grandma, I want Zephyrian meatballs!"

Dahlia finally understood, then burst into delighted laughter.

"My dear Ethan, just how much is packed in that little head of yours? Switching languages back and forth—Grandma can barely keep up."

She complained with her words, but her smile was impossible to hide. She turned and shouted toward the kitchen, "Did you hear that! Ethan wants meatballs! Make them for dinner!"

Having received confirmation, Ethan happily rolled on the carpet again, then scrambled up and ran to the study doorway, poking his little head inside.

Calista was handling administrative documents for the lab. The computer screen displayed dense procurement lists and personnel files.

"Mom, when's Daddy coming home?"

"Soon. Daddy has a very important meeting today." Calista answered without looking up.

Ethan said "Oh," then asked, "Will Daddy bring me a present?"

"What present do you want?"

"Um..." He tilted his little head, thinking seriously. "I want new LEGO that can fly. Daddy said he'd pluck the moon down for me."

Calista's fingers on the keyboard paused.

She looked up at Ethan's small face, illuminated by sunlight, his clear eyes holding unreserved trust and adoration for Gary.

She suddenly felt Dahlia's decision to tear down that wall and replace it with floor-to-ceiling glass might have been absolutely right.

Sunlight really could change many things.

Like this mansion's former coldness. Like certain shadows that had long occupied her heart.

Evening came. Gary returned.

He still carried outdoor coolness. As soon as he entered, that small cannonball named Ethan charged over and hugged his leg.

"Daddy!"

Gary's body stiffened, then he bent down somewhat awkwardly and lifted him up.

He'd practiced this motion countless times over the past three months, yet it still carried deliberate caution.

"Were you good today?"

"Yes! I ate two bowls of rice and helped Grandma water the flowers!" Ethan puffed out his little chest like claiming credit. "Daddy, where's my moon?"

Gary, holding him, walked to Calista's desk.

He didn't pull out any toy but instead took a deep blue velvet box from his suit's inner pocket.

Not the common square shape, but smaller, more delicate—rectangular.

He didn't give the box to the child but placed it directly beside Calista's computer.

A soft sound, particularly clear in the quiet study.

Calista's gaze moved from the computer screen to the box.

Gary said nothing, just watched her.

Ethan also craned his neck curiously, thinking it was his gift.

Calista was silent for a few seconds, then reached out and opened the box.

Inside lay a ring.

Not the one she'd worn before.

Completely different design.

The platinum band was polished to an understated matte finish, without any ostentatious center stone. Instead, countless tiny diamonds traced a brilliant galaxy across the band.

Understated, elegant, yet hiding undeniable brilliance. Very much a style she'd like.

But that wasn't the point.

The point was the band's inner wall.

She lifted the ring toward the light.

Engraved in tiny letters.

Not the initials she'd expected.

But three names.

Gary. Calista. And their son's name, Ethan.

Three names in flowing script, tightly connected, forming an indivisible whole.

Calista's fingers unconsciously tightened.

The ring in her hand suddenly felt scalding, so heavy she could barely hold it.

This was no longer just a wedding band.

This was a declaration.

Gary, in his most direct and clumsy way, had officially, completely, carved her and Ethan into his life.

"The previous one was chosen by the Frost family," Gary finally spoke, his voice low. "This one, I chose."

He paused, adding one more sentence.

"This one is more appropriate."

Ethan, not understanding their conversation, only cared about his moon.

"Daddy, this isn't the moon." He muttered somewhat disappointedly.

Gary looked down at Ethan, his eyes showing rare gentleness.

"It's not the moon," he admitted. "But with it, Daddy can take you and Mom anywhere you want to go. Including the moon."

Calista looked at the father and son before her.

She suddenly remembered the Moving Castle plan, that hundred-billion-dollar "moat."

Gary was always like this.

Using an almost domineering approach to build one impregnable castle after another for her.

Physical. Commercial. And now, emotional.

Calista said nothing more, just silently removed the old ring from her hand and returned it to its original box.

Then she slowly slid this new ring engraved with three names onto her ring finger.

The size was perfect.

As if it had been waiting there a long time.

...

The new ring on her hand had a perfectly comfortable warmth.

When Calista calibrated equipment in the lab, the platinum's gleam occasionally caught her eye—not glaring, but with an undeniable presence.

Like a quiet reminder.

Seaside City's National Key Biomedical Laboratory was taking shape.

The Frost Group's execution was terrifying.

From groundbreaking to main structure completion to cleanroom installation and equipment delivery—less than four months.

In the industry, this was nearly impossible speed.

Calista even received a schedule accurate to the minute, clearly marking each phase's person in charge and backup plans.

She only needed to come daily to confirm equipment parameters and experimental environments met requirements.

Everything else was handled impeccably by others.

That afternoon, Calista was video conferencing with several core team members, discussing priority for the first batch of research projects.

"...I'm inclined to make Alzheimer's early intervention targets our primary focus. We have preliminary data accumulation in this field, and social demand is most urgent." A postdoc said.

Calista nodded, about to speak, when her personal inbox received a new email.

The sender's domain was a familiar international organization—the Global Drug Development Ethics Review Committee.

This was an unofficial third-party oversight body, but wielded extremely high authority in the industry.

Any new drug hoping for global distribution that this organization labeled with "ethical risk" was essentially sentenced to death.

Calista's heart sank slightly.

She opened the email.

The content was brief and formal.

[Dear Dr. Softhart: This committee has received an anonymous report alleging your Project Spark Institute in Zephyria's "STAR07" project engaged in data screening and sample exclusion during Phase III clinical trials that violated standard procedures. To ensure scientific ethics integrity, we will launch a compliance investigation. Relevant documents have been sent to Project Spark Institute and the Frost Group legal department. Please cooperate with your team.]

In the video meeting, team members were still discussing enthusiastically.

But Calista's ears heard only buzzing static.

Data screening. Sample exclusion.

The most critical and most vulnerable aspects of clinical trials.

Any successful clinical trial inevitably excluded samples that didn't meet criteria or encountered unexpected complications.

But this process required strict, traceable, transparent procedures.

The accusation struck precisely at the project's lifeline.

This wasn't ordinary business competition. This was murder aimed at completely destroying her academic reputation.

Once the "violation" label stuck, even though the STAR07 project had concluded perfectly, this stain would follow her forever.

All her future research would be scrutinized under a microscope. She herself would be nailed to academia's pillar of shame.

Who?

Several vague shadows flashed through Calista's mind.

A competitor within Project Spark Institute?

Or...

Her fingers unconsciously rubbed the ring on her finger.

That slight coolness gradually calmed her chaotic thoughts.

She didn't reply to the email or reveal anything in the meeting, just calmly listened to everyone's presentations, then said, "Let's end here today. Everyone refine your proposals. We'll review them tomorrow."

After closing the video, she sat in the empty office, looking at the busy crane outside the window, silent for a long time.

Then she called Gary's assistant.

"Is Mr. Frost in a meeting?"

"Ms. Softhart," Leo's voice was respectful, "Mr. Frost finished his meeting half an hour ago. He's currently... probably in the executive lounge on the top floor."

Calista hung up, grabbed her car keys, and drove directly to Frost Group headquarters.

The top-floor lounge was Gary's private space.

Unlike his office's coldness, this room was elegantly rustic. A dark solid wood table held several exquisite ceramics. The entire room exuded a quiet temperament.

Gary sat at the head, reviewing a document. Seeing Calista push the door open, he showed no surprise, just lifted his eyes and indicated the seat across from him.

"Sit."

Before him lay another document. The header bore the Global Drug Development Ethics Review Committee logo.

Clearly, he already knew.

Calista sat across from him without speaking.

Gary closed the document in his hand, pushed it aside, picked up the coffee pot, and poured her a cup. The faint coffee aroma softened the atmosphere considerably.