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Story: Claimed By Four Alphas
Chapter 1 - Dahlia
"What do you mean my funding has been cut? That's not possible. I just got the grant renewed last month!" I press my phone harder against my ear and pace the length of my cramped lab while Dr. Matteo fumbles through excuses at the other end.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Baldwin. We have some budget constraints, and this came directly from the board. There's nothing I can do."
"Bullshit." The word flies out before I can stop it. "This is about my research, isn't it? Someone's scared I'm getting too close. My lab was just broken into, and now this is it."
His silence tells me everything.
"Eighty percent, Matteo. You’re cutting off eighty percent of my funding. The twenty left won’t even be enough to run basic equipment, let alone continue the virus trials."
"Perhaps you should consider... alternative funding sources."
The way he says it makes my skin crawl.
"Like Blackthorn Biotech?" I ask.
He doesn't respond.
"You know what? Forget it. I'll handle this myself."
I hang up and slam my phone onto the lab bench, making my beakers rattle. My research assistant Emily jumps, nearly dropping a petri dish.
"Bad news?" She asks.
"The worst kind." I grab my blazer off the back of my chair. "I'll be back in a few hours. Don't touch the centrifuge samples."
I'm out the door before she can respond. I know exactly who's behind this. The same man who's been circling my research like a shark for months, waiting for me to bleed in the water.
Evan fucking Blackthorn.
Forty minutes later, I'm storming through the gleaming glass doors of Blackthorn Biotech's headquarters, a sixty-storymonument to corporate greed disguised as scientific innovation. The receptionist, a perfectly dressed blonde with alarmed eyes, starts to rise from her seat.
"Ma'am, you need an appointment to…"
I blow past her toward the private elevator I know leads to the executive floor. Security starts moving in my direction, but I've already pressed the button. The elevator doors slide shut just as security reaches them. I jab the button for the top floor, as my heart hammers against my ribs.
Evan's assistant, Oliver, I think his name is, nearly falls out of his chair when I burst through the double doors of the executive suite.
"Dr. Baldwin! Mr. Blackthorn is not ready to receive any guests…"
"Yes, he is." I push past him and throw open Evan's office door so hard it bangs against the wall.
Evan sits behind his ridiculous glass desk, phone to his ear, looking like he's posing for a "Billionaires Monthly" cover shoot. His eyes widen slightly at my entrance before his expression settles into an infuriating smirk.
"I'll call you back," he says smoothly onto the phone before setting it down. "Dr. Baldwin. What an unexpected pleasure."
"Cut the crap, Mr. Blackthorn." I slam my hands on his desk, leaning forward. "Did you get my funding cut?"
He leans back in his chair, studying me with those icy blue eyes.Focus Dahlia. You hate this man.
"You know, most people make appointments."
"Most people did not have their life's work sabotaged by a pompous jerk."
He laughs a deep, genuine, and utterly infuriating sound. "You're still the same Dahlia. How I have missed you."
"Answer the question damn question. Did you do this?"
"What do you mean my funding has been cut? That's not possible. I just got the grant renewed last month!" I press my phone harder against my ear and pace the length of my cramped lab while Dr. Matteo fumbles through excuses at the other end.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Baldwin. We have some budget constraints, and this came directly from the board. There's nothing I can do."
"Bullshit." The word flies out before I can stop it. "This is about my research, isn't it? Someone's scared I'm getting too close. My lab was just broken into, and now this is it."
His silence tells me everything.
"Eighty percent, Matteo. You’re cutting off eighty percent of my funding. The twenty left won’t even be enough to run basic equipment, let alone continue the virus trials."
"Perhaps you should consider... alternative funding sources."
The way he says it makes my skin crawl.
"Like Blackthorn Biotech?" I ask.
He doesn't respond.
"You know what? Forget it. I'll handle this myself."
I hang up and slam my phone onto the lab bench, making my beakers rattle. My research assistant Emily jumps, nearly dropping a petri dish.
"Bad news?" She asks.
"The worst kind." I grab my blazer off the back of my chair. "I'll be back in a few hours. Don't touch the centrifuge samples."
I'm out the door before she can respond. I know exactly who's behind this. The same man who's been circling my research like a shark for months, waiting for me to bleed in the water.
Evan fucking Blackthorn.
Forty minutes later, I'm storming through the gleaming glass doors of Blackthorn Biotech's headquarters, a sixty-storymonument to corporate greed disguised as scientific innovation. The receptionist, a perfectly dressed blonde with alarmed eyes, starts to rise from her seat.
"Ma'am, you need an appointment to…"
I blow past her toward the private elevator I know leads to the executive floor. Security starts moving in my direction, but I've already pressed the button. The elevator doors slide shut just as security reaches them. I jab the button for the top floor, as my heart hammers against my ribs.
Evan's assistant, Oliver, I think his name is, nearly falls out of his chair when I burst through the double doors of the executive suite.
"Dr. Baldwin! Mr. Blackthorn is not ready to receive any guests…"
"Yes, he is." I push past him and throw open Evan's office door so hard it bangs against the wall.
Evan sits behind his ridiculous glass desk, phone to his ear, looking like he's posing for a "Billionaires Monthly" cover shoot. His eyes widen slightly at my entrance before his expression settles into an infuriating smirk.
"I'll call you back," he says smoothly onto the phone before setting it down. "Dr. Baldwin. What an unexpected pleasure."
"Cut the crap, Mr. Blackthorn." I slam my hands on his desk, leaning forward. "Did you get my funding cut?"
He leans back in his chair, studying me with those icy blue eyes.Focus Dahlia. You hate this man.
"You know, most people make appointments."
"Most people did not have their life's work sabotaged by a pompous jerk."
He laughs a deep, genuine, and utterly infuriating sound. "You're still the same Dahlia. How I have missed you."
"Answer the question damn question. Did you do this?"
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