Chapter 3

Cora and Lena pushed through the heavy oak double doors of Conference Room One.

The room was already packed. The atmosphere was thick with nervous tension. No one was talking above a whisper.

Cora immediately gravitated toward the back. She found an empty chair in the darkest corner and sat down. She tilted her head, letting her hair fall forward to shield her scar.

Dr. Marcus Thorne stood at the front of the room. He was sweating slightly as he adjusted the projector on the ceiling.

In the front row sat the university's top brass. Chairman Powell and Director Evans were wearing their most expensive suits, sitting rigidly in their leather chairs.

Dr. Thorne cleared his throat. He clicked a button on his remote.

A high-resolution aerial photograph flashed onto the projector screen. It showed a dense, dark forest in Upstate New York.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Dr. Thorne began, his voice shaking with excitement. "During a routine geological survey, we have uncovered a massive, perfectly preserved family crypt dating back to the Gilded Age."

He clicked the remote again. The slide changed. It showed the entrance to a stone tomb, covered in intricate, gothic Victorian carvings.

A collective gasp echoed through the conference room. Finding an untouched mausoleum from that era was practically unheard of.

"Because of the immense funding we've just secured," Dr. Thorne continued, "we are assembling an elite advance team to begin excavation immediately."

He picked up a clipboard from the podium. He started reading names.

In the second row, Chloe Vance and Jessica Lane sat up perfectly straight. They exchanged confident, eager smiles.

Dr. Thorne read off the names of three senior specialists. Then, he paused.

He looked up from the clipboard. His eyes scanned the crowded room and locked directly onto Cora in the back corner.

"Cora Foster," Dr. Thorne said clearly into the microphone.

The entire conference room went dead silent. Every single head turned to look at the back row.

Chloe whipped her head around. She let out a loud, theatrical scoff of pure disgust.

Jessica leaned over to Chloe and whispered loudly enough for half the room to hear, "Why is she going? Is this some kind of pity charity case?"

Cora felt the blood rush to her face. Her cheeks burned. She intertwined her fingers in her lap and squeezed until her joints ached. She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.

Dr. Thorne tapped his pen against the microphone to regain control. "Need I remind this room of the unidentified harbor remains from last year?" he said firmly, his voice echoing off the walls. "Ms. Foster was the only one who correctly identified the subject as a 19th-century Irish dockworker, based entirely on the wear patterns of a single carpal bone-a conclusion later verified by isotopic analysis. Her intuition and foundational knowledge are exactly what we need out there."

Chairman Powell nodded in agreement. He stood up and announced that the meeting was adjourned. Everyone needed to pack their gear.

The crowd began to filter out. Chloe walked past Cora's row. She intentionally veered off course and slammed her shoulder hard into Cora's.

Cora stumbled sideways against her chair. She didn't say a word. She just kept her head down and started packing her notebook.

Dr. Thorne walked up the aisle and stopped in front of her. He handed her a thick stack of papers.

"Non-disclosure agreements," he said softly. He looked her right in the eye. "I know how good you are, Cora. Ignore the noise."

He patted her shoulder gently. "Take tonight to pack. And maybe go visit your father before we leave. We'll be off the grid for a while."

At the mention of her father, Cora's eyes dulled. A cold numbness spread through her chest. She gave a stiff, tiny nod.

She shoved the NDA documents into her backpack. She turned and walked out of the emptying conference room.

Cora walked down the quiet hallway back to her desk. She took a deep breath, preparing to look at the preliminary blueprints Thorne had emailed her.