Glitched

17. Chromed Chaos

The moment Isolde swung open the tower door, her heart became weighed by indisputable dread. It only worsened when she reached her floor and the elevator doors opened to unveil the curious eyes of nearly everyone she crossed.

Already she could feel her ears burn with shame without even a hint as to what she had done wrong. When she reached the lab, the stares only intensified, the sparse conversations happening around her halting as she passed, which prompted her to grasp the edges of her lab coat in shaking fists.

Mercer wasn't hard to spot, the silver embellishments of his clothing making him stand out amidst the sea of white. She was eager to get the meeting over with and approached him quickly, her heart plummeting to the barren wasteland of her stomach upon seeing his face.

He usually greeted her with a smile, something she had once admired about him, even if at times it looked to be displaced in certain situations, and while it had annoyed her, it at least hinted that he was in an agreeable mood.

But there was no smile on his face now, no wrinkling of his eyes, or merry greeting from his lips. Instead, he instructed the technician he had been speaking to to get back to work and jerked his head towards his office.

"Follow me, please, Ms. Roth," he said, not waiting for a response as he led them to the iron doors of his study.

Isolde's legs shook beneath her lithe weight as she gently snapped the doors to his office closed behind her. When she turned to face him, Mercer was already behind his desk, flipping the screen of his computer around to face her.

"To put it absolutely mildly, I'm disappointed, Ms. Roth," he said, showing her what looked like, of all things, receipts upon a spreadsheet, as well as a few bank statements. "At least half a million in funds have been signed off under your name. Even with the homing signal off on your IP address, you didn't do a well enough job covering your tracks."

Isolde only needed several seconds to comprehend what it was that Mercer was implying, before she jerked herself forward with a start. "Professor! I—you don't really believe I did this, do you?" She thought she had been expecting the worst, but now, Isolde couldn't decide if this was better or worse than Mercer having found out about her relationship with one of his Projects.

"I didn't want to believe it.," he said gravely. "You never seemed like the type. I know you and your family are in a bit of a financial strain, but I thought your pay more than generously compensated for it. We extended your benefits to cover the medical costs for your grandfather and I thought you were more than pleased with the arrangement."

"I was! I am!" Isolde couldn't breathe, she could hardly speak well enough to defend herself. Of course, she appreciated all that the company had done for her. How could he not see that her stealing from them just wouldn't make any sense? "Please, Professor, this is all a lie—someone else is responsible! You've—you've done so much for me, like you said. I would never—I could never—"

Mercer turned away from her, his face registering disgust that made her blood run cold. "I thought I'd found myself a gem amidst a horde of coal. I thought I could trust you. But it was your plan all along, wasn't it? Well, I'm sorry to say that you didn't steal quite enough. Do you think the cost of repairs and upkeep for Project Z's exterior alone would only be a mere five-hundred thousand? You grossly underestimated his value, just as I've overestimated yours."

The words stung, even more so knowing that they were totally unwarranted.

"Collect your things and then be on your way. I'll grant you one final courtesy and resist involving the police if you leave quietly."

"No!" Isolde ran for Mercer's desk, gripping the edges of the bolted iron with desperate hands, as if at any moment she would be dragged away and hauled off from her last chance at repairing her future. "No, Professor, you have to listen to me! I—"