It's July 15th, 2022, and Sarah Walker has finally scored her dream job—working with dolphins at the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute. Socially awkward and academically driven, Sarah's never found love—but when she meets a tech genius whose inventions have the chance to make her research a reality, she finds herself falling for him. Together, their work could change the world … that is, unless someone else gets hold of it first.

Disclaimer: We don't own Chuck…

Chapter 16: Stormy Waters

Sarah felt like she was floating. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so happy.

Being with Chuck was incredible—and working alongside him as their mutual project bore fruit, even more so. It felt like they were on the verge of making yet another scientific breakthrough—maybe even making history, as cheesy as that was to say. After years of doubters and naysayers, people mocking her work behind her back and to her face, Sarah felt as if her faith in this project was about to be validated. She wished she could reach back through the years and talk to little Sarah, drifting in the ocean on her raft, and tell her about this day—that no matter what she might have to endure through the years, something wonderful was waiting up ahead.

This morning, the day after their successful test—despite having consumed far too many celebratory drinks the night before—they were back at the Aquarium at nine, ready to go again. Dr. Beckman had closed the dolphin exhibit to the public, giving them the privacy they needed to work with Finn, Echo, and Eden without distractions.

The mood on the dive platform could only be described as buoyant. Even Casey was smiling—such an unfamiliar expression, Sarah had to refrain from commenting on it. Whatever issue Ellie had seemed to have with Chuck the day before had been resolved—it must've just been a sibling thing. The two of them were getting along as well as ever, elated at their progress and excited to see what the day's work would bring. Even the deep freeze between Laszlo and Lou seemed to have thawed, aided in no small part by the cosmos Lou had downed at Segovia's. She spared a glance for the two of them—Laszlo had picked up coffee en route to the Aquarium and was offering one to Lou, which the petite trainer accepted with a smile. Seeing this made Sarah smile in return. She wanted everyone to be as happy as she was.

Turning her attention away from the two of them, she focused on Chuck, who was striding across the dive platform toward her, a determined look on his face. "Um, Sarah," he said, "I need to give you something."

Her eyebrows knitted. He had nothing in his hand but his phone. "What's that?" she asked, taking a sip of her own coffee. After the three margaritas she'd had the night before, the caffeine hit her bloodstream like an elixir.

"I…" He came to a stop in front of her. "I … um … I want to give you administrative control over Morgan."

A hush fell over the platform. Sarah hadn't thought Chuck was speaking that loudly—but the platform wasn't huge, and aside from Lou's conversation with Laszlo, everyone had been busy setting up for the day. Chuck's statement fell into the room like a stone, heavy with import.

"You what?" she said, gaping up at him.

"I'll second that." Laszlo had turned away from Lou and was staring at Chuck, shock stamped on his features. "You … what?"

Chuck shrugged, projecting nonchalance. "Morgan's all tied up with this project. If Sarah's gonna be in control of …" He cleared his throat. "If she's really going to be able to run this project the way she needs to, she needs to be able to operate Morgan. She can't depend on me to do it—that's not fair to her."

Sarah struggled to find the right words. "That's incredibly generous, Chuck, but—it's too much. Laszlo's right—you're basically handing me your life's work. I would never expect that. There's no need for this … we'll figure out another way."

He shook his head again, looking mulish. "There's nothing out there as powerful as Morgan, Sarah. Without it, none of this would work. Everything hinges on its AI. You need it to continue your research, and much as I'd love nothing more than to spend every moment by your side"—he gave her a shy grin—"that's not always going to be feasible. The only solution is to let you control it yourself."

She looked up, into his eyes. They were fixed on hers, pellucid with intelligence and filled with intent. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, other than yes. Oh, and you'll have to give Morgan full access to your phone and laptop—it'll need that, in order to work. I know that seems a little invasive, but its AI operates based on pattern recognition—your patterns. If you cut it off from your two primary sources of communication, it won't be nearly as effective."

Self-conscious, Sarah glanced around the dive platform. Everyone was staring at the two of them. She'd been worried that she felt more for Chuck than he did for her—that no matter what he'd said, moving to Monterey was a pipe dream that would evaporate when push came to shove—but this offer seemed far more binding. "Are you sure?"

This time, he nodded. "I am, Sarah. I'm absolutely sure."

Across the platform, Laszlo gave a long, low whistle.

"Well … okay, then," she said, and Chuck smiled—a huge, blinding grin that she couldn't help but return.

"It's settled, then," he said. "Give me your phone."

Over the next few days, he taught her all the intricacies of using Morgan as they worked to expand the AI's vocabulary by doing association drills with each dolphin. Gertrude and Lou would hold up objects for the dolphins—hoops, toys, vitamins, whatever they could think of—and the dolphins would vocalize in response. Then they'd take it a step further, using hand signals to communicate commands to the dolphins and seeing which vocalizations accompanied the corresponding behaviors. After they'd run through everything in their repertoire, the trainers had to get creative, introducing objects or behaviors they knew the dolphins enjoyed—or, conversely, detested.

Finn, for some reason, hated the net that hung on the wall next to the prep room door, used for fishing stray objects out of the tank. Whenever they used it, the trainers had to distract him, or he charged it, making all sorts of threatening clicks. Sarah had always wondered why, though she harbored her suspicions. These were confirmed when Gertrude put the net into the tank, making no effort to hide it from Finn. Sure enough, he went after it—and this time, Morgan translated his clicks as, "Bad net. Hurt Finn. Protect Echo and Eden … keep net away."

Sarah's eyes filled with tears. Finn remembered the net that had trapped him—the one he'd gotten tangled up in, that had resulted in the Stranding Network rescuing and rehabbing him. He'd been too injured to release immediately, and though he'd healed well enough, the veterinarians who'd examined him—including Casey—had all said he wasn't strong enough to survive in the wild. Usually their MO was "rescue, rehab, release," but it hadn't been possible in Finn's case. She'd always wondered how long dolphins' memories were—if Echo and Finn could recall their lives before the Aquarium—and here was her answer.

She thought about the day she'd met Chuck—how the little girl on the beach had asked her if the dolphins missed the ocean. Now, she might actually be able to find out … if she could figure out the right way to ask.

It would be tricky; that was an abstract question, asking the dolphins to reflect on thoughts and feelings, rather than simply observing their responses to stimuli. In order to go down that road, they would need to begin to establish a two-way line of communication with the dolphins—which meant that they'd have to allow Morgan to 'speak' again.

Out of an abundance of caution, they pulled the gate across, sectioning off Finn again. Then they decided to focus on communicating with the dolphins individually—a technique made possible by the two speakers housed in the Intersect that were equipped with underwater, acoustic lenses, allowing them to focus the sound at a specific target, much like a dolphin's echolocation "beam." This way, they'd be able to carry on a direct conversation—assuming that the process worked.

For this experiment, everyone was present—Beckman, Casey, both trainers, Ellie, Laszlo, and, of course, Chuck and Sarah. Though Beckman had many other responsibilities that demanded her attention, she'd been stopping by periodically to check on their progress. Sarah had asked her if she'd heard from Bryce; when Beckman had responded in the negative, she'd allowed herself to hope that maybe everything he'd been spewing had been empty threats. The Director had been extremely apologetic about her lack of faith in Sarah's warnings, which made her feel vindicated … though it didn't make her any happier to think that yet another smart, savvy person had fallen victim to his charms.

Beckman hadn't been able to give Sarah any additional information on the Sedna Foundation, either—a fact that Sarah found troubling. If the Board had vetted them, then they were doubtless legitimate, as Beckman had promised; still, Sarah knew most of the foundations out there, from years of applying for grants. What were the chances that a brand-new one would have popped up overnight and then committed to funding her research for five years? It seemed too good to be true, and in her darker moments, she couldn't help but wonder if Bryce was somehow behind this as well—but how would that benefit him? He liked the limelight, the credit; he'd never be one to hide behind an anonymous foundation. It was a mystery, and it bugged the hell out of her.

She'd tried to talk to Chuck about it, but he'd muttered something about "not looking a gift horse in the mouth" and then gone on to talk about all the incredible things she could accomplish, now that she didn't have to worry about funding anymore. She knew he was right—she should be elated, and set her curiosity aside—but maybe it was the scientist in her. She just couldn't let it go.

Well, there would be time enough to figure it out later. For now, she just had to focus on the task in front of them—having Morgan successfully communicate with the dolphins. They'd decided that the first thing the AI should "say" this time around was the signature whistle Morgan had assigned to the Intersect, as a formal introduction. Then it could move on to conversation.

As was the case before, Chuck carried the Intersect to the edge of the tank, knelt, and set it in the water. And as before, Eden swam right up to it without the slightest hesitation, Echo right beside her. This time, the older dolphin didn't issue a warning—though she stayed right next to Eden, keeping an eye on the Intersect, lest it do anything untoward.

Eden whistled, and Morgan translated: "Friend! You … back came." The little dolphin swam around the mechanical one, nudging it with her rostrum. "Echo … happy. Friend play?"

Chuck made an aggravated sound, and Sarah had to smile. No matter what he did, he hadn't been able to get Morgan to say those words in the correct order. The AI was capable of some of the most sophisticated computations and analysis Sarah could imagine—and for some reason, the phrase "came back" was a sticking point. Ah well … nothing was perfect, not even Chuck's genius AI.

"Okay, Morgan," Chuck said, getting over his pique. For this test, since it was so important, they'd agreed that he would control the AI rather than Sarah. "Go ahead and introduce yourself."

The mechanical dolphin whistled, and Morgan translated for itself: "Hi, Eden! I'm Morgan."

Sarah held her breath. Could the little dolphin understand Morgan? Would she respond? And if she did, would her response make any sense?

For a moment, nothing happened—except that Echo swam closer to the Intersect, prodding it herself … as if it waiting to see if it would make the same threatening sounds as it had last time. On the other side of the tank, Finn began swimming the length of the barrier again—back and forth, as if pacing.

Three seconds passed. Four. Five.

"Come on," Sarah heard Chuck mumble under his breath. "Come on…"

Eight. Nine. Ten.

It wasn't going to work. How could it? What they'd achieved so far was more than they could have dared to hope for. They'd just have to go back to the drawing board and try again when they had a better handle on things. They'd figure out what they'd done wrong, and next time they'd get closer to getting it right.

Pushing down her disappointment, Sarah was reaching out to touch Chuck's arm when Eden whistled. Without hesitation, the AI translated: "Morgan … friend! Is … Eden's toy. Morgan … play?"

This was it. The first direct communication between species. They'd done it. They'd actually done it.

Tears began to pour down Sarah's face. She wiped at them, but they just kept coming.

"Yes!" Chuck said, and did a little fist-pump.

"I'll be damned." Casey sounded almost—reverent, a tone Sarah had never heard from him before.

"It's working!" Next to Sarah, Lou squeezed her hand. "Oh my God, Sarah, it's actually working."

Sarah couldn't reply. She was too choked with emotion; if she opened her mouth, she was pretty sure all that would come out was a sob. When she glanced over at Ellie, the neurologist was dabbing her eyes with a tissue, with about as much success as Sarah herself.

"Morgan," Chuck said, his voice thick—as if he, too, was on the verge of tears—"go ahead and answer her."

"With pleasure, Chuck." Morgan translated for the Intersect, sounding indignant. "I am not a toy! I'm Chuck's friend."

There was a pause, and then Eden responded, sounding equally upset, "Eden … Chuck's friend. Not Morgan. Eden … loves Chuck!"

Across the platform, Laszlo snickered. "Looks like you might have some competition, Sarah," he said. "Dude, for once, you've got the ladies fighting over you. How does it feel?"

Sarah let out a laugh—but sure enough, it devolved into a sob.

Chuck ignored him. "Go ahead, Morgan," he said.

The Intersect whistled again, and when Morgan translated this time, the AI's voice had a distinctly diplomatic tone. "Chuck is very nice. Can he be both of our friends, together?"

There was a pause, and then Morgan translated, a sulky tinge to its voice, "Maybe. Eden … share Chuck. If Morgan … play now."

"I like playing," Morgan said, sounding happier. "Want to play chase? I bet you can't catch me!"

And the Intersect was off, streaking underwater with Eden in hot pursuit. The team stood on the platform, watching the two play, with Morgan periodically translating. Sarah wanted to say something, to congratulate everyone, but she was speechless.

Beckman had no such compunction. A smile lighting her face, she said, "This is incredible work. Unbelievable. I'm so proud of everyone here—and I'm so grateful that I was here to see this. We're making history … and this is just the beginning. Sarah, once we have the chance to submit our results through peer-reviewed journals, everyone who ever gave you a hard time about your research will be lining up to kiss your feet. And I—"

Before she could finish her sentence, her cell phone rang. Frowning, she glanced down at it—and then picked up the call. "This is Dr. Beckman … what?" Her frown deepened. "You've got to be kidding. There's what? Okay, I will. Hang on."

Pulling the phone away from her ear, she typed a few things—and then her eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding me!"

Sarah's stomach clenched. Whatever was going on, it couldn't be good.

Then Beckman's phone chirped, a tone Sarah recognized as indicating an incoming email—and the director's eyes widened even further. She took a moment to read it, and by the time she finished, she looked furious. Lifting the phone back to her ear, she said, "Sylvia?"

Sylvia Ramirez was the chair of the Aquarium's board of trustees. If she was calling Beckman with an urgent issue, whatever it was had to be serious—and so was what came out of Beckman's mouth next. "I just got an email from a Daniel Shaw," she said into the phone. "Apparently he's an attorney from a firm called Graham, Shaw, and Milbarge LLC. According to his email, he's representing Bryce Larkin as the plaintiff in some kind of case against us. Hold on, I'm still reading."

A hush fell over the dive platform as incredulity washed over Sarah … followed by rage. She knew Bryce's disappearance had been too good to be true. A case against the Aquarium—for what? He had to be out of his mind, pulling shit like this. And why had Sylvia called? It hadn't been about the lawyer; Beckman hadn't known about that until she'd checked her email…

Without meaning to, Sarah had stepped closer to Beckman. She could hear the murmur of Sylvia's voice on the other end of the line, but couldn't make out what the chair was saying.

"All right," Beckman finally said into the phone. "Shaw is serving us with a cease and desist letter quote-unquote 'prohibiting your organization from utilizing DolphinSpeak's intellectual property during your scientific research, or at any other time.' From what I can see, Mr. Larkin is asserting that the technology we're using in this project belongs to him. He says"—she put the chair on speaker and then walked further away from the group—"and I quote: 'Mr. Larkin has patents pending on two specific devices—The Aquatic Bridge and CymaScope Pro. He has provided detailed blueprints of both devices, which are attached to this email. Since your usage of both of these devices is in violation of his preexisting claim, he will bring suit against the Aquarium for patent infringement once his pending claims have been approved by the USPTO.'"

Sarah couldn't contain herself any longer. She didn't care whether or not Sylvia could hear her. "A lawsuit? This is all Chuck's technology! Bryce is the thief. He—"

"Sarah—" Beckman said, clearly trying to hush her, but Sarah refused to be hushed.

"No, Diane. This is ridiculous, even for him. The suit is baseless. How dare he?"

Beckman sighed, listening to something on the other end of the line. "No," she said when Sylvia finished talking. "I told you he stormed off in a rage when I told him we'd secured that funding from Sedna—but I haven't heard from him since. I need to respond to this—but I'm going to call our lawyer first and alert her to what's going on … unless you want to do that?"

There was a pause as Beckman listened. Then she said, "All right. Do you have Zondra's number handy? … Great, thanks. I'll keep you posted. Talk soon." And she disconnected the call.

"What—" Sarah began, incensed, but Beckman held up a finger.

"One minute," she said, dialing again.

"Zondra Rizzo, please," she said to whoever answered. "Please tell her it's Diane Beckman, and it's urgent." She waited, drumming the fingers of her free hand against her leg. "Hi, Zondra," she said at last. "It's Diane at the Aquarium. We have a situation. Do you have a minute?"

Zondra Rizzo was the Aquarium's lead attorney. As Sarah shifted from one foot to the other, becoming more furious by the moment, Beckman went through the details of the past week, culminating in Bryce's threats and the communication she'd just received from his lawyer. "And," she went on grimly, "someone released information about this project to the media. There's articles all over the Internet about it, and I'd bet my retirement Larkin's behind it. Sylvia Ramirez called me—apparently a reporter reached out to her, wanting her to verify the story and give them a sound bite."

Sarah felt her heart plummet to her shoes. The spiteful snake. She hadn't thought it was possible for her to hate him any more than she had before—but as was so often the case when it came to Bryce Larkin, she'd been wrong.

OoOoOoOoO

Chuck didn't know what was worse … his disgust and anger with Bryce for trying to steal his tech, or the expression on Sarah's face as she realized her ex had betrayed her—yet again. She looked hurt, sick to her stomach—and enraged. Chuck was by no means a violent person, but knowing Bryce had made her feel that way—after she'd done everything she could to warn Diane—made him wish he'd given Laszlo the go-ahead to toss the asshole into the tank.

To top it all off, it sounded like the guy had gone to the media, breaking the project wide open before they'd even had a chance to finish their testing. God, it was so underhanded.

Chuck pulled out his phone to check his news feeds as Beckman said, "I'm forwarding the email to you now, Zondra. Please take a look and let me know what you'd advise."

She waited, drumming her fingers on her thigh again, as Chuck—along with everyone else—went online … and collectively sucked in what felt like all the air in the room. The LA Times, the San Francisco Chronicle, the AP wire and the local papers … all of them had picked up the story. The headlines blared, DolphinSpeak True to Its Name; Dolphins Speak with DolphinSpeak; Aptly-Named DolphinSpeak Breaks the Interspecies Language Barrier. On and on they went, even quoting Diane as saying, 'I'm incredibly excited about this project. Its potential is limitless.'"

Chuck's brow furrowed. Diane had said that—or something very similar—on one of the occasions that she'd brought Bryce by the Aquarium to check in during the week before yesterday's demonstration. It wasn't a false representation of her words … but they had certainly never been intended to be used in this context. Had Larkin told his team to thrown together a press release … and given them this quote from Diane to use? Gritting his teeth, he scanned the beginning of the article in the Chronicle.

CEO Bryce Larkin of DolphinSpeak teams up with Monterey Bay Aquarium scientist Sarah Walker, claiming to have broken through the barrier to interspecies communication. When Larkin established his company four years ago, the name was wishful thinking—but perseverance, technological innovation, and willingness to collaborate accomplished what some would call the impossible.

"I faced a lot of naysayers over the years," Larkin says. "People who believed this was just a pipe dream. But I persisted, developing technology that I thought could bridge the gap between humans and dolphins. Add to that Dr. Walker's brilliance and passion for the field, and—well, all I can say is, it was a recipe for success."

The hell with tossing Bryce into the tank; Chuck wanted to do the same thing with his phone. The guy's audacity was unbelievable. And dragging Sarah into this was just unbelievably low.

He stole a glance at her; her face was dead white. How had they gone from elation to this somber mood in less than fifteen minutes?

"All right," Beckman said into the phone, derailing his train of thought. She sounded resigned. "I see. Are you sure? … Yes, I'll take care of it, but I hate to kowtow to this type of coercion, when I know good and well … Yes, I'm certain! Absolutely … Okay. Okay. Send me a calendar invite … Thanks, Zondra. I'll be in touch."

She hung up, then turned to face them. "All right," she said, her jaw set. "Here's the deal. As you just heard, Bryce Larkin's made good on his threat to retaliate since we rejected his offer of funding. "Zondra Rizzo—our attorney—says we need to stop working on this project for now, while we get to the bottom of this accusation … hopefully out of court."

Pandemonium erupted, with everyone talking at once. Diane quelled the hubbub, raising her voice to be heard. "I know how upset you must be about this—I'm upset, too—but it's necessary. Bryce is asking for all potential monetary loss during the time in which the patent was filed and finalized. If he gets his way, and his attorney discovers we've been using the disputed technology in the interim, the Aquarium could be on the hook for a lot of money."

"This is bullshit." Sarah was pacing now, stalking back and forth at the edge of the platform. "He can't just get away with this."

"And he won't," Chuck said, speaking up for the first time. His rage was transmuting into determination. "Diane, can you please send me those blueprints?"

"Of course." The director punched a couple of buttons on her phone, and a moment later, Chuck's phone buzzed. "Zondra would like to meet with us—myself, Sarah, Chuck, and Laszlo—at 2 PM today. She'll need to see all of the relevant documentation associated with the project, to substantiate our position … so whatever you have, please pull it together after you've had a chance to look these over."

Chuck was barely listening to her. He scanned the specs of what Bryce was calling The Aquatic Bridge and CymaScope Pro, getting more pissed off by the moment. They weren't exactly the same as the Intersect and the cymatics rig—but they were damn close, especially the Cypher. How had Larkin done this? He must have had some sort of surveillance device on him, some sort of camera … and damn it, Chuck should have known better. Security was his field, how he'd originally made his money. And yet this bastard had just waltzed in and swiped his own tech right under his nose.

"Laz," he said, glancing across the platform, "come take a look at this."

Looking as pissed as Chuck had ever seen him, Laszlo walked to Chuck's side and peered down at the screen. "That fucker," he muttered. "I'm gonna figure out how he did this—and then I'm gonna ruin him."

"Well, before you ruin him," Chuck said, "can you call over to Apple and talk to them about the tech we used on the shark? That's the proprietary piece. Everything else in the Intersect is just bells and whistles."

"On it," Laz said, pulling out his phone.

"While you do that, I'll reach out to Manoosh. Then we can regroup."

"Good thinking," Laz said, and stepped into the prep room to make his call.

"And I," Diane said, regarding her phone as if it were a loathsome insect, "will call Bryce's lawyer and let him know the plan. Then we'll discuss next steps."

The lawyer had apparently given Diane his direct line; a few moments later, Chuck heard the rumble of a man's voice, and then Diane said, "Am I speaking with Daniel Shaw? … Hello, Mr. Shaw. This is Dr. Diane Beckman from the Monterey Bay Aquarium. I received your email."

The man's voice rumbled again.

"Yes, of course we'll be contesting the claim," Diane said, sending a reassuring look Sarah's way. "There's no truth to it, and the quote that Mr. Larkin—or whomever's handling his press—chose to share with the media wasn't given to him for that purpose. It was taken out of context, and our lawyers will be in touch with you about that as well."

Rumble.

"Yes, she's here … I'd be happy to." She pressed the speaker button, and a moment later, Shaw's voice filled the room—deep and preternaturally smooth.

"Hello, Ms. Walker. Congratulations on your success. You must be very proud."

Sarah glared at the phone as if she could see straight through it to Shaw himself … and would like nothing more than to vaporize him, Cyclops-style. "I'm proud of our work," she said. "Emphasis on our work, not Bryce's. He had nothing to do with what we've accomplished, other than offering to fund it. Whatever he's fed you is a pack of lies."

"Well," Shaw said, not sounding fazed in the least, "I'm sorry you feel that way. I imagine this will be something I'll have to take up with your attorney. The case could become quite protracted, given the lengthy nature of the patent process … unless, of course, you're willing to make a deal."

"What kind of deal?" Sarah demanded, before Diane could say another word.

"My client only wants what's fair to him and his company, DolphinSpeak, Ms. Walker. Since Mr. Bartowski reached out to his lead engineer, asking questions about their CymaScope's build and construction, and based on that conversation built his own version, Mr. Larkin insists that research done utilizing his technology be credited in any publicly submitted scientific papers and that his company share in any proceeds of said research."

Chuck found his voice. "The invention you're referring to as 'The Aquatic Bridge' had nothing to do with John Reid. I designed the basic structure with Laszlo Mahnovski at Apple, and the heart of what you're calling the 'CymaScope Pro' in partnership with Manoosh Depak at QSI. The specs you sent for both devices are relatively accurate, but they're my design, not Bryce Larkin's. This is theft, plain and simple—and believe me, there will be consequences."

"That's between you and the court system, Mr. Bartowski—and if that's the path you choose to pursue, then I strongly suggest that you find yourself a good lawyer," Shaw said, sounding as cool and indifferent as he had before. "My client has assured me that he shared 'The Aquatic Bridge' technology with you in good faith, but once he was ousted from the project, you refused to surrender his technology. That forced him to rush through the patent process—for his own protection, of course."

"That's ridiculous!" Chuck's hands clenched into fists. "I would never steal someone else's tech. I don't know how Bryce got his hands on these specs, but I assure you it isn't because he had any part in the design of 'The Aquatic Bridge,' as he calls it. As for the cymatics rig, the information I used to design that was freely available on the Internet—anyone could build one. It's open-source technology. On top of that, the only thing that allowed my rig to work the way it did was the Cypher—a completely original concept. This entire 'cease and desist' order is a farce, and if you—"

"Chuck." Despite the turmoil that he was sure she must be feeling, Diane's voice was calm. "We'll get to the bottom of this. Mr. Shaw, our attorneys will be in touch."

"I look forward to hearing from them and resolving this to our mutual satisfaction. Until then," Shaw said, and disconnected the call.

They all regarded each other. The day, which had seemed so miraculous only minutes before, felt grim—all possibilities sucked out of it.

Sarah broke the silence. "'To our mutual satisfaction'? What kind of slimy legalese is that? He has to know Bryce is lying … and he doesn't seem to care." She brandished her phone, where the article from the LA Times showed on the screen. "He talked to the media about our project. The media! Before we even had a chance to conduct a solid week of demonstrations testing … What are we going to do if the Sedna Foundation finds out about this and pulls the funding? What if they think we're unscrupulous … or charlatans … or …" Tears streamed down her cheeks, and, furious, she wiped them away. "I worked so hard for people to take me seriously! And now this is what he does? He could ruin everything."

Watching her cry like this gutted Chuck. It was the second time in one day—but the first had been out of happiness. This time, he could feel the misery rolling off her in waves. Desperate to offer comfort, he stepped closer to her and took her hand, as if they were the only two people in the room.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "Don't worry about the funding; I'm sure it will be fine."

"How can you be so sure?" She cried harder. "We don't know anything about Sedna. I can't even explain myself …"

Was this the moment to tell her the truth? If the thought of losing the funding was adding to her devastation, then he should say something. But he'd meant to stay anonymous, to make it a gift with no strings attached. He'd made that clear to Ellie when they'd talked last night, when his sister had warned him Sarah might see this as a power move—a way to make sure he stayed in her life. The last thing he wanted was to control Sarah in any way. He just wanted to see her shine.

"You don't have to explain yourself," he said with conviction, ignoring his sister's laser-sharp gaze, which he could feel boring a hole into his back. "The board can talk to the funder about the lawsuit, and they'll understand. I'm sure of it. As for the rest of this situation"—professionalism be damned; he reached out and wiped the tears from her cheeks—"I don't know how it happened, Sarah—but I swear, I will fix this."

She lifted a watery gaze to meet his. In it, he saw her faith in him—but also, her own determination. "No, you won't," she told him, her voice fierce despite her tears. "We'll fix it … together."

A/N: Damn you, Bryce Larkin! Just when everything was going so well, too. Sarah and Chuck were happy; Eden and her friend, Morgan, were carrying on a lovely conversation … and then in you marched—well, your lawyer, anyhow—and sent everything to hell in a handbasket.

What will happen next? Will Bryce's machinations prevail—or will good triumph over evil? Will Sarah find out just who's behind the Sedna Foundation—and was Ellie right to think Chuck's gone too far? Next week's installment will Reveal All.

As always, thanks for reading—and please keep your reviews, follows, and favorites coming our way! They really do make this all worthwhile.