Chapter 4 - The Mother of Invention
The cracked watch felt heavy in my hand.
I stared at the folded photograph, the harsh red ink bleeding through the paper. It was undeniably my father’s handwriting. I had spent hours tracing the loops and sharp angles of his letters from old birthday cards.
If Dr. Hart is the good guy, why did my dad cross out her face?
I looked up at her. She was watching me, her expression a mix of concern and something else. Was it fear? Was it calculation?
“What is it, Leo?” she asked, taking a step toward me.
I snapped the watch shut, hiding the photograph before she could see it. I shoved it deep into my pocket.
“Nothing,” I lied smoothly, surprised by how natural it felt. “Just... thinking about my mom. We need to go see her. Now.”
Dr. Hart studied my face for a long moment. She didn’t push. “My car is outside.”
The ride to my apartment in Queens was suffocatingly quiet. The luxury sedan had tinted windows and leather seats, a stark contrast to the rattling subway trains I was used to. Dr. Hart’s driver navigated the afternoon traffic with practiced ease, but I kept looking out the window, half-expecting to see Arthur Vance’s cold blue eyes staring back at me from the street.
When we pulled up to my peeling brick apartment building, Dr. Hart insisted on coming up.
I unlocked the front door. The smell of cheap garlic salt and old radiators filled my nose.
“Mom?” I called out.
My mother walked out of the tiny kitchenette, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She looked tired, her brown hair falling out of a messy bun.
“Leo, honey, you’re home early—” She stopped dead in her tracks.
The dish towel slipped from her hands, landing silently on the worn linoleum floor. All the color drained from her face as she looked at the woman standing behind me.
“Sarah,” Dr. Hart said softly.
“Get out,” my mother said. Her voice didn't shake. It was terrifyingly calm. “Get out of my house, Elena.”
“Mom, it’s okay,” I stepped forward. “She’s the one who sponsored my—”
“I know exactly who she is, Leo!” my mother snapped, grabbing my arm and pulling me behind her. She glared at Dr. Hart with a ferocity I had never seen in her before. “I told you seven years ago to never come near my son. You promised.”
“Arthur Vance has his project, Sarah,” Dr. Hart said, standing her ground. “Julian Vance entered a stolen blueprint into the competition today. Arthur knows Leo is Marcus’s son. He thinks Leo has the calibration cipher.”
My mother flinched. The anger in her eyes fractured, replaced by sheer, undeniable panic.
“He doesn't have anything,” my mother said desperately. “We burned everything! I swear to God, Elena, I burned all his notes!”
“You didn’t burn the blueprints,” Dr. Hart countered. “Leo built a working prototype. He got the schematics from somewhere, Sarah. If Arthur’s men search this apartment and find anything—”
“I said get out!” my mother screamed, tears finally spilling over her cheeks.
Dr. Hart looked at her, then at me. “Leo,” she said quietly. “Trust your instincts.”
Without another word, Dr. Hart turned and walked out of the apartment, the door clicking shut behind her.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
My mother leaned against the wall, covering her face with her hands, sobbing quietly.
“Mom,” I whispered. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the watch. I popped the back open and held out the photograph with the red X. “Why did Dad have a picture of Dr. Hart with a cross over her face?”
My mother looked through her fingers. When she saw the photo, she let out a broken gasp.
“Because she isn't the victim, Leo,” my mother wept. “She was Arthur Vance’s partner. Seven years ago, she sold your father out to the board. Elena Hart is the reason your father is dead.”
My heart stopped.
I had given my project to the judge. I had trusted the pregnant woman on the street.
“But... she hates Vance,” I stammered. “I saw them fighting in the principal’s office. She’s trying to stop him from getting the tech.”
“She doesn't want to stop him from getting it,” my mother said bitterly. “She wants it for herself. She always did.”
Suddenly, a massive realization hit me.
The prototype.
When my folder was stolen at the competition, they took the paper blueprints. But they didn't take the physical machine. I had hidden the actual device inside my locker at school because it was too delicate to carry in my backpack all day.
“Mom,” I said, my voice shaking. “The machine. The prototype. It’s still at my school.”
My mother’s eyes widened. “We have to destroy it.”
Before either of us could move, the front door of our apartment suddenly splintered open with a deafening crash.
Two men in dark windbreakers stepped into our living room.
And standing behind them was Arthur Vance.
“I apologize for the intrusion, Sarah,” Arthur said, brushing a speck of wood off his sleeve. “But I couldn't let Elena get to the prize first.”
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He looked directly at me.
“Where is the machine, Leo?”
