“What is in your hand?” he demanded.
“A maintenance tool,” she said. “Your daughter requires regular adjustments.”
“Adjustments?” His voice shook. “You’ve been hurting my daughter.”
“Discipline isn’t hurt,” Miss Calva replied calmly. “The program requires it.”
“What program?”
“Project Seraphim,” she said. “You signed the authorization yourself two years ago.”
The words hit him like a punch.
“I signed what?” he whispered.
Eloin crawled toward him on her knees like she wasn’t sure she was allowed.
“Daddy,” she said. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
Ariston dropped to his knees and pulled her into his arms, careful of her scalp.
“No,” he said. “You didn’t cause anything. I failed you. But I’m here now.”
Miss Calva crossed her arms.
“Emotional attachment will compromise the research,” she said.
Ariston stood slowly, still holding Eloin’s hand.
“Research?” he repeated. “She’s my daughter, not an experiment.”
“She’s both,” Miss Calva said. “Check your contracts.”
His hands balled into fists—not to hit, but from a rage he’d never felt before.
“Get out,” he said. “You’re fired.”
“I don’t work for you,” she said. “I work for the program. Check who authorized it.”