Chapter 3: Four Words
The four words were: "You owe me this."
Nobody breathed.
Professor Shaw looked at Lila the way you look at something that has just revealed its true shape.
The woman from the Research Integrity Office — she had introduced herself as Dr.
Renata Voss — wrote something in the margin of her folder without looking up.
"I owe you," I said slowly.
"Can you explain that?"
"Everything I did—" Lila stopped.
Started again.
"You wouldn't even be here without me.
I covered for you for years.
I made excuses to Mom and Dad when you were always studying, always gone, always too important to come to dinner or help with anything.
And now you're about to make millions and you weren't even going to tell us."
"The research isn't worth millions yet," I said.
"And it isn't yours."
"It could be worth millions.
That's the same thing."
"It really isn't."
Dad pushed back from the table.
"Lila has a point.
This is a family matter.
Whatever you've built, you built it living under this roof.
We supported you."
Professor Shaw set his hand flat on the table.
"Mr.—"
"I'm her father."
"I understand that.
I'm her doctoral advisor.
And what I need you to understand is that what happened this morning — the account breach three months ago, the missing phone, the broken equipment on the day of a scheduled defense — these are not family matters.
They are potentially criminal ones."
Mom made a sound.
Not a word.
Just a sound, like something small collapsing.
"Criminal," Dad repeated.
He said it the way people say a word they've never needed before.
"The access logs show that someone used a device registered to this household to attempt entry into the university's secure research archive," Dr.
Voss said.
She was still writing.
"Twice.
The second attempt partially succeeded.
A read-only copy of the preliminary patent documentation was opened for eleven minutes."
Lila's jaw moved but nothing came out.
"The IP address," I said, "is the router in this house."
"You can't prove I did that," Lila said.
Her voice had gone thin and high.
"Anyone could have used the WiFi."
"The device ID matches a laptop registered in your name," Dr.
Voss said.
"We confirmed that this morning before we came."
Lila turned to Mom.
"Are you going to let them talk to me like this?"
Mom looked at the table.
That was its own kind of answer.
"I want a lawyer," Lila said.
"That's your right," Dr.
Voss said.
"We're not here to question you formally.
We're here to notify your sister that the protocol was triggered, to document the environment, and to escort her to campus so the defense can proceed."
Lila's head snapped toward me.
"You're still going?"
"That was always the plan," I said.
"Your glasses are broken."
Professor Shaw reached into his jacket pocket and placed a spare pair on the table in front of me.
Simple frames.
Not mine.
But close enough.
"I keep a spare," he said.
"In case."
I put them on.
The room sharpened.
Lila was standing against the counter in her silk robe, and for the first time that morning she looked exactly like what she was: someone who had miscalculated badly and was only now beginning to understand how badly.
"This isn't over," she said.
I picked up my bag from the chair by the door.
"No," I agreed.
"It isn't."
I followed Professor Shaw and Dr.
Voss out.
Behind me, I heard my father say something to my mother in a low voice.
I heard my mother not answer.
The door closed.
The morning air was cold and clear.
I got into Professor Shaw's car and we drove toward the university without speaking for several minutes.
Then he said: "How are you?"
"Ask me in four hours," I said.
He nodded.
May you like
He understood that.
What neither of us knew yet was that Lila had made one more move before we arrived — and that it was already waiting for us at the department.
