Chapter 1

ONE

T he universe, Emma Greene decided, had a special fondness for chaos. Here she was, staring at a genetic sequence that could revolutionize modern medicine while simultaneously watching coffee cascade over her keyboard in magnificent slow motion. Of course, this would happen at 3:00 AM, mere hours before her interview with the most prestigious genetic research facility in the country.

“Please don’t make me have to explain coffee damage to the grant committee again,” she muttered, frantically dabbing at her keyboard with the sleeve of her MIT sweatshirt. The screen flickered but held steady, still displaying the pattern she’d been hunting for months - a unique genetic stability marker that seemed to defy normal hereditary drift patterns.

Her wall of research notes told the story of six months of obsession: color-coded sticky notes connected by strings, complex diagrams, and countless genetic sequences. At the center was a chart tracking inherited traits down several family lines.

The data was fascinating – what caused some genes to pass to progeny while others didn’t? Was there a specific protein the passed-on DNA carried? Did one trait overtake weaker ones?

Emma grabbed her phone, her hands shaking with excitement and possibly excessive coffee consumption. The time (3:07 AM) registered about three seconds after she hit dial.

“Someone better be dead or discovering time travel,” Janie growled.

“I found it! The stability pattern—” Emma caught her reflection in the darkened window and winced. Yesterday’s mascara had migrated south, her red hair resembled a physics experiment gone wrong, and was that dried ramen on her sweatshirt? “Oh god. Janie, what day is it?”

“The day of your interview with Spectre Industries. The one I’d been texting you about all day yesterday. Please tell me you didn’t forget.”

Emma’s stomach performed an advanced gymnastics routine. “Define forget?”

“Emma Marie Greene, you did not just spend another all-nighter in your home lab when you’re supposed to meet Lucas Spectre in—” a pause. “Six hours.”

“In my defense, science doesn’t care about scheduling. Also, I might have made a small breakthrough. Like, potentially revolutionize our understanding of genetic inheritance.” Emma pulled up her data visualization. “Look at these stability markers. They shouldn’t be possible.”

“Honey, I love you, but I can’t actually see what you’re gesturing at over the phone. Also, you’re about to meet the man who makes biotech CEOs look like runway models. Maybe focus on that?”

“It’s a professional interview,” Emma protested, even as her traitorous mind pulled up the photo from Spectre Industries’ website. Lucas Spectre did have an unfairly perfect face for someone with multiple patents and a genome-altering research empire. Not that she’d spent time analyzing his bone structure. Much.

Her phone buzzed with another incoming call. “Oh no. Mom’s calling. At three in the morning. How does she always know?”

“Answer it. I’ll be there in four hours with emergency fashion supplies and enough caffeine to wake the dead.”

Emma switched calls, already wincing. “Hi, Mom. I was just... sleeping?”

“Darling.” Dr. Audrey Greene’s voice carried equal parts amusement and skepticism. “The only time you sleep through the night is when you pass out on your research notes. Tell me you at least reviewed the latest Spectre Industries publication on hereditary trait preservation?”

“Mom, please don’t?—”

“Did you know Lucas Spectre’s own research focuses on genetic stability? His theories about inherited trait preservation align remarkably well with your work. And his family shows fascinating consistency in certain genetic markers. Such excellent specimen for studying hereditary patterns?—”

“Good-bye, Mom. Love you.” Emma ended the call, her face burning. She did not need thoughts about studying Lucas Spectre’s genetic patterns, no matter how statistically fascinating his family’s DNA might be.

Her laptop chose that moment to spark ominously.

“Right,” Emma muttered, hunting for paper towels. “Less thinking about genetic specimens, more cleaning up coffee disasters. Tomorrow is about science, not attraction. Totally professional. Completely?—”

She caught her reflection again and groaned. “I’m going to need more coffee.”

Janie burst through the door hours later, looking impossibly polished for the ass crack of dawn and armed with garment bags and an enormous coffee. Her eyes widened at the chaos of Emma’s apartment. “Oh, honey, this is worse than the time you tried to prove coffee molecules could bond with DNA.”

“That was legitimate research,” Emma protested, making grabby hands at the coffee. “And I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I just need to shower, change, and somehow transform into a professional human who doesn’t babble about genetic stability markers when she’s nervous.”

“Or when she meets attractive men?” Janie raised a perfect eyebrow. “I know you Googled Lucas Spectre six times last week.”

“That was professional research!”

“And that photo you saved of him from last year’s Genetic Research Gala?”

“I was studying inheritance patterns in facial symmetry,” Emma mumbled into her coffee.

“Mm-hmm. And the fifteen minutes you spent analyzing said facial symmetry?”

“Statistical verification?”

Janie grabbed Emma’s shoulders. “Sweetie. I love you and your big, beautiful brain, but you need to admit you’re attracted to him. It’s okay to think he’s hot while also respecting his contributions to genetic research.”

“He’s not just hot,” Emma groaned, sinking onto her couch. “His paper on hereditary trait preservation revolutionized how we understand genetic stability. And when he gives lectures, he makes complex genetics sound like poetry. I watched all his presentations. For research!”

“Of course, you did. Now, shower. You smell like a coffee shop had a fight with a laboratory.”

Forty minutes later, Emma stood wrapped in a towel while Janie turned her bedroom into a fashion war room. Discarded outfits covered every surface not already occupied by research papers.

“What about this?” Janie held up a sleek green silk blouse. “It matches your eyes and says ‘I’m a brilliant scientist who also owns a hairbrush.’“

“I own a hairbrush! I just... haven’t seen it since Tuesday. I was too busy tracking genetic drift patterns.” Emma wiggled into the skirt Janie thrust at her.

“Uh-huh. And I’m sure that’s the only pattern you’ve been studying.” Janie’s smile turned wicked. “Nothing to do with certain inherited physical attributes?”

“Their DNA uniformity is fascinating. It’s like their genes are somehow protected against normal variation. Almost like...” Emma trailed off, her scientific mind clicking into gear. “Oh. Oh! What if that’s connected to my breakthrough? The stability markers I found could explain?—”

“Nope!” Janie steered her toward the vanity. “No science spirals before your interview. Sit. Let me make you look less like you just escaped a laboratory explosion.”

Before she knew it, Emma stood in front of Spectre Industries, trying not to hyperventilate. The building soared into the morning sky, all gleaming glass and impossible angles. Through the windows, she could see state-of-the-art research equipment that made her inner scientist swoon.

“You’ve got this,” she whispered to herself, clutching her tablet with her breakthrough data. “You’re a professional scientist with three PhDs. Just because he’s brilliant and gorgeous and probably knows how to sequence DNA in his sleep?—”

Her phone buzzed with a text from Janie: Stop overthinking and go get your scientist dream man! But maybe don’t lead with genetic stability markers this time.