ELLIOT
“He finished it.”
Vivienne set the pages on the table between them. Not the notebook. Something else. Loose pages, handwritten, the paper older than the notebook but the handwriting unmistakably the same.
Elliot looked at them.
James sat beside his sister with his hands flat on the table and the expression of someone who had been awake since four in the morning sitting with information and had not yet decided how to feel about it.
They were in Dr. Cole’s conference room at nine. Sera sat beside Elliot. She had been quiet since they arrived, reading the situation before inserting herself into it the way she always did.
“The compound,” Vivienne said. “My father’s original formula. The version in the notebook was the development stage. Complete for what it was. But there was a se
