The red line continued to blink, casting a rhythmic crimson glow across his knuckles.

“Arthur, are you there?” Dr. Sterling’s voice sounded thinner over the speaker, stripped of its usual academic warmth.

“I am here, William,” my father said, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register.

“Evelyn is with me.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.

“She knows,” Dr. Sterling said.

“She knows about the patent transfer.”

“She knows everything,” I said, leaning forward so my voice would carry into the microphone.

The silence that followed was heavy.

I could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning in Dr. Sterling’s office, miles away on the campus.

“Evelyn,” Dr. Sterling said, his tone shifting to something mimicking pity.

“You must understand the position the university was in.”

“You bypassed the committee.”

“I did what was necessary to protect the integrity of the research,” I said.

My hands were clenched into fists inside my coat pockets.

“You stole my life’s work and handed it to my husband.”

“It was a joint venture, Evelyn,” Dr. Sterling insisted.