“I am very proud of you, Evelyn,” he said, taking a step toward me.

I gripped the edges of the wooden podium, my knuckles turning white.

“What did Hunter mean?” I asked.

Arthur stopped, his hand resting on the back of a cushioned chair.

“Hunter is a desperate man,” Arthur said, his voice remaining low and steady. “He is looking for anyone to blame for his own failures.”

“He said you paid for the new campus lab,” I said.

The rain began to tap against the high windows of the hall, a grey light filtering through the glass.

“I did,” Arthur said. “The Hayes Foundation made a generous contribution to the chemistry department last year.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because the university needed the upgrade, and we wanted to support your field,” he said.

“And the patents?” I asked, my voice rising. “Who owns my research, Dad?”

Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver pen, turning it slowly between his fingers.

“The university owns the initial filing, as of this morning,” he said.

“But?” I pressed.