Chapter 78 – Paige's Methods
Ron's small frame was gradually enveloped by a towering, hulking shadow. When he looked up, he found Old George glaring down at him, red-faced with fury.
"Kid—where's my beer?"
The outcome was predictable: Ron got a thorough scolding. While U.S. law didn't allow corporal punishment, it didn't say a word about grounding. Not that it mattered much to Ron.
Don't forget—he was the quarterback of his high school football team.
Anyone who knows football understands: the quarterback is the soul of the team, the initiator of every offensive play.
Ron's passes were as precise as guided missiles, and combined with footwork and speed rivaling any running back, he'd become the team's secret weapon. So even under house arrest, he could still sneak out for games and practice—and even find time to look after Paige.
It was around then that Paige first started to take an interest in football—or more accurately, she didn't really love the sport itself. What she loved was the person who played it.
If you had to pin down the reason, it probably started in the darkest moment of her life, when the warmth of that hand gripping her wrist had pulled her back into the light.
---
California Institute of Technology, Howard's lab.
While Howard and Rajesh were practically bouncing around in each other's arms in their excitement, Ron finally spotted the corner of a skirt peeking around the doorway. If he wasn't mistaken, that had to be Paige.
"The flight control program works, right? Good. The rest is up to you two," Ron said as he turned to leave—only to double back a moment later.
"If you end up registering a patent for this, remember to split the ownership five ways. One share each for you two, and I'll take three shares for myself. We clear?"
"Absolutely, my dear boss."
Howard and Rajesh gave him an exaggerated hat-tip in unison.
---
When Ron stepped out of the lab, Paige was no longer by the door. But she was a girl who spent most of her time holed up indoors—there was no way she could outrun a professional operative.
Sure enough, after slipping around a corner, Ron finally caught up and pinned her against the wall in a classic "kabe-don."
"You came all the way here—yet you can't even be bothered to say a proper hello?"
Paige lifted her chin, glaring up at him with those dazzling jewel-like eyes.
"If your idea of a 'proper hello' is this—looking like sexual harassment—then I'll pass. Do you really want me to call the police right now and have you thrown in jail?"
"You've got to be kidding. Who'd even think about harassing someone built like a—"
Ron stopped mid-sentence. He finally noticed something he'd overlooked.
Maybe it was because it had been too long since they'd seen each other in person, with all their contact confined to calls and messages—but Paige didn't look anything like the girl he remembered.
And as if to deliberately provoke him for mocking her figure, she leaned forward, pressing her proud chest against him with a little defiant shove.
Ron was instantly dumbfounded. The last time he'd seen Paige, this place had looked like an empty airfield big enough to land a jumbo jet.
Even Paige, with her genius-level intellect, couldn't help feeling smug at the shock on his face.
"Looks like someone owes me an apology for those 'child-sized' comments, hmm?"
"You…how did you even do this?" Ron stammered, still trying to process it. "This is…this is unreal. Don't tell me you…got implants?"
He mimed blowing up a balloon with his hands.
Paige blushed scarlet, then punched him hard in the chest.
"I would never do some ridiculous surgery on myself!"
"Then how?" Ron scratched his head awkwardly. "I mean, I remember your mom didn't exactly…well, genetically speaking, you shouldn't have…you know?"
As he spoke, he carefully chose his words—he had no intention of provoking this deceptively harmless-looking girl in front of him.
Other people didn't know, but Ron did. Those lunatics in Texas who liked to carve people up with chainsaws—after strutting around for a while, they'd mysteriously vanished without a trace.
And the time and place of their disappearance? They lined up perfectly with Paige's school field trip.
Anyone could say that was just a coincidence, but Ron didn't buy it for a second.
Even without proof, he was convinced that their vanishing had everything to do with Paige.
"It's an experimental drug that hasn't been released to the market yet." Paige's eyes gleamed with pride. "Relax—no toxins, no side effects. I ran plenty of tests. I found it buried in the internal trial data of a pharmaceutical company."
"The last test subject, Max, went from an A-cup to an E-cup in no time. She's working at a little diner now."
Max?
Ron repeated the name silently, certain Paige was implying something. And sure enough—he did know a Max. Surely it couldn't be the same—
"Oh, it's exactly who you're thinking of." Paige looked him straight in the eye. "You always said you liked big ones, didn't you? So…are you satisfied now?"
Before Ron could react, she leaned in and kissed him on the lips, gathering all her courage.
"Paige…you really didn't have to do this." Ron didn't even know what to say anymore. The Paige standing in front of him was nothing like the girl he'd met back when they bonded over TV shows.
But then again—aside from Sheldon—who didn't change when they grew up?
"No. I do have to." Paige bit her lip stubbornly. "I don't have any family left now. So I have to hold onto you—no matter what it takes. Do you understand, Ron?"
"You're not planning to drug me and lock me in a basement, are you?" Ron tried to joke to lighten the mood—
—but to his dismay, her eyes only turned more serious.
"That depends on whether you cooperate. Though…I admit, that would be my last resort." She tilted her head and gave a mischievous little smile. "Honestly, do you really think I can't handle a big dumb brute with nothing but muscle? Or do you want to guess what I put in my lipstick?"
Ron felt a chill crawl down his spine.
He'd almost forgotten—Paige wasn't just an elite hacker. She was also a brilliant chemist who liked concocting all kinds of questionable substances. Some of them had even been useful to him on past cases.
I swear, Ron thought, I'm done getting mixed up with people whose IQ is off the charts and who have the skills to back it up.
He opened his mouth to protest—only to discover he couldn't move. No matter how hard he tried, all he could manage was a slight parting of his lips, mumbling out a garbled, meaningless sound.
Shit! I've been drugged!
Paige calmly guided him back against the wall, supporting his limp body. Out of the corner of his eye, he finally noticed a little rolling cart that she must have stashed there ahead of time, ready and waiting.
So…she planned all of this from the start?!
"Ron…" she whispered in his ear as she maneuvered him onto the cart, "…tonight, you're mine."
Ron's vision began to blur. As consciousness slipped away, one last thought burned itself into his mind:
Goddamn it—this is literally kidnapping! There goes my reputation!