Robert lingered onstage just long enough for the governor's assistant to hand him the check. A few more camera flashes, a quick grin for the press, and the governor slipped out—early, of course.
But the night was far from over.
Two floors up, the afterparty was alive—music thumped low under a sea of clinking glasses and polished shoes. Robert drifted through the crowd with Nicole on his arm and their boys orbiting nearby.
Gabriel and Daniel weren't exactly in awe.
"Pay attention, boys," Robert said, waving the trophy in front of them, half amused, half annoyed.
"Yes, yes," Gabriel replied dryly. "You got a shiny trophy and a check. Does that mean I get a bigger allowance?"
Nicole gave him a warning glance. Robert just grinned, too high on the moment to care.
"Maybe you will."
Daniel chimed in, eyes lighting up. "What about me?"
"Sure, sure—everyone gets a raise," Robert said, already turning toward the next wave of handshakes.
He couldn't move ten feet without someone stopping to congratulate him. Friends, former colleagues, even long-time rivals lined up with smiles—some real, some fake as hell. Robert didn't care. The fake ones were almost better. Watching their tight little grins while they said "well done" through clenched teeth? That was sweeter than the champagne.
Dr. Tran leaned in with a snort. "Did you catch Johnson's face during your speech? Man looked like someone made him swallow a lemon whole."
"Damn, I missed that," Robert said, glancing around.
Nicole and Tran both nodded, clearly enjoying the memory.
He straightened his jacket. The navy suit felt unfamiliar, almost too nice. A small golden pin gleamed on his lapel—the symbol of the Scientist of the Year award. Summers himself had pinned it there less than an hour ago. Robert hadn't even flinched when the man shook his hand.
His fingers instinctively brushed the inside pocket of his blazer. The check sat there—thirty thousand dollars. He patted it lightly, just to be sure it was still real. The applause, the lights, the cameras… it all still felt like a dream.
Nicole stood beside him, radiant in a green silk dress that shimmered with every step. She was elegance without trying—her smile kind, her eyes warm, her posture calm and confident. Robert shot her a grateful look. Through every late night, every failed experiment, every funding rejection, she'd been his constant.
Their sons had promised to behave. Gabriel was holding up his end by keeping Daniel in check, and Daniel—thankfully—was glued to a handheld game. Gabriel's job was simple: make sure his little brother didn't zone out so hard he walked into a server tray or offended a diplomat.
They were camped out at a nearby table now, sipping sparkling juice and poking at bite-sized desserts. Nicole kept an eye on them, making sure they didn't get bold and try to sneak champagne.
"It's beautiful, Robert," she whispered, leaning close. "You've earned every dollar."
He squeezed her hand. "Couldn't have done it without you."
A smooth, too-familiar voice cut in. "And yet, you did. With a bleeding-heart idea no one thought would work. Amazing. Really."
Robert turned. Lane Wickers. Slicked-back hair. Smug face. Champagne glass in hand. That smirk was always there, like it came with the suit.
Wickers raised his glass. Robert, begrudgingly, clinked.
Wickers worked for Bio-deonTech—the same firm known for scooping up academic research and twisting it into high-priced government contracts. His job? Find useful ideas and turn them into money.
Robert didn't trust him. Wickers had the vibe of a used car salesman with a PhD.
"Enjoy the spoils of your win for now, you two," Wickers said with a slow grin. "I'll still be here when it all goes pear-shaped."
Robert exhaled through his nose. Blood-sucking opportunists, all of them.
Nicole cut in smoothly, her smile razor-sharp. "Some ideas aren't for sale."
Wickers chuckled, unmoved. "Touché. Still… think of what this little second skin could do, if pointed in the right direction."
"Nothing dangerous, I'm sure," Robert replied, his voice flat.
"Oh, I'm sure that's not true."
"It. Is," Robert said through clenched teeth.
To Wickers' credit, he didn't flinch. Just kept smiling like he'd already won.
"You're riding high right now, I get it. But what happens after?"
"After what?"
"After the applause fades. After the money dries up. Maybe we'll see you at Bio-deonTech."
He sipped his drink and walked off, throwing one last line over his shoulder. "Anything can be dangerous in the right hands."
Robert watched him go, jaw tight. That was the cost of recognition—vultures like Wickers sniffing around, waiting for their chance. The party was shiny on the outside, but underneath? It was a battlefield of ideologies.
Some were here to celebrate progress. Others came to shop.
From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Summers and Wickers in deep conversation, already vibing like old friends. It wasn't surprising. Both had millions sunk into their labs. Robert was just trying to stretch thirty thousand dollars long enough to prove his work mattered.
Still, the night had its moments.
He talked shop with Dr. Anneka Vos, whose team was working on a biodegradable microchip, and later with Professor Hanson—his first mentor. The man gripped Robert's hand firmly.
"Scientist of the Year. I'm proud of what you've done," Hanson said.
That one hit different. Deeper. More real than any applause ever could.
Nicole returned with Daniel in tow, his tie covered in crumbs.
"The verdict is in guys," Daniel announced seriously. "This blueberry cake is the best cake I've ever tasted. Sorry, Mom— it's got yours beat. Hands down."
Robert burst out laughing. Nicole elbowed his side. "Keep it up and you're going to have to end up marrying that big shiny trophy of yours."
Daniel shrugged. "Well… I'm gonna leave you guys to it. I need some more of that pie and the only thing here is that shiny trophy—and I can't eat that." He laughed as darted off toward the dessert table before Gabriel or anyone else could clear it out.
Robert grinned, watching him go. Maybe the night hadn't been perfect—but it damn sure felt close enough.