The hum of the laptop faded into the background as Clara stared at Dr. Elise Kramer’s contact details on her screen. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, torn between hesitation and urgency. If Jonathan Blackthorn’s former colleague had even a fraction of his knowledge, she might hold the key to understanding the liquid’s full potential—and its dangers.


    Hensley leaned against the doorframe, watching her. “If you don’t reach out, we’re flying blind.”


    Clara nodded, steeling herself. She crafted a brief yet compelling email:


    Subject: Urgent Inquiry Regarding Blackthorn Research


    Dear Dr. Kramer,


    My name is Clara Dorne. I’m an investigative researcher studying the late Dr. Jonathan Blackthorn’s work at the Blackthorn Institute. I recently uncovered materials suggesting that his experiments were far more advanced than publicly known. I believe his research into piezoelectric liquids is critical to preventing a potential crisis. Your insights would be invaluable. Can we speak?


    Sincerely, Clara Dorne


    She clicked “Send” and exhaled slowly, the tension in her chest easing. “Now we wait.”


    The response came faster than Clara had anticipated. Her phone buzzed within an hour, displaying a curt reply:


    Subject: Re: Urgent Inquiry Regarding Blackthorn Research


    Ms. Dorne,


    Jonathan’s work was always more than it seemed. I’ll meet you, but only in person. There are things I cannot trust to email. Tomorrow. 3 PM. Pierce Coffeehouse, downtown.


    - Elise Kramer


    Clara read the email aloud, and Hensley frowned. “Sounds like she’s either paranoid or knows something big.”


    “Maybe both,” Clara said, grabbing her coat. “We’ll find out tomorrow.”You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    The next afternoon, Clara and Hensley entered the Pierce Coffeehouse. The warm aroma of roasted beans mingled with soft murmurs of conversation. Clara scanned the room until her eyes landed on a woman seated in a back corner, her posture rigid and eyes sharp behind wire-framed glasses. Elise Kramer.


    Clara approached, her notebook in hand. “Dr. Kramer?”


    Elise nodded, gesturing to the seat across from her. “Ms. Dorne, I assume? And this is?” She glanced at Hensley.


    “Detective Hensley,” he said, taking the seat beside Clara. “We’re working together.”


    Elise’s expression softened slightly. “Good. You’ll need protection if you’re digging into Jonathan’s work.”


    Clara wasted no time. “Dr. Kramer, I’ve found Jonathan’s journals and materials about the piezoelectric liquid. He designed something called the Node to stabilize it, but… I need to understand why he hid it. Why it cost him everything.”


    Elise’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Because the liquid wasn’t just a scientific breakthrough. It was a Pandora’s box. Jonathan was a visionary, but even he underestimated its impact. He thought he could control it, but we both saw the dangers early on.”


    “What dangers?” Clara asked.


    Elise leaned forward, her voice dropping. “The liquid’s energy output was limitless, yes, but unpredictable. During resonance trials, small fluctuations created feedback loops that destabilized entire systems. The Node was meant to regulate those loops, but even it wasn’t perfect. The liquid’s properties… they behaved as if alive. And Malcolm Wexler saw opportunity where Jonathan saw risk.”


    Clara’s pen moved furiously over her notebook. “Wexler wanted to weaponize it.”


    Elise nodded. “He believed the instability could be harnessed to create precision strikes or large-scale destruction. Jonathan refused, and that’s when things turned… dark. Funding for the Institute dried up. Accidents happened. And then… the fire.”


    “Do you think the fire was an attack?” Hensley asked.


    Elise’s gaze was distant. “I don’t know for certain. But Jonathan told me shortly before it happened that he felt cornered. He said the vault would protect the liquid and his family. I don’t think he anticipated just how far Wexler and his backers were willing to go.”


    Clara leaned forward. “If the liquid’s still out there, how do we stop Wexler from using it?”


    Elise hesitated, then pulled a small notebook from her bag. She flipped to a page filled with technical schematics. “The Node—or what’s left of it—could be the answer. If you find it, you might have a chance to neutralize the liquid’s energy permanently. But Jonathan destroyed all traces of its location after the fire. He didn’t want anyone to find it—not even me.”


    Hensley frowned. “So it’s gone?”


    Elise nodded gravely. “Unless Jonathan left clues in his journals that I’m unaware of, the Node is lost. Without it, controlling the liquid’s energy is impossible.”


    Clara’s heart sank. The Node, their best hope, was out of reach. But she wasn’t ready to give up. As they left the coffeehouse, she clutched Elise’s notes tightly, her mind already racing with alternatives.


    “If we can’t find the Node,” Clara said softly, “then we’ll have to find another way.”