Chapter 143:
Elias was standing by the stove. He was wearing the black apron. He was wearing one latex glove. He was holding a spatula like a weapon.
Leo lowered his sunglasses.
“Uncle Elias?”
Elias turned slowly. His face was streaked with soot.
“You’re home early,” Elias said. His voice was ice cold, daring Leo to comment.
Leo looked at the steak, which was charred on one side and raw on the other. He looked at the apron. He looked at the bandage on Elias’s finger.
“Are you… cooking?” Leo asked. His voice cracked.
Elias’s mind raced. He needed an excuse. A logical, business-related excuse for why he was grilling meat in an apron on a Thursday afternoon.
“I am…” Elias started.
Leo’s eyes zoomed in on the bandage.
“Did you cut yourself?”
“It is a flesh wound,” Elias snapped.
“Oh my god,” Leo whispered. “Xander was right. The shrimp. The apron. You’re nesting.”
“I am not nesting!” Elias roared. “I am… testing the thermal conductivity of this new pan alloy!”
Leo burst out laughing. He laughed so hard he dropped his bag.
“Thermal conductivity? With a ribeye? Eli, just admit it. You’re cooking for her.”
Elias pointed the spatula at Leo.
“If you speak of this,” Elias said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper, “I will cut your trust fund. I will send you to the branch office in Siberia. I will make you fly economy.”
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Leo raised his hands in surrender, still grinning.
“Zip it. Lips sealed. But seriously… turn down the heat. You’re burning the conductivity.”
Elias stared at Leo, his chest heaving slightly from the exertion of the “thermal test.”
“I’m ordering out,” Elias announced, throwing the spatula into the sink. “This experiment is concluded.”
He ripped off the apron and stuffed it into the trash compactor.
“Good call,” Leo said, opening the fridge. “So, who is she? The needle girl? Aurora?”
Elias ignored him. He walked out of the kitchen, pulling out his phone to order sushi. High-end, perfectly safe sushi.
The next day, at Columbia University.
Aurora was summoned to the Department Chair’s office during free period. She expected trouble. Maybe Heather had complained about the “bullying” at the lecture.
Instead, she found Professor Calloway sitting there. He was the head of the Bio-Science department, a man with wild white hair and a reputation for brilliance.
“Ms. Vance,” Calloway said, gesturing to a chair. “I’ve been reviewing your file. And your… extracurriculars.”
Aurora stiffened. “Sir?”
“I hear rumors,” Calloway said, his eyes twinkling. “About a certain student who diagnosed a rare neurological condition in a certain billionaire. And who worked miracles with Professor Yinn’s chronic pain.”
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