The clinical silence of the research center's private wing felt more like a tomb than a sanctuary as Mild stepped out of Skyler's room. He was exhausted, the emotional weight of Skyler's confession still clinging to him. But standing in the hallway, silhouetted against the floor-to-ceiling windows, was the man who held the keys to the kingdom: Former President DuPont.
DuPont didn't approach Mild with the authority of a world leader; he approached with the calculated vulnerability of a grieving father. He placed a heavy, manicured hand on Mild's shoulder, guiding him toward a quiet alcove.
"She's sleeping," DuPont said, his voice a low rumble. "It's the first time in months she's looked at peace. You've done more for her in a few hours than a team of specialists did in a month."
Mild kept his expression neutral. "I'm just doing my job, Mr. President."
