Chapter 63
Chapter 63:
The marketing team was suggesting pop stars and influencers.
“No,” a voice came from the speakerphone.
The screen displayed a generic avatar. It was Aurora, calling in remotely to protect her identity from the lower-level staff.
“Pop stars fade,” Aurora’s voice was distorted but firm. “We need intellect. We need the Yinn Institute p>
The room went silent.
“Professor Yinn?” Mike, the newly hired Marketing Consultant, scoffed. He was an external hire, arrogant and dismissive of the unseen ‘Phoenix’ shareholder. “She’s a Nobel scholar. She hates commercialism. She’s never done an ad in her life. Why are we listening to a voice on a speaker p>
“She represents strategy,” Aurora said, ignoring his tone. “She fits the game. We target Yinn p>
Victor trusted Aurora blindly now. “Okay. We target Yinn p>
At Thorne Industries, Sterling was looking at the same market analysis.
“If we get Yinn for Celestial Dominion, we lock down the educational market,” his advisors said. “Her endorsement is the gold standard p>
Sterling smirked. He leaned back in his chair. “The Thornes have donated to her institute for twenty years. She owes us. Get me a meeting p>
Back at the hospital, Charles Yinn was reviewing grainy footage on a tablet.
The savior’s face was obscured by a cap and sunglasses, but the glint of the needles was unmistakable.
“Offer a reward,” Catherine commanded from the bed. “Anyone with information p>
𝓥𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭:
An hour later, the news broke.
PROFESSOR YINN SEEKS MYSTERY SAVIOR: “THE GIRL WITH THE GOLD NEEDLES”
Sterling saw the news on the TV in his office. He laughed. “A savior? Probably some unlicensed doctor looking for a payout p>
He dismissed it, focusing on the contract.
Aurora saw the news on her phone while sitting in her penthouse. She paused, her thumb hovering over the screen.
“She’s looking for me,” Aurora muttered.
She could call. She could claim the reward. She could get the endorsement instantly.
But that was too easy. And too risky. If she revealed herself as the doctor, Sterling would dig. He would find the connection.
“Not yet,” Aurora whispered. She turned off the phone.
The race for Yinn’s signature had begun, and Sterling had no idea the finish line was already rigged.
The smell of tuna casserole filled the Obsidian Tower Penthouse. It was a strange scent for a multi-million dollar apartment, but Arthur Vance insisted on cooking for his “celebration dinner.” He had invited a few of his old friends from the Bronx—Mrs. Gable from 4B and Mr. Henderson from the bodega.
They sat on the Italian leather sofa, holding paper plates and looking out at the skyline with wide eyes.