He answered on the third ring.

“Emma,” Dr. Thorne said. “I watched the live stream of the press conference.”

“Then you know the situation,” I said.

“I know that you are a brilliant scientist who has been dragged through the mud,” he said.

“My research on the chemical runoff in the Illinois basin is solid,” I said. “I did not publish it to hurt Harrington Energies. I published it because the water was poisoned.”

“We know that,” Thorne said. “Our board met this morning. We want to offer you the senior director position for the basin restoration project.”

I sat up straighter in the leather seat.

“Does that include the independent laboratory funding?” I asked.

“Yes,” Thorne said. “An annual budget of four million dollars, guaranteed for five years. Fully independent of any corporate oversight. And a personal salary that will ensure you never have to look for consulting work again.”

I closed my eyes.

The relief was a physical weight leaving my shoulders.

For years, I had scraped by on small academic contracts.

I had worried about every grocery bill, every pair of shoes for the boys.