“He trusted your timing,” Amara said. “He trusted your assurances. And when the field broke, you nearly went with him. Obsession is not the same thing as courage, Elias. Brilliance is not a waiver. If you run a live test again without full review and informed consent, I will intervene. Personally, if I have to.”

He felt the old defense rise, polished by months of hearings and blame. “You talk as if caution kept anyone safe. The board froze the work the moment it became politically ugly, then wrapped themselves in grief.”

Amara’s expression did not change. “Do not use his death to excuse your pride.”

Elias kept his eyes on the case. “It isn’t pride.”

Amara’s voice stayed level. “It is, in part. That’s what makes you dangerous.”

She let that stand. Then she picked up her coat from the chair by the lab door and left him with the packed cases and the low machine hum and the smell of cold food drifting in from the other room.

Long after the front door closed, Elias stayed where he was.

The townhouse held the dinner like a stain. Half-full glasses. A folded napkin on the floor near Jonas’s chair. Candle wax cooling in bent white lines. He moved through it without clearing much, switching off one light, then another, until the lab side stood out and the domestic side fell dim. He should have slept. He should have called Jonas back before the night hardened into positions. He should have sent Amara the raw data and let procedure come in and strip the work to pieces.