I am a necromancer, and I absolutely love America.

Chapter 100 You Actually Betrayed Me (24,000 words completed, please vote and subscribe)

Calderson froze for a full ten seconds before sending Christina a message: "We've already agreed on 800 million, what are you doing?"

That paper has already been submitted!

"I want 1000 million," Christina replied calmly.

Calderson glared at Christina angrily and quickly sent a message: "We agreed on 800 million before, and I've already done a lot of communication with the other professors. You suddenly changed your mind. How am I supposed to explain this to them?"

Christina calmly replied, "That's your problem."

"You're ruining Princeton's reputation!" Calderson was losing control, a huge fear weighing on his heart.

He couldn't imagine what kind of trouble would come after the paper fraud was exposed.

He would not only lose face, but also his job. If his opponents target him, he might even lose his tenure and become completely unemployed. Such an important position as the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences at Princeton University is coveted by countless people!

Christina simply replied, "You're the one who ruined Princeton's reputation. You're not only going to give me $1000 million in funding, but you're also going to retract that paper."

"The paper has been sent out!"

"That's your problem too. I don't want to see a fake paper published in a journal; you're ruining Princeton's reputation," Christina retorted.

Calderson's face contorted in pain.

After the judges finished their discussion, they said to Calderson, "Dean, I think 400 million is a more appropriate figure."

Calderson remained silent for a long time before slowly raising his head.

Everyone was looking at him.

Calderson gritted his teeth and said, "Professor Christina Shepard has been very effective in her work all along, and I think she deserves 1000 million."

While he claims to believe it, in reality, as the dean, he has veto power.

Unlike other internal funding approvals, the review meeting for unrestricted funding approvals is essentially a formality.

The deans of each college could make all the decisions, but that would bring huge controversy.

The reason for having a review committee mechanism is just to make a show of it, using meetings to resolve internal conflicts.

This is similar to some meetings at the University of Tokyo. Why do the leaders at the University of Tokyo like to hold meetings so much?

Because decisions made after a meeting are organizational decisions, leaders are no longer personally responsible.

Simply put, it's about shifting blame.

Caldersen's remarks broke with this convention and amounted to acting arbitrarily.

These words caused an uproar in the meeting room.

Everyone stared at Calderson in astonishment, hardly believing their ears.

The total was 1500 million, and Christina took 1000 million of it!

Some professors who had already communicated with Calderson were even more confused, wondering why Calderson would suddenly change his mind.

They had already privately agreed to give Christina 800 million, so how did it become 1000 million?

Although only 200 million was squeezed out, it is at least the allocation of funds for three professors.

Calderson officially announced: "The Academy has decided to award Professor Christina Shepard's de-aging project $1000 million. This research is extremely imaginative and has the potential to change the future of humanity. Professor Shepard's abilities are worth a significant investment!"

Christina nodded slightly: "Thank you for your trust, Dean. I have something to attend to, so I'll be leaving now."

Christina got up and left, and Richard followed suit.

Dominic's smile froze on his face.

Christina took 1000 million!

With only 500 million left, how much does he have left?

Richard patted him on the shoulder and whispered, "Keep it up."

Dominic, no longer caring about arguing with Richard, anxiously asked, "Teacher, what about my money?"

"Shut up!" Calderson snapped.

How can you say such a thing here? What do you mean by "your money"? That's the project's money!

Dominic was deeply disappointed. He had struggled for this money for a long time, and it was almost in his hands, but now this had happened?

"Why should I?!"

"Why does she deserve so much!"

"Because her name is Shepard!"

After Christina left, the entire venue descended into complete chaos.

Calderson was forced to face a chaotic attack from a group of professors.

He spent countless hours and exerted himself to reach a final agreement.

Ultimately, the 13 professors shared the final 500 million, while Christina kept 1000 million for herself.

Dominic also became the biggest victim, as he didn't receive a single penny.

This was a compromise that Calderson had to make in order to quell public anger.

If he doesn't step in and give up on Dominic's behalf, there will only be $300 million in funding. (The project was applied for under Calderson's name.)

In a field of competition among tenured professors at Princeton, it would be unacceptable for a doctoral student to receive 40% of the funding.

They could accept that Christina had taken their funds, but they knew they were no match for her.

But what are you, Dominic?

The meeting ended in chaos, with everyone carrying varying degrees of dissatisfaction and resentment, some directed at Christina, others at Calderson.

Everyone at the scene left.

Dominic remained seated, looking somewhat dazed.

He looked around; the room was now empty except for Calderson, who was still packing up his things, his face grave.

Dominic asked, "Teacher, didn't you say you'd get it for me? You promised. Why the sudden change—"

"Stop talking." Calderson's voice was icy.

Dominic couldn't accept this outcome; his voice trembled as he asked, "Why? Why! What did Christina promise you? Did she bribe you with the project? Or did you never intend to help me in the first place?"

A profound sense of disappointment, stemming from dashed hopes, overwhelmed Dominic, leaving him in a state of utter confusion and barely able to control his words.

"Enough!" Calderson roared.

"No! Not enough!" Dominic stood straight, looking directly at his teacher.

His eyes were red, not from crying, but from being bloodshot with extreme anger.

Caldersen finally turned to look at him.

His expression wasn't one of guilt, but rather one of barely suppressed anger.

"Christina found out about the data changes in our paper. You betrayed me!"

Dominic froze on the spot: "Impossible! How did she know?"

Calderson sneered, "Yes, impossible. How did she know? There were only the two of us present the whole time. If you didn't tell me, tell me how she knew?"

As he spoke, he showed the messages on his phone to Dominic.

Dominic was gripped by immense fear: "Professor! Let me explain, it wasn't me! That's my thesis, I have no reason to reveal it! It was a hacker! It must have been a hacker!"

"A hacker? That damn computer was offline!" Calderson stared at Dominic with anguish. "What did Richard say to you before he left? Did he invite you to the cell lab?"

He originally intended to groom Dominic as his academic successor.

But this guy actually betrayed himself!

He simply couldn't understand what Dominic was thinking.

What benefits would you gain from siding with Christina?

But that's exactly what happened.

Caldersen had just finished revising the paper when Christina received both the original and revised data!

What does this mean?

This means that Dominic has been colluding with Christina for a long time!

He used to work with Dominic to revise a lot of data; what about those papers?

Could he have been sold to Christina by Dominic as well?

Dominic, that traitorous Judas!

Once the seed of doubt is planted between two people, it will sprout and can never be erased.

"Whether you did it intentionally or unintentionally," Calderson said coldly, "get out of my laboratory."

Dominic was in a state of utter confusion.

Losing a project is only a temporary pain, but losing Caldersen's trust would mean the end of everything.

What went wrong?!

Calderson certainly couldn't reveal that he had altered the paper, as that would be tantamount to handing Christina leverage over it.

But how was the information leaked?

How can a computer that is physically disconnected be hacked?

"That's it!" Dominic cried out, as if grasping at a last straw, "It's a USB drive! It's a USB drive for copying data! There's a Trojan on it!"

"Enough! Stop talking! I'll find a way to retract that paper." Calderson really didn't want to waste any more words with Dominic. He suppressed his anger, stood up, and smoothly pushed his chair back under the table. "Your faculty application can wait. Now is not the right time."

After saying that, Calderson picked up the materials, left the meeting room, and turned off the lights.

The room was plunged into darkness.

Dominic stood alone in the darkness for over an hour without moving.

He couldn't accept the harsh reality.

Before the meeting, his future looked bright; he was about to secure a $200 million project and reach the pinnacle of his career and life.

After the meeting, he lost funding for the project and research.

Even more terrifying is that he lost Calderson's trust!

His mind had turned to mush, and all sorts of chaotic thoughts came rushing in.

Just then, my phone chimed.

He numbly picked up his phone; it was a notification of paper retraction: "Your paper, 'An Investigation into the Interventional Patterns of Yamanaka Factor Stage-Induced Somatic Cell Epigenetic Reprogramming and Telomere Homeostasis,' has been retracted at the request of Dr. Carlson-Heywood of Princeton University due to data transcription errors. For further details, please contact us at...'"

'

Dominic covered his face with his hands.

Finished!

My future is ruined!

It's definitely a hacker!

Damn hackers!

The fact that the news reached Christina so quickly means that the hacker had already infiltrated Calderson's or her own computer.

He had no idea how long the other party had been monitoring him or how much intelligence they had obtained.

If the data from his previous paper fabrications were also released, he would be completely finished.

What should I do?

What should I do?

Dominic was terrified, bewildered, and at a loss.

Christina asked admiringly, "Master, how did you obtain the evidence that he fabricated the evidence?"

Richard said nothing.

Christina wasn't particularly angry about Calderson's behavior.

Paper fraud has always been a persistent problem in the scientific field, and no country or academic sector is exempt.

Many cutting-edge scientific experiments, once conducted, can no longer be verified by later generations, becoming isolated evidence. You can neither prove it is true nor prove it is false.

That's really annoying.

The most cutting-edge technologies are so rare that there are only a handful of researchers. There might only be four or five people in the world who can reach that level. Who knows whether what he publishes is a genuine paper or a fake one?

Therefore, this is a very common phenomenon.

Richard said calmly, "Calderson has no idea how many fake papers you've obtained. He won't oppose you anymore; in fact, he'll cooperate with you to cover up the scandal."

Christina smiled slightly: "I hope so."

With this leverage over her, Calderson would have no choice but to obey her every word from then on.

This will greatly increase her influence within the liberal arts college.

"Do you have enough money?"

"That's not enough. I need to find a private sponsor, like... Benjamin, that old guy is very rich." Christina opened her phone to contact someone and slowly searched.

Who is Benjamin?

"Benjamin Gray, chairman of Ruitu Biotechnology Group, is a Forbes 500 billionaire. Ruitu is a leading pharmaceutical company in the stem cell field, so they must be interested in the results of this technology. Moreover, Benjamin has always been my financial sponsor, and we have been friends for many years. He is very interested in anti-aging and eternal youth, and has invested in dozens of longevity projects over the past 20 years, spending more than 20 billion yuan. He had previously wanted me to research this area, but I had never agreed because there was no technological breakthrough. Now, I think I can talk to him about it."

Richard nodded.

It's not uncommon for the elite in the United States, and indeed the elite around the world, to research rejuvenation; in fact, it's quite common.

For these people at the pinnacle of humanity, every moment in this world is precious, and they are reluctant to leave it.

But lifespan and time are fair to everyone. No matter how reluctant they are to let go, death is there, waiting for everyone.

To resist death, or at least stay away from that damned Grim Reaper, they would do anything.

Top billionaires spend over $100 million a year on maintaining their youth and health.

For example, blood transfusion therapy involves some wealthy individuals injecting children's plasma into their bodies, costing $20 per session.

As for where the children's blood came from... don't ask that.

To this end, they have invested a lot of money in researching related fields, and many beauty, medical and cosmetic technologies are byproducts of this research.

"OK," Richard said casually.

What happened next was none of his business; Christina would handle it herself.

As soon as Isabella arrived at her office, Byron called: "Come to my office."

"Yes!" Isabella cursed inwardly: That damned old man! Why hasn't he retired yet?

As long as this old man doesn't step down from his position as the IAB's Director of Internal Affairs, she'll remain second-in-command.

Isabella composed herself and went to Byron's office.

Byron, head bowed and wearing his reading glasses, glanced at the documents, but his words were dripping with murderous intent: "Isabella, you've repeatedly tried to access top-secret documents and even secretly communicated with the engineers in the archives system. What are you trying to do?"

Isabella's heart skipped a beat, but she feigned confusion and said, "Byron, I don't understand what you're talking about."

At this moment, Byron's eyes, which had been drowsy, suddenly brightened.

He slowly stood up, looking directly at Isabella: "Don't think I don't know what you're planning, Isabella. You bitch, you're helping Brian, aren't you? I know what you've done, I know everything! Did you climb into Brian's bed again?!"

Isabella's expression was somewhat stiff, her mind racing.

She had no idea where she had slipped up and that the old man had discovered her.

"I do not understand..

"7

"Enough!" Byron interrupted. "I've been battling Brian for decades. I know him too well."

"You've been fighting him for decades?" Isabella asked dismissively.

Stop trying to glorify yourself, you old fool!

Brian was already the police chief more than 20 years ago, while you were just a police inspector back then.

Only after he left the NYPD could you slowly climb to the position of Director of the IAB based on your seniority.

What makes you think you can compete with Brian?

Brian served as a congressman for nearly twenty years, and you're telling me you've been fighting him in the NYPD for decades?

Are you trying to outsmart the air yourself?

Isabella vehemently denied feigning ignorance: "Byron, I really don't know what you're talking about."

Byron sneered, "What Brian wants is here with me. I can delete it, but he has to come see me in person. Go tell Brian I'm waiting for him at home."

Byron glanced at his watch and continued working: "Time is running out."

Isabella walked out of the office with a grim expression.

The situation is out of control!

Byron has noticed her change of stance, but it's unclear whether he has informed Theodore or Henry Carter.

If Theodore and Henry found out, she definitely wouldn't be able to stay at the NYPD.

Even if I don't tell those two old bastards now, my situation will be very bad. Byron is the head of the IAB!

If they deliberately target her, Isabella will lose all power in the IAB!

Now that the opportunity to have it both ways is gone, I have no choice but to go all out with Brian!

Isabella was both nervous and incredibly excited; the feeling of battle made her blood boil.

She picked up the phone and called Brian: "Things are bad. Byron found out about my actions and he wants to talk to you. I'm going to be in serious trouble, you have to act."

"Don't worry!" Brian said calmly, his voice incredibly steady, as if he had absolute control over everything. "I'll take care of him."

"I hope so." Isabella hung up the phone. "I can't hold on much longer."

She also had to be prepared for the worst; if Brian proved unreliable, those short videos would come in handy!

Isabella started the car, her beautiful eyes filled with ruthlessness.

Brian hung up the phone, his composure vanishing instantly.

Isabella has been exposed.

Another nail I had at the NYPD has been removed.

Moreover, I must protect her immediately; Isabella is a very useful pawn.

She has a lot of videos of men, and if she pushes herself too far, who knows what she might do.

"Brian, it's your turn." On the distant green, a plump, kind-faced, white-haired old man waved his hand, his cheeks rosy, and he looked quite like Santa Claus.

"Okay, Alger, I'm coming." Brian put away his phone, beaming, and strode over.

Alger Vaughn, the King of New York and the current Governor of New York, looks no different from any other elderly man.

The two played golf for 30 minutes under the Hawaiian sun, just like any other old friends.

Even though Brian was extremely anxious, he could only patiently talk about basketball skills and the weather in Hawaii.

Alger, panting, leaned on his club: "I'm a bit tired. I'm getting old; I can't keep going for even a short time."

Brian understood and stopped.

The caddie took the clubs from both players.

Alger added, "It's nice here; you can see the ocean in the distance."

Several golf carts that had been following the two immediately moved forward.

Several servants quickly and efficiently unloaded various items.

A moment later, a parasol, a deck chair, a small table, and a small refrigerator were set up on the spot, from which chilled red wine was taken out.

A beautiful blonde girl knelt before the two men, pouring them drinks and cutting their cigars. She looked to be only thirteen or fourteen years old.

After finishing their tasks, everyone retreated several dozen meters away and waited patiently in the distance.

Brian was very envious.

This is the kind of life old Qian enjoys.

Alger took a puff of his cigar, gazed at the Pacific Ocean, and calmly said, "Brian, I'm glad you came to see me."

Brian said respectfully, "I have always had great respect for you, Mr. Vaughn."

"Really?" Alger laughed heartily. "That's good..."

'

A dozen minutes later, Brian returned with a grim expression.

Doug stepped forward and asked, "How is it?"

Brian gritted his teeth, his face grave: "Alger will support me."

He didn't mention the cost, and Doug didn't ask.

Doug asked, "When are we going back?"

"Now! Immediately!" Brian gritted his teeth. "I hate Hawaii! I don't want to stay in this godforsaken place for even a second longer!"

"OK! The next flight is in an hour and a half." Doug checked the flight schedule.

"Let's go! To the airport now!"

OK!

'

As they walked, Brian took out his phone and dialed: "O'Connor."

"Mr. Anderson."

"I will fully support you in becoming the Chief Superintendent of Police."

O'Connor paused for a moment: "Miles is the Commissioner General."

"He won't be anymore soon," Brian said coldly.

"What do I need to do?" O'Connor asked decisively, her voice becoming eager.

"I'll give you a number. Call it from Miles' office phone, don't say anything, just hang up as soon as it connects, and don't let anyone find out."

O'Connor stared at the unfamiliar number on her phone.

He didn't know who it was, but knowing that number would definitely be fatal.

He didn't know how Brian did it, but he figured it was probably some kind of frame-up.

So what? As long as I can climb to the top, that's all that matters.

For the first time in so many years, he saw an opportunity to oust Miles from the position of Superintendent of Police, and he would never give it up!

3 a.m. is when everyone is most tired.

O'Connor then put on his police hat and walked out of the office.

The echoes of police officers' footsteps as they finished their questioning still lingered in the corridor, along with the intermittent calls from their walkie-talkies.

The NYPD's crackdown on gangs continues, and the entire NYPD is in a state of chaos during this period, with most officers deployed.

He sidestepped the passing police officers, quietly pried open the spare side door to Miles' office, slipped inside, and locked it behind him.

The office was decorated much more upscale than his own. A large solid wood desk was piled with case files from various districts. Cold light shone through the blinds into the corridor. O'Connor quickly walked around to the back of the desk, picked up the landline, and dialed without hesitation.

In an abandoned factory, BG gang leader Antonio and a group of core members are taking a break.

During this period, I was constantly on the run from the NYPD, living a very miserable life.

For some reason, the NYPD always manages to find their location!

Suddenly, music started playing!

"Fk!"

"who!

99

A group of gang members, now reduced to stray dogs, jumped up in fright, many of them even drawing their guns.

Everyone looked at Murphy.

Murphy said awkwardly, "Mine, mine."

The crowd cursed a couple of times.

"Fk!"

"That lunatic is making phone calls in the middle of the night."

"I'll fuck him to death later!"

Everyone lay down.

Only Antonio watched Murphy cautiously.

Murphy glanced at the number; he didn't recognize it, and it looked like a landline.

He was very puzzled, and a sense of foreboding rose in his heart.

The phone rang repeatedly.

It was extremely jarring in the quiet factory.

Antonio said coldly, "Catch it."

The others also sensed something was wrong and got up to stare at Murphy.

Murphy had no choice but to answer, forcing himself to: "Who?"

The opposite side was empty; there was no sound of people speaking.

A few seconds passed.

Snapped.

The phone hangs up.

Murphy sensed something was wrong, and cold sweat instantly poured down his body.

Antonio snatched the phone, glanced at the number, and asked, "Who is it?"

Murphy forced a smile and said, "Boss, I don't know, I really don't know."

"Hmph." Antonio said to one of his underlings, "Go, find someone to look up this number!"

"yes!"

A moment later, the underling returned, exclaiming in shock, "Boss, this is the NYPD's landline!"

Murphy felt a sudden darkness engulf him, and his whole body trembled like a leaf.

Fk!

Henry!

Your MF (Magic Find) has ruined me!

Everyone immediately looked at Murphy.

Antonio sneered, "No wonder the cops kept finding our location, no wonder your investigation of the undercover agent yielded no results—you were the undercover agent! Murphy, I've treated you well, and you betrayed me!"

Everyone's eyes were filled with overwhelming hatred.