Chapter 7

I pushed myself mercilessly. Days blurred into nights, fueled by black coffee and a grim determination. My team, a dedicated group of scientists who believed in my vision, worked alongside me, correcting the sabotaged data, re-running simulations, and meticulously verifying every single parameter. My body ached, my eyes burned, but my mind was sharper than ever. Nothing else mattered now. Only the data. Only the truth.

During a rare break, I reached out to my contacts at the academic institutions Keeley had proudly listed on her fabricated resume. A series of cold, precise inquiries. The answers confirmed my suspicions: Keeley Nguyen had never been employed, or even enrolled, in any of the prestigious programs she claimed. My sister, with her vast network and legal team, had already compiled a devastating dossier on Keeley's true background: a string of academic misconducts, a dropped out PhD program, and a history of self-promotion built on elaborate lies. Her "prodigy scientist" persona was nothing but a carefully constructed house of cards.

My lead researcher, Dr. Chen, approached me, his face etched with worry. "Elise," he said, his voice low. "The deadline for the public presentation is approaching. The data is stable, yes, but we still have so many unanswered questions. And Graham's condition... it's deteriorating rapidly. The gene therapy needs to be implemented soon, or it might be too late."

I looked at him, my eyes hard. "It will be ready, Dr. Chen. And it will be perfect." I paused, then continued, "But we will present it differently. We will expose the truth. All of it."

Dr. Chen' s eyes widened. "Elise, are you sure? This could be a huge scandal for the institute."

"The truth always comes out," I replied, my voice cold. "And it's time for Graham to choose. He can either acknowledge the truth and use the correct data, or he can continue to live his lie. His life depends on it."

An hour before the presentation, I made two calls. The first was to Graham.

"Graham," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "The presentation is about to begin. Don't be late."

He grunted something in response, a mix of annoyance and vague curiosity. I hung up.

The second call was to Corbett. "Book my flight," I commanded, my voice brisk. "For tonight. After the presentation. And tell the family to prepare the annulment papers. This ends tonight. All of it."

"Are you sure, Elise?" Corbett asked, his voice laced with concern. "You don't have to push yourself like this."

"I'm sure," I replied, my gaze fixed on the bustling preparations around me. "It's long overdue."

Graham arrived exactly on time, striding into the auditorium with an air of arrogant confidence. He wore a crisp suit, his expression aloof. He spotted me on stage, a faint surprise in his eyes. He made his way to the front row, Keeley trailing behind him, her arm linked possessively with his. She, too, looked stunning, her fake academic persona radiating an air of intellectual superiority.

He pulled out a small, intricately carved wooden box. "Elise," he said, holding it out to me. "Our anniversary gift. I had it specially commissioned. It's a replica of the first lab you ever worked in. A symbol of our shared journey."

I looked at the box, then at his face. He was smiling, a triumphant glint in his eyes. He still thought he had me fooled.

"Oh, and you know," he continued, glancing at Keeley with a smirk, "Keeley has graciously agreed to join our presentation tonight. She's going to share some of her brilliant insights into the gene therapy. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Wonderful," I repeated, my voice flat. I took the box, my fingers brushing his. He leaned in, attempting to kiss my cheek, but I subtly turned my head, his lips brushing only air. He didn't seem to notice. He just chuckled, a smug satisfaction in his eyes.

"Good. I knew you'd come around. After all, you always listen to me, don't you, my little scientist?" He squeezed my hand, then went to sit beside Keeley, whispering conspiratorially in her ear.

I watched them, a profound sense of calm washing over me. There was no anger left, no bitterness. Only a cold, clear resolve. The stage lights were hot, the audience a sea of faces. I walked to the podium, my steps steady, my gaze unwavering.

"Good evening, everyone," I began, my voice clear and strong, echoing through the packed auditorium. "Tonight, I'm here to discuss the latest advancements in gene therapy for Harvey's Syndrome." I launched into a concise, professional overview of the project, detailing the complex scientific process, the challenges we'd faced, and the breakthroughs we'd achieved.

Suddenly, the large screen behind me, which had been displaying complex scientific diagrams, flashed. A new image appeared: a side-by-side comparison of two sets of data. One, meticulously annotated and verified, was ours. The other, filled with subtle yet critical discrepancies, was the one Keeley had tampered with.

A ripple went through the audience. Graham, in the front row, stiffened. Keeley's face went white.

"As you can see," I continued, my voice unwavering, "there has been a deliberate, malicious attempt to corrupt our core data. These falsifications, if implemented, would not only render the gene therapy ineffective but could also have catastrophic consequences for any patient receiving it." My gaze, cold and steady, landed directly on Keeley. "I believe the individual responsible for this sabotage is present in this room. And I demand that she immediately surrender the original, uncorrupted data. Lives depend on it."

Keeley froze, her eyes wide with terror. She tried to stammer a denial, "No... I... I just corrected some minor errors... it was for the good of the project..."

"Errors?" I cut her off, my voice sharp. "Or deliberate falsification to cover up your own incompetence? To steal credit for work you are incapable of performing?"

"She's lying!" Keeley shrieked, her voice cracking. She pointed a trembling finger at me. "She's trying to sabotage me! She's jealous of my success! She wants Graham dead!"

Graham' s brows furrowed. His gaze, filled with confusion and disappointment, met mine. "Elise," he said, his voice low, a plea for explanation. "What is all this? Are you really trying to hurt Keeley? Hurt me?"

I looked at him, truly looked at him, standing there, clinging to the lies. "Graham," I said, my voice echoing in the silent room. "Whose truth do you choose to believe? The one that could save your life, or the one that will destroy it?"

He hesitated, his eyes darting between me and Keeley. Then, he turned to Keeley, taking her hand. "I believe Keeley," he said, his voice firm, resolute. "She's a brilliant scientist. She would never do anything to harm my research. You, Elise, are just jealous. You're upset because she's better than you."

My heart, which I thought had already turned to stone, felt a final, agonizing crack. Better than me. He still thought that. I felt nothing. No anger, no sadness. Just a profound, liberating emptiness.

I looked at him, then at Keeley, clinging to him like a parasite. I turned away, the microphone clicking as I set it down. My work here was done. I had presented the truth. The choice was his.

I walked off the stage, my steps steady, my head held high. I didn't look back.

Corbett was waiting for me at the back of the auditorium, his face grim. He took my arm, his grip firm and reassuring. We walked out of the ballroom, leaving the stunned silence, the whispered accusations, and the shattered pieces of my past behind.

A week later, Graham stood in the opulent suite of the Ritz Carlton, meticulously arranging rose petals on the bed. He checked his phone for the tenth time, a frown deepening on his face. No reply from Elise. He' d sent her a flurry of messages, a mix of accusations and veiled pleas.

`Graham: Still sulking, Elise? Keeley' s data was a minor adjustment. Nothing to worry about. You' re overreacting. Come to the Ritz. I have a surprise for you.`

`Graham: I know you' re trying to make me jealous. It' s working. But you' re being ridiculous. Keeley knows her stuff. She' s a genius.`

`Graham: Come to the Ritz, Elise. We can talk about this. I have a special night planned for us. Just like old times.`

He put his phone down, a smug smile spreading across his face. He' d meticulously edited a short video montage, a collection of their "happy memories" together. Our wedding. Anniversaries. Holidays. He watched it, a sentimental sigh escaping his lips. He thought of Elise seeing it, her eyes filling with tears, her heart melting. She would cave. She always did. He laughed, imagining her walking through the door, ready to apologize, ready to beg for his forgiveness.

The hours ticked by. Elise didn't show. Graham's confidence slowly eroded, replaced by a gnawing anxiety. He tried calling her, but her phone went straight to voicemail. Pacing the suite, he finally snatched his keys. He would go to the lab. He would find her.

He burst into the dimly lit research institute, the silence a stark contrast to the buzzing energy he expected. The labs were empty. Elise' s office was dark. Her personal effects, once neatly arranged, were gone. A cold dread seeped into his bones.

He found one of the junior researchers still packing up some equipment. "Where's Elise?" Graham demanded, his voice tight with desperation. "Where is everyone?"

The researcher looked up, his eyes wide. "Dr. Morton? Oh, she... she accepted an international fellowship. She left this afternoon. Took all her personal research with her." He hesitated, then added, "She's become the youngest director of a new, highly funded institute overseas. Didn't you know? She's quite the legend in the field, even her former professor, Dr. Chen, praises her as a genius."

Graham stared, his mind reeling. Dr. Morton? Youngest director? Overseas? The words hit him like a physical blow, shattering his carefully constructed reality.