I pulled it out and looked at the screen.

It was an unknown number, but the area code was from Washington, D.C.

“Do not answer that,” Helen said, reaching out to grab my wrist.

I pulled my hand back, out of her reach.

I looked at the screen as it continued to flash.

Then, the tablet in Priya’s hand let out a sharp chime.

“Dr. Mitchell,” Priya said, her voice rising an octave.

“Look.”

She held up the screen again.

The draft article had just refreshed.

The headline had changed.

The new headline stared back at us in bold, black letters.

“Federal Regulators Probe Mitchell Holdings Over Solar Reach Intellectual Property.”

Priya’s thumb trembled slightly against the edge of the glass screen.

The room became very quiet, save for the hum of the refrigeration unit in the corner.

My mother leaned forward, her eyes scanning the screen.

The color drained from her face, leaving her makeup looking like a pale mask.

“This is a lie,” Helen said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

She looked at Derek, whose hand had frozen on his silk tie.