Chapter 91

Surprise flickered across Rylie's features, her laughter breaking the silence that had followed her initial shock.Sunlight streamed down, bathing her in warmth and lending her an almost glowing vibrance.

The sight left Brad completely spellbound. He couldn't look away from her infectious grin, losing his train of thought for a heartbeat.

In a playful gesture, Rylie lifted the food box and held out a piece of the mysteriouslant roonudging it toward his lips. "Mr. Morgan, are you brave enough to taste this?"

Before he realized what was happening, Brad's reflexes had already betrayed him-he opened his mouth and took a bite.

The flavor hit instantly, an odd mix flooding his palate. His face contorted, as though he had chewed on something both musty and pungent, with the unmistakable tang of spoiled fish.

A deep frown etched across his brow, Brad fought the urge to spit it out. His visible discomfort drew a barely contained snicker from Rylie. "This is fish mint. One of the servants picked it up fresh at the market.It's a lot better with meat, don't you think?"

Pressing his knuckles against his mouth, Brad stifled a cough and managed to whisper, "Please... water..."

Amused, Rylie noticed the flush in his cheeks and quickly passed him a glass. "Is it really that awful?"

He grabbed the water and gulped it in one go, Adam's apple working and sweat popping out on his forehead. Once he caught his breath, he muttered, "You'd have to be fearless to wvillingly eat something like that."

With mischief dancing in her eyes, Rylie twirled another piece between her fingers. "Care to risk it again?"

Brad instinctively backed away. Normally composed in every negotiation, he now looked thoroughly rattled by a simple herb. He watched her playful expression, then, in a sudden move, he reached out and caught her wrist.

"If you're such a fan..." With a swift tug, he drew her close, his other hand bracing on the counter, hemming her in. "Maybe you should have a little more."

Rylie, stunned by the sudden closeness, found herself pressed against him. The scent of antiseptic and clean linen filled her senses as she lifted her gaze to meet his, their faces nearly touching. The spoon she'd been holding slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor.

Lowering his head until their lips nearly brushed, Brad let his breath linger between them. "What's wrong?Have you lost your nerve?"

Out of nowhere, a piercing alarm blared through the lab, making both of them jump. In a heartbeat,Rylie used the distraction to wriggle free, instantly cutting the moment short. "The Petri dish-it's overheating!"

Her quick dash to the workstation looked more like a getaway than a concern for her experiment.

Brad stayed rooted to the spot, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth, the odd tang of fish mint refusing to fade. For some reason, he realized the aftertaste had started to grow on him.

He called her name out of the blue,"Rylie."

"What is it?" she answered without glancing back.

With casual confidence, Brad rolled his cuff and suggested, "I haven't had lunch. Once you're finished here,let's grab something to eat."

"No, I'll pass. My neighbor prepared a meal just for me, and I won't let it go to waste."

Rylie continued, "Besides, I have other plans this afternoon. If you're that hungry, you can go on your own."

He couldn't help himself. "So what's keeping you busy?"

A sigh slipped from Rylie as she glanced over her shoulder, weighing whether to answer or brush him off.She finally said, "There's an academic event at the university. They're handing out awards this afternoon,and my name's on the list."

A flicker of amusement crossed Brad's face, though a hint of genuine surprise lingered in his voice."So you found time for a paper on top of everything else?"

While adjusting the temperature of the Petri dish, Rylie nonchalantly replied, "Pulled a few late nights last week. Wrote about breakthroughs in neural regeneration."

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After a beat, she added, "Actually, I analyzed some of your samples for it."

The news caught Brad off guard. His eyes narrowed, a faint glint of suspicion appearing as he considered her words.

He moved closer, his presence quietly looming, and spoke in a low tone. "Let me get this straight. My lab results are part of your ticket to the stage?"

Her hands paused mid-task. She straightened, facing him directly. "Nothing wrong with making use of what's available. NNo names, no details-nobody will trace anything back to you."

Only the soft, mechanical whir of the incubator broke the quiet that followed.

With a half-smile, Brad mimicked her earlier gesture, tipping her chin with one finger.,Dr. Owen,does that mean you owe me a share if you cash in?"

She swatted his hand away, shooting him a look. "Pretty sure saving your hide was payment enough."

A real laugh escaped him, quick and easy, and she felt a little jolt somewhere deep inside."Guess you're right. My life's in your debt, and so's a little blood."

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and straightened his sleeves. "Tell me the details for the ceremony.I'll handle the ride."

Before Rylie could object, Brad was already holding out her coat, his stance by the door firm and expectant,shutting down any protest.

Impatience colored his voice as he checked his watch."Let's go. Linger much longer and you'll end up missing your big debut."

Exiting the lab, Rylie trailed behind, watching sunlight scatter in patterns across the polished corridor floor.A quick glance at her phone assured her there was still a good thirty minutes before the ceremony kicked off.

Brad's car was parked outside the building, a sleek, luxurious black Bentley, its smooth lines gleaming coldly under the sun.

He pulled open the passenger door with a practiced motion. As Rylie slipped into the car, a faint,familiar trace of antiseptic reached her nose-the same subtle scent she always noticed on Brad's lab coat.

As he settled in behind the wheel, Brad threw a sideways look her way. "Nervous?"

A light laugh escaped her. "It's just an academic write-up, hardly enough to make me break a sweat."

By the time they reached the medical college, the conference hall was bustling. Rows of seats were filled,and a massive LED screen kept cycling through the list of featured research - Rylie's entry, "Novel Discoveries and Clinical Applications of Neuroregenerative Factors," flashed boldly across the display.

Inside, she felt the weight of attention settle over her-eyes tracked her movements, some openly curious,others edged with skepticism, and a few looked downright unfriendly.

A whisper, heavy with mockery, floated from a cluster of students. "Isn't that Rylie Kirk?"

Someone else murmured, "Didn't you hear? She's involved with the Owen family now. Gossip travels fast,doesn't it?"

All around her, conversations burst forth, voices rising and overlapping in a sudden clamor.

A familiar voice called out, "Rylie, I didn't think l'd see you at this event."

She pivoted to face the speaker and found Stacey standing amid a group of Timothy's old lab colleagues,their company elevated by the presence of a distinguished professor. Stacey wore her usual fragile charm,the sort that seemed to draw sympathy wherever she went.

Skipping over Stacey entirely, Rylie let her gaze land on the man beside her-Stetson Ahmed, the medical school's associate dean. "Mr. Ahmed," she called out, her tone even.

A small nod acknowledged her. "Rumor has it you wrote this paper alone," Stetson said. "You managed to outshine entire teams with faculty mentors backing them. Quite the feat."

Her reply was reserved. "I appreciate the kind words."

Stetson offered a few more words of encouragement. "Best of luck in the results."

In his mind, this was surely the high point of a recent graduate's career. Getting her name on the shortlist had to be sheer fortune, no matter the effort or talent. As for taking home a real award, especially for a topic so ambitious? He doubted it. The judges probably just liked her boldness enough to give her a mention.