Silence.
Alexandra added:
“In machines.”
“Not people.”
Henry almost smiled bitterly.
“That's where you're wrong.”
She took one step closer.
“Then maybe we both need this.”
Henry looked toward the eviction notice.
Then his daughter.
Then Alexandra.
“Five thousand.”
“Upfront.”
“No tricks.”
“No.”
“No ownership of anything I create.”
“Anything new becomes negotiated separately.”
“Written?”
“Yes.”
Henry breathed.
“When?”
“Three.”
“What time is it?”
“Ten twenty.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
Alexandra extended her hand.
Henry looked at it.
Then shook.
Her hand was warm.
His rough.
Neither released immediately.
A strange moment.
Too long for business.
Too brief for anything else.
Alexandra withdrew first.
“I'll send the contract.”
She walked toward her car.
Then turned.
“Henry.”
“What?”
“Last night you told me to take my car to a real garage.”
“Yes.”
“You lied.”
He frowned.
“You are a real engineer.”
Henry looked away.
“Not anymore.”
Alexandra stared at him.
“We'll see.”
The contract arrived at 2:15.
Five thousand-dollar check.
Henry deposited it.
Paid rent.
Paid school pictures.
Paid the pharmacy.
Left seventy dollars in checking.
For the first time in months, breathing felt slightly easier.
At 3:02, he entered Reed Mobility.
Glass.
Steel.
Quiet wealth.
People wore badges that opened doors automatically.
Henry’s only good shirt suddenly looked cheap.
Alexandra met him at the elevator.
“You came.”
“I said I would.”
“I’m learning that matters to you.”
“Yes.”
The elevator doors opened.
Employees watched.
Alexandra led him through the engineering floor.
Screens everywhere.
Prototype modules.
Battery control rigs.
Test logs.
Henry’s pulse changed.
He had forgotten this feeling.
Not envy.
Recognition.
He belonged in rooms like this.
Or once had.
Alexandra noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You look different.”
“Do I?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Awake.”
Henry looked toward her.
“That sounded insulting.”
“It was meant as a compliment.”
“Needs work.”
She smiled.
Conference room.
Technical files.
Access credentials.
Then the door opened.
Corbin Ashford entered.
Forty-five.
Perfect suit.
Controlled expression.
The kind of man who looked as if his reflection had been approved by legal counsel.
“Alexandra.”
“Corbin.”
His eyes moved toward Henry.
“And this is?”
“Henry Carter.”
Corbin’s face barely changed.
Barely.
Henry noticed.
Alexandra said:
“External consultant.”
“On what authority?”
“Mine.”
Corbin smiled.
“Of course.”
He offered Henry a hand.
“Welcome.”
Henry shook.
Corbin’s grip tightened slightly.
Recognition.