If this batch went to manufacturing, it would poison thousands of consumers.

And because my name was still listed as the lead intern on the development logs, the blame would fall entirely on me.

My phone suddenly buzzed on the desk beside me.

The screen lit up with an unknown number.

I hesitated, then picked it up.

“Hello?” I said, my voice barely a whisper in the silent laboratory.

There was a brief pause, then a soft, mocking laugh on the other end of the line.

“Elila,” a smooth, cultured voice said. “I didn’t expect you to still be working so late.”

My stomach dropped.

It was Victoria Sterling.

“What do you want, Victoria?” I asked, gripping the plastic casing of the phone tighter.

“Just checking on our favorite intern,” she said, her voice dripping with false warmth. “You really shouldn’t be staying in that dusty old lab in your condition.”

My hand went cold.

She knew about the pregnancy.

“I’m finishing up my work,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I have to go.”

“Don’t work too hard,” Victoria said, then the line went dead.