Chapter 10

Alston Scott POV:

The sting on my cheek was a physical manifestation of the seismic shift that had just occurred. My hand still pressed to the reddening skin. Her words echoed in the sudden, cavernous silence of the corridor: "I hate you."

I had never seen her like that. Not in ten years. The quiet, efficient Ellie. The one who always anticipated my needs, who silently corrected my mistakes, who was simply there. Her eyes had been blazing, not with the controlled passion of a scientist, but with a raw, visceral fury. A fury that had, for the first time, pierced through my carefully constructed emotional detachment.

Hate you. The words resonated with an unnerving clarity.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to process this irrational outburst. Why? Because of the paper? Because of Kiara? It was all so... illogical. My decision to credit Kiara was a pragmatic one. Her profile, her connections, her continued presence at the institute. Ellie was leaving. It was a simple, scientific cost-benefit analysis.

I pulled out my phone, her name already in my recent calls. I needed to explain. To clarify. To bring order back to this sudden, chaotic mess. But the call wouldn't connect. "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable."

I tried again. And again. Nothing.

A cold prickle of unease snaked up my spine. Ellie never turned off her phone. Never. She was meticulously organized, always reachable for urgent data points.

I needed to find her. To reason with her. This emotional outburst was disruptive. It was inefficient.

I headed for the dorms. The institute dorms. Her temporary accommodation. I knew her room number. I had helped carry her box, hadn't I? A small, almost imperceptible tremor ran through me as I remembered the casual intimacy Kiara had displayed, the way Ellie had clutched the box defensively. Irrelevant data, I had classified it then. Now, it felt... significant.

At her door, I knocked. No answer. I knocked harder. Nothing.

"Ellie?" I called out, my voice echoing in the empty hallway.

A cleaning staff member rounded the corner, pushing a cart. "Looking for Dr. Cleveland, sir? She checked out this morning. Said she was transferring."

My breath hitched. Transferring. I knew that. But not now. Not like this.

"Do you know where she went?," I asked, a strange tightness in my chest.

The woman shrugged. "Just said she was leaving. Had a small bag. Didn't look back."

Didn't look back.

My mind raced. The dorms. The house. She had sold the house. Our house. The one she had picked out the tiles for. My logical brain reeled. Where would she go? She had nowhere else.

A sudden, overwhelming surge of panic. It was like a piece of critical software had crashed, leaving my entire system in disarray. Ellie. She was... gone.

I tried calling again. Still nothing. I tried her personal email. No response.

I walked back to my office, the familiar surroundings now feeling alien, empty. The silence was deafening. I sat at my desk, trying to focus on Kiara's latest draft, but the words blurred. My mind kept replaying Ellie's blazing eyes, the sting on my cheek, the finality of her hatred.

I looked around my office. The meticulously organized files. The perfectly calibrated instruments. The quiet, orderly space I had come to rely on. Who had maintained this order for the past decade? Who had ensured every detail was taken care of, every loose end tied, allowing me to delve into the abstract without distraction?

Ellie.

A wave of something, cold and suffocating, washed over me. It was like a sudden vacuum. The air felt thin. My chest tightened. It wasn't just panic. It was... absence. A vast, terrifying emptiness where something essential had always been.

I saw the calendar on my desk. The wedding date, circled in red. Just a few weeks away. I hadn' t thought about it much, beyond the logistical planning Ellie had handled. It was just another item on the itinerary.

But now... now it wasn't.

A wedding. My wedding. With Ellie.

A strange thought bloomed in my mind, illogical, unexpected. I had expected her to be there. Always. I had even felt a faint, almost scientific curiosity about the ceremony itself. A public affirmation. A new phase of... stability.

I would talk to her at the wedding. Explain everything. She would understand. She always did. This was just a misunderstanding, born of her temporary emotional distress.

I would see her there. We would resolve this. I would make her understand.