Chapter 2

Half an hour later.

The door of the meeting room swung open, and the supervisor shot to his feet.

When he saw who it was — Frank James, the Riverton official overseeing education — he rushed forward with a hurried smile. "Sir, this is... Ms. Marianne Finch."

Frank James was in his early fifties, his hair combed without a single strand out of place.

He didn't so much as glance at the supervisor. Instead he crossed the room in long strides, straight to me.

He held out his hand first, his voice as warm as some kindly uncle from next door. "Hello, Miss Finch. I'm Frank James. Sorry to keep you waiting."

I stood and shook his hand. "Hello, Director James. Thank you for coming all this way. I'm sorry to put you to the trouble."

"No trouble at all, none. This is exactly what we should be doing." Frank turned and shot a look at the supervisor, still rooted to the spot and staring blankly, and his voice dropped hard.

"What happened here? How was Riverton University's admissions vetting handled this year? How could a lapse this serious slip through?"

The supervisor went white and hurried to explain. "Sir, it's the Gilbert family, they—"

"What about the Gilbert family? Does the Gilbert name put them above the law?" Frank cut him off sharply.

"Call the president of Riverton University right now. Tell him to be here within half an hour. And — have him bring Teresa Fox, Oliver Gilbert, and everyone involved in admissions with him."

"Yes, sir!" The supervisor didn't dare say another word. He grabbed his phone and hurried out to make the call.

For a moment, only Frank and I were left in the meeting room.

The air turned a little awkward.

Then Frank weighed his words, and added with a smile, "Miss Finch, rest assured. We'll get to the bottom of this, all of it."

I nodded. "Thank you, Director James. I trust the authorities will see justice done for me."

The truth was, I already knew: I didn't even need to wait for my father to respond. Mission code 257 alone meant no one in Riverton would dare drag their feet by so much as an inch.

Twenty years ago, when the Northwest research base was first built, my father went into the desert.

That place was a top-tier classified research base.

The people who came out of it, and their families, all had their status specially registered.

The moment anything happened to a family member, the entire Riverton system had to move.

That was why, the instant this happened, I'd gone straight to the public complaints office to file the report.

Oliver Gilbert wanted to use power to pin me down. Fine. Let's see whether the great Gilbert heir could really hold me down.