The soft hum of the projection screen faded as Kiefer leaned back slightly in her chair at the corner of the private meeting room. She had been quiet for most of the discussion, listening to Davis and his internal core team of White Pharma brainstorm on funding solutions now that Katherine's father, Heaven Samuel, had begun pulling back resources and tightening political pressure on their investors.
White Pharma was facing a financial bottleneck. The board remained uneasy after Katherine's exposure and departure. Despite Kiefer being hailed as a visionary for the HERBAS project, whispers of instability circulated through the corporate grapevine. The Samuel family's influence was too vast, too rooted in the veins of this city.
Kiefer clenched her hands in her lap. She had stayed in the shadows long enough.
Davis glanced at her, eyes questioning. "You're quiet. That usually means something is building in your head."
She met his gaze. "I've been thinking about something," she said slowly. "About who I used to be."
Davis blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I wasn't always Kiefer Samuel," she said softly. "I mean—yes, that's my name, and that's who I've always been, but… before my mother fell ill, I had different lives. Different faces. I did work under aliases. I was part of underground medical research teams. I submitted grant proposals under pseudonyms. I helped build a network that still remembers me, even if I walked away from them."
Davis sat up straighter. "Are you saying…"
"I left it all behind because I had to be there for my mother," she said. Her voice broke slightly, but she held it steady. "I abandoned my names, deleted my traces, and cut ties. But they're still there. And some of those identities… they've won global recognition, signed contracts, and more importantly—have untouched funding accounts in places even the Samuels can't reach."
Davis's expression was unreadable. "And if you bring those identities back?"
"I can reroute some of the dormant funds to White Pharma's innovation division—under development grants already approved years ago. I have the access. I just never planned to touch them again."
"You'd be exposing yourself."
Kiefer nodded. "I know. But this company, this project… it's worth it. You're worth it."
Silence stretched for a beat between them. Then Davis leaned forward, voice low and laced with something heavier than gratitude.
"Do you have any idea how many people would kill for this kind of leverage?"
"I do," she said quietly. "That's why no one can know until the transaction is complete. Not even the board."
Davis exhaled slowly. "I'll protect you. Whatever name you go by."
Kiefer offered a small smile. "I believe you."
---
Later that night, in her personal space at the White Mansion, Kiefer sat in front of a secure, untraceable terminal. It had taken her weeks to rebuild the encryption pathways to her forgotten selves: Althea Rune, a clinical trial strategist; Mira Elion, a biotech investor known in the Eurasian sector; and Reya Vale, the ghost behind several philanthropic tech funds linked to open-source medicine.
Each identity had served a purpose. Each had held power.
She entered biometric codes only she could recall, breathing deeply as each system verified her presence. Slowly, the walls of her past unfolded before her eyes—like old friends knocking after years of silence.
The funding streams were intact. The networks remained loyal. She sent one message under each alias, encrypted and sealed:
> "Project HERBAS is real. Medical innovation is under siege by political influence. I'm bringing the work home. Reconnect. Fund. Silence until activation."
She leaned back. Her pulse was steady. There was no turning back now.
---
At White Pharma headquarters two days later, murmurs floated through the boardroom about a sudden influx of capital appearing in their innovation development line. Davis remained strategically vague, offering only that "new partners with old stakes have reconnected to support HERBAS."
The board couldn't question the legitimacy of the funds—they had been filed under long-standing but dormant sponsorships. What stunned them most was the speed and precision of the transactions.
Only Davis and one other person knew the truth.
Kiefer sat in silence during the meeting, her face composed, watching as the Samuels' influence began to falter under the weight of something they hadn't anticipated—Kiefer's past.
And she hadn't even begun to show them the full extent of what she could do.