My hands were shaking, but I forced myself to check my work email to distract my mind.

Among the automated alerts about my research, a new notification caught my eye.

It was from the Laurentian Science Foundation.

*Regarding Grant Proposal #409: Status Update.*

I clicked it open.

The review board had cleared my project on Great Lakes agricultural runoff to the final stage.

If approved, it was a three-million-dollar independent grant.

It would mean I didn’t need a single cent of Blake’s money to run my lab or support my family.

I closed the tab as Blake sat down across from me, a tablet in his hand.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“For what?”

“To tell them the truth.”

The flight to Chicago was short and tense.

The sky over Lake Michigan was a flat, icy blue as we began our descent.

We landed at Midway, taxiing to a private hangar where a small camera crew was already waiting.

Blake had bypassed his corporate PR team entirely.

He had hired an independent local broadcast crew to set up a live feed.

We walked into the hangar’s conference room.