The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 313

Landing in San Francisco, he grabbed a cab and headed straight to the rendezvous point.

The car pulled up to an office building wrapped in a sleek, silver-gray glass facade. Dawson was already pacing frantically by the entrance. The winter air was damp and biting, the kind of chill that seeped straight into the bones. Dawson stood with his hands shoved deep into his puffer jacket pockets, shrinking his neck and stamping his feet. The second he saw Garrison step out of the cab, he sprinted over.

"Dr. Foster! Over here!"

Dawson's face was a mess of barely contained excitement and nervous energy. "They're all waiting upstairs. The samples are prepped."

He led Garrison through the brightly lit lobby and into the elevator.

As the floor numbers ticked upward, Dawson fired off a rapid status report. "They ran three pilot batches. The first didn't meet the encapsulation threshold. The second had too much variance in particle size. But this third batch—they just got the lab data back last night. The encapsulation rate hit over 94%. I made sure they prepped all the raw diagnostic data and the clinical trial volunteer reports for your personal review."

The elevator chimed at the eighteenth floor.

The doors slid open, revealing a frosted glass door at the end of the hall. Mounted on the wall beside it was a brushed stainless steel plaque: Holloway Bio-Pharma.

It wasn't a massive conglomerate, but it was universally recognized as an industry titan in nanoliposome encapsulation technology.

Pushing through the glass doors, the receptionist, who had already been alerted to their arrival, immediately escorted them to a conference room. A young man in a sharp navy suit was already waiting at the far end of a long table. He was in his late twenties, with a crisp, short haircut that made him look sharp and attentive.

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