Priya raised an eyebrow. “With Marcus?”

“Yes.”

Marcus was our toughest field supervisor, a former Navy mechanic who had zero patience for academic credentials.

“Marcus will break him in three days,” Priya said.

“If he breaks, then he doesn’t belong here,” I said. “And it’s safer for him to find that out now.”

Priya sighed, opening her tablet. “We have more immediate problems. The board members are asking for a demonstration of the new microgrid system next week.”

“The prototype is ready,” I said.

“The hardware is, yes,” she said. “But the software integration is still unstable. If we have a failure during the live demonstration, the board will look at other options.”

“They are already looking,” I said. “My mother has been whispering in the ears of at least two directors.”

“Arthur called my desk earlier,” Priya added, her voice softening slightly.

I looked at her. “My father?”

“He didn’t leave a message for you,” she said. “He just asked if you were eating. He sounded… tired.”

“He always sounds tired,” I said, looking out the window at the Stanford foothills in the distance.