Page 55

He blinks once. Twice. He takes off his glasses, wipes them frantically on his tie, puts them back on, and leans so close to the paper his nose nearly touches the ink.

"Ten... ten million dollars?" Hobson’s voice cracks, shooting up into a reedy, breathless squeak. "From the... the Estrella Trust?"

Cole’s head jerks around. "What? What are you talking about?"

"It's a capital endowment, Dr. Hobson," I explain, fighting the urge to do a little victory shimmy. "To establish the Estrella Endowment for Historical Integrity. It fully funds all graduate tuition in this department for the next ten years, provides cost-of-living stipends with comprehensive medical benefits so your adjuncts don't have to choose between groceries and rent, and finances the construction of a new archival research wing. The university trustees approved the gift provisionally via telephone twenty minutes ago."

Hobson looks like he’s about to faint. Sweat beads along his forehead. A fawning smile begins to spread across his face, his tone doing a complete one-eighty.

"Vivienne... my dear girl," he breathes, his hands shaking as he touches the edge of the check. "I... we had no idea of your family’s... your philanthropic standing. This is magnificent. Truly historic. Of course, the misunderstanding yesterday—we can convene the board immediately to reinstate⁠—"

"Turn the page, Dr. Hobson." I sing out the words.

The smile freezes on Hobson’s lips.

He turns the check over to reveal the three-page contract beneath it.

"Clause Four," I tell him, tapping the edge of the desk with one nail. "The endowment is legally contingent upon an immediate, independent forensic audit of all active dissertations, grant proposals, and conference keynotes submitted in this department over the last two years. Handled by an external arbitration panel from the American Historical Association."

Beside him, Cole goes completely white.

"Every citation," I continue, letting my voice drop, finally letting a fraction of my absolute disgust bleed into my tone. "Every translation. Every scrap of scratch paper and primary source ledger. To be submitted to the panel within forty-eight hours."

I turn my head, looking directly at Cole for the first time since I walked into the room.

He looks like he’s about to vomit. His hands are gripping his leather portfolio so tightly the leather is creasing, his eyes wide and bloodshot with sudden, suffocating panic.

"If any researcher is found to have claimed uncredited work," I say, holding Cole’s gaze and smiling sweetly, "their candidacy is revoked. Their degree is denied. Their funding is canceled, and they are permanently expelled from the university. And if the department fails to enforce that clause within forty-eight hours, the check bounces back to my trust and the university is sued for breach of contract."

"Vivienne," Cole chokes out, his voice a frantic, strangled whisper. "Viv, please. Let's talk about this. Outside. Just you and me⁠—"

He starts to stand.

He makes it three inches off the cushion before Lachlan takes one single, heavy step forward.

The floorboards groan. Lachlan leans down slightly, his eyes flaring with a flash of gold, a low vibration starting in his chest that rattles the framed diplomas hanging on Hobson’s wall.

"Sit down," Lachlan says.

It isn't loud.

It’s worse for how quiet it is.

I stifle a laugh.

Cole drops back into the chair like his strings have been cut. He presses his knees together, fuming, but not daring to look Lachlan in the eye.

I look back at Hobson, who is staring at the contract like it’s a live grenade with the pin pulled.

"The symposium is next month, Dr. Hobson," I say mildly. "History Across the Delaware.' I believe Mr. Gibson was scheduled to deliver the keynote on pre-colonial secret societies using Latin church ledgers he allegedly translated himself."

Hobson looks between the check for ten million dollars and the terrified boy sweating through his blazer in the guest chair.

In academia, morals are cheap, but funding is sacred.

Hobson swallows hard, his collar visibly choking him. "I... I see. Of course, the department holds itself to the highest standards of academic integrity. The audit will be initiated... immediately."

"Good." I pull a ballpoint pen from my coat pocket and set it gently on top of the contract. "Sign it."