It was a terrible moment, to look at the woman who had raised her and fully realise that the person Naomi had put so much faith into, so much loyalty, was unworthy of all of it. Naomi had defended Valerie so many times, made so many excuses. So many had called the CEO of Hawthorne selfish, mercenary. Naomi had always dismissed it as jealousy, or insisted that they were intimidated by Valerie’s drive.

It had been that, sure, but some had also been warnings from those who had seen through her.

“How does the virus work?” Hart asked.

Valerie smirked. “So you can try and magically engineer a vaccine or a cure in your little lab? You know as well as I do that would take too long. It’s aggressive.”

Naomi dug her fingernails into her palms.

“How did you do this?” Hart asked. “You’re an engineer, an architect, not a doctor with this level of expertise. Who did you work with?”

Valerie only smiled.

For a fleeting second, Naomi worried it was Evan. He’d have the knowledge, but not the will. No. Not him. Valerie would crow about it if she’d finally convinced her son to come fully to her side. Naomi’s mind whirled. “Plenty in Hawthorne work in immunology. Dr. Bryony Goulding, she’s head of health research for Project Atalanta.” At the tightening of the skin around Valerie’s eyes, Naomi knew she’d guessed correctly. The tall woman who had sat at the same table as Naomi at that fundraising dinner on Catalina Island. She’d already have been developing it then, if not finished. Naomi pushed down on an absurd flush of jealousy. “What did you promise her?”

Valerie gave a slow blink. “Immunity and a ticket to Cavendish on the first ship out,” she said.

“You can make people immune,” Hart said.

“Obviously.” Valerie was just shy of rolling her eyes. “I wouldn’t engineer a disease without a cure.”

“Valerie,” Naomi said, with a stab of hope. “You can get Bryony to leak it. No one ever needs to know. You can undo this.”

Valerie’s brow rippled. “Now, why would I go and do a thing like that when everything is going so well?”

“Evan is down there,” Naomi said, hating how her voice thickened with tears. Valerie despised any show of weakness. “The father of your granddaughter. Please. You can’t.”

Valerie blinked three times, a lump moving down her throat as she swallowed. Then her features schooled into the coolness Naomi had seen countless times before.

The others suppressed their surprise. Naomi knew Hart had suspected Cole was the father, despite their divorce. Hixon and Lebedeva had never asked who the father was, but they clearly hadn’t expected her to sleep with Valerie’s son.