The screen fades to black, and I turn back to the audience, my gaze steady. “But we must be careful not to confuse fascination with glorification. To study someone like Ghost is to understand the dangers of unchecked power and the consequences of failing to see the warning signs before it’s too late. He’s a case study in what happens when brilliance and darkness collide. Thank you.”

The room erupts into applause, though it feels distant, muted against the pounding of my heart. I step back from the podium, my hands trembling as I clasp them together.

Ghost doesn’t move. His gaze lingers on me, his smirk fading into something more serious, more dangerous. For a moment, I think he might say something else, might push me further, but then he steps back into the shadows, disappearing into the crowd as if he was never there.

CHAPTER 42

The applause fades into the ambient hum of conversation as I step off the stage, my chest still tight with adrenaline. Dr. Melanie Corbin is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, her sharp heels clicking against the floor as she strides toward me. Her expression is warm but laced with a touch of urgency that I’ve come to recognize as normal for her.

“Geneva,” she says, her tone brisk but genuine. “That was phenomenal. I don’t think anyone in this room blinked for the last thirty minutes. You had them completely captivated.”

“Thank you, Dr. Corbin,” I reply, letting out a small breath of relief. “I’m glad it resonated. But I couldn’t have done it without the support of this department.”

“Don’t be modest,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “You earned that ovation.” Her expression darkens as she lowers her voice. “Though I could’ve done without that man interrupting you. Who was that?”

I keep my expression calm, though my pulse quickens at the mention of Ghost. “I was going to ask you the same thing, but I figured he must have been cleared to attend if he’s here.”

Dr. Corbin huffs, crossing her arms briefly. “Well, if he was cleared, he’s got a lot of nerve pulling that kind of stunt in the middle of your keynote. Honestly, it’s insulting. Not just to you but to the event itself.”

“I handled it,” I say, offering her a reassuring smile. “It’s not the first time someone’s tried to make themselves the center of attention during a talk. I doubt it’ll be the last.”

“Still,” she mutters, glancing toward the crowd as if she could spot him among the sea of faces. “I’ll be having a word with security about this. The last thing we need is more disruptions like that. You deserve better.”

“Thank you,” I say, my tone genuine, though my stomach sours at her indignation. The last thing I want is anyone digging into who Ghost is, or why he’s here. “What’s next? I assume there are people I need to meet?”

Her demeanor shifts instantly, irritation giving way to her usual professionalism. “Yes, of course. There are some key benefactors who’ve been dying to meet you. Let’s start with Daniel Cross.” She gestures toward a table near the stage where a group of well-dressed individuals are deep in conversation.

I follow her lead, stepping into the rhythm of handshakes, smiles, and carefully crafted small talk. Daniel Cross is charming and affable, quick to praise my work and the impact of the university. Luna Joya is equally engaging, gushing about the inspiration she felt during my speech.

But even as I move from one introduction to the next, I can’t shake the memory of Ghost’s smirk, his voice cutting through the room with unsettling ease. His presence lingers like a ghost, unseen but impossible to ignore.

“Geneva,” Dr. Corbin says, pulling me back to the present. “There’s one more person I’d like you to meet.”

She gestures toward the bar, where a tall man stands with a glass tumbler in hand. His tailored suit fits perfectly, and his air of authority is unmistakable.

“That is Victor Stanton,” she says, her voice lower. “He’s one of our most influential benefactors. I think you’ll find him interesting.”

I meet Stanton’s gaze as we approach, his dark eyes sharp and appraising. He smiles, extending his hand.

“Dr. Andrews,” he says smoothly. “Your reputation precedes you. That was an impressive speech.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stanton.” I take his hand. His grip is firm, his presence commanding. “Your support makes work like mine possible, and I’m grateful for it.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he says, his voice rich with a practiced charm. “Your insights into criminal psychology were fascinating. Especially your analysis of Ghost.” He releases my hand with a measured smile. “It’s rare to see someone distill such complexity into something so captivating. You certainly have a way with words.”

“Thank you. The goal is always to make the work accessible while honoring its depth.”

He nods, sipping his drink, his gaze steady but unreadable. Probably due to time spent in board meetings and negotiations. “You’ve certainly succeeded. Your childhood in Africa must’ve been an extraordinary experience.”

“It was.” My smile softens at the memory. “It gave me a broader perspective on the world. Beauty and hardship, progress and struggle. My parents always said it was impossible to leave that place unchanged.”

“They sound like remarkable people. You must have inherited a great deal of their passion for understanding others. How long were you there?”

“We moved when I was two.” The memories flicker to life in my mind: the bright sun, the sprawling landscapes, and the sense of wonder only a child could fully grasp. “We stayed until I was seven, and then we came back to the States.”

Stanton nods, his expression thoughtful. “Five years at such a formative age… That must have left a deep impression on you.”

“It did. It shaped the way I see people, communities, the world. My parents always immersed themselves in their work, and even at that age, I could see the impact they had on those around them.”

He drinks his beverage slowly, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that feels polite but unwavering. “An admirable legacy.”

“Thank you.”

Dr. Corbin steps forward then, her timing impeccable. “Victor, I’m glad you had a chance to speak with Geneva. She’s the best example of what this department can achieve.”

“Undoubtedly,” Stanton says, his gaze flicking to me one last time. “Dr. Andrews, it’s been a pleasure. I look forward to seeing how your work continues to evolve.”

“And I appreciate your support.”

As he turns and disappears into the crowd, I release a breath. Dr. Corbin gives me an encouraging pat on the arm. “He likes you,” she says with a grin. “That’s a good thing for us.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

As we move on to the next introduction, my thoughts return to Ghost. Throughout every handshake and every polite laugh, I can’t help but search for him. My gaze darts to the corners of the room, to the shadows that the light doesn’t quite reach. He’s nowhere to be seen.

Eventually, I hit my limit for socialization. I offer a gracious smile to Dr. Corbin. “If you don’t mind, I need to step out for a moment. Just to catch my breath.”

She waves me off with an understanding nod. “Of course. Take all the time you need. These things can be overwhelming.”

I weave through the crowd, my heels clicking against the marble floor as I slip past clusters of guests. The hotel venue is beautifully decorated, but I don’t appreciate it enough to stop, so I continue heading toward the balcony.

The cool night air washes over me when I step outside, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the enormous ballroom. For a moment, I simply close my eyes and breathe, letting the stress in my shoulders fade.