But when they turned around and realized it was Maeve Vance, they couldn't even stay mad.
Maeve was a campus legend—low-profile, lethal on paper, impossible not to notice. Of course she'd catch Simon Grover's attention.
Maeve stopped spinning the pen and smiled at Simon.
"Our philosophies don't match," she said lightly. "I doubt there's much to discuss."
That answer only sharpened Simon's curiosity.
"Let me hear your philosophy."
Maeve didn't bother being polite about it. "Mine is: fix the problem at the source."
Simon's expression stayed cool. "Be specific."
Maeve spoke evenly, like she was presenting a case file.
"Artificial heart technology is already close to mature."
"But after transplant, the biggest issue most patients can't escape is rejection."
"If Lab C has the resources to develop artificial hearts, why not shift your primary focus back to the patient's original heart?"
"Common heart diseases include coronary artery disease, hypertensive heart disease—"
"Rheumatic heart disease, pulmonary heart disease. Myocarditis, myocardial infarction…"
She listed them without pausing, like they were lines she'd memorized years ago.
"Develop targeted drugs for specific causes," she finished. "You reduce patient suffering, and you reduce the financial burden on families."
"In my opinion, no artificial organ will ever outperform the one nature gave us."
Simon clapped—slow, elegant, deliberate.
"Your philosophy is excellent," he said. "But it isn't operational."
"When a patient reaches the point of needing an artificial heart, it means the original is beyond saving."
Maeve smiled back, unruffled. "Then that's the real test of Lab C, isn't it?"
"If you decide the medical system can't restore a damaged heart, that's not realism. That's limitation."

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