The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 80

"That's exactly right, but there isn't enough evidence to officially classify it as arson. For now, it has to be treated as an accident..."

Garrison fell silent for a moment before suddenly speaking up. "Professor Sterling, Dean Quinton, have either of you considered... could this be the work of Knox Biotechs?"

"Knox?"

Lawrence looked up, a subtle, sharp glint flashing through his eyes.

"The White Microbe."

Garrison's voice grew dark. "They've held a monopoly on it for years. If our trial succeeds, their market dominance will take a massive hit. Last night's gala had members from both project teams. If they caused a huge scene, or even injured people, the whole expedition could have been permanently grounded."

Zachary nodded with a heavy expression. "We've considered that possibility. But investigations require hard proof. Until we have evidence, we can't jump to conclusions..."

"Garrison's suspicions are well-founded." Lawrence stayed quiet for a few seconds before slowly speaking. "I'll have a word with the investigation team and steer them in that direction. Also..." He looked at Garrison, his gaze filled with caution and worry. "Garrison, if it really is Knox Biotechs, you need to watch your back. We both know how ruthless those people can be when they want something..."

"I understand." Garrison nodded. "Don't worry, Professor."

"Good, let's leave it at that for now. It's late, and you've had a long day. Go get some rest," Lawrence advised.

Garrison stood up to leave.

Just then, Zachary suddenly remembered something and called out. "By the way, Garrison, how is... Ms. Taylor doing?"

Garrison paused. His face revealed absolutely nothing. "She's fine. It was just temporary unconsciousness from inhaling too much smoke. She just needs a few days of rest."

"That's a relief..."

Zachary let out a breath. "Speaking of which, Ms. Taylor is a true hero. If it wasn't for her, the consequences would have been catastrophic..."

"Ms. Taylor?"

Lawrence suddenly interjected. His voice remained warm, but laced with curiosity.

Garrison bowed his head slightly. "I'll take my leave now."

*

Sloane checked out of the hospital early the next morning.

By the time the nurse came for rounds, the bed was empty, the sheets were neatly folded, and a note rested on the bedside table. "Thank you for the care. I'm completely fine. Don't worry."

Garrison received the call while he was doing his rounds. He gripped his phone tightly, remaining silent for three solid seconds before uttering a single, "Got it," and hanging up.

No one knew what was going through his mind.

Over the next month, Sloane buried herself completely in brutal, high-intensity training.

She woke up at five o'clock every morning to do underwater endurance drills in the pool. Her afternoons were strictly dedicated to physical conditioning—running, core strength exercises, and weighted treks. At night, she immersed herself in mountains of polar expedition data, studying Antarctic weather patterns, ice formations, and emergency protocols.