The piercing shriek ripped through the quiet hum of the lab, shattering the fragile peace I had found in my work. My hand, steady until now, faltered, almost dropping the delicate sample.

"Ellie Cleveland! Get out here, you ungrateful wretch!"

My blood ran cold. The voice, shrill and laced with venom, belonged to my mother.

I rushed out, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. In the main corridor, a spectacle was unfolding. My mother, disheveled and weeping dramatically, was being held back by a security guard. My father, his face flushed with anger and cheap alcohol, was shouting obscenities, pointing a trembling finger at me. And Jamie, ever the opportunist, stood a little behind them, filming the entire scene on his phone, a smug smirk plastered on his face.

"Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?" I demanded, my voice tight with humiliation. Coworkers peeked out of their labs, their whispers like daggers.

"What are we doing?" my father bellowed, lunging forward, forcing the guard to tighten his grip. "We're here because you owe us! You owe us for everything! For screwing up your golden opportunity! For leaving us high and dry!"

"She left us for dead, Dad!" Jamie chimed in, his phone held high. "She cut off her own family! Now that Alston guy's gone, she thinks she can just abandon us!"

My mother started wailing louder. "Your poor brother needs a loan for his business! And the house, Ellie! You promised us a new life! Now what are we supposed to do?"

"I don't owe you anything!" I retorted, my voice shaking. "I'm not your retirement plan, Jamie. And I certainly don't owe you for your irresponsible business ventures."

Jamie dropped his phone. His smirk vanished, replaced by a snarl. "Oh, you don't, do you? After everything we've done for you? After we put you through school? You think you're too good for us now, Dr. Cleveland?" He took a menacing step toward me.

Before I could react, he lunged. His hand connected with my face, a sickening crack echoing in the suddenly silent corridor. The force of the blow sent me sprawling, my head hitting the cold, hard linoleum with a dull thud. A sharp pain lanced through my jaw, and the taste of blood filled my mouth.

I lay there, dazed, the fluorescent lights swimming above me. The humiliation was a physical weight, pressing down, suffocating me. My own family. Here. Now.

"You think that's going to stop me?" I choked out, pushing myself up despite the throbbing pain. "I'm not giving you a single cent."

Jamie' s eyes, usually calculating, were now wild. He spotted a heavy, metal paperweight on a nearby desk. He snatched it up, his knuckles white. "You ungrateful bitch! I'll make you pay!" He raised the paperweight, his arm swinging back.

Just as the metal weapon began its downward arc, a blur of motion. A figure, tall and strangely agile, launched himself forward. A sickening thud. The paperweight clattered to the floor, missing me by inches. Jamie, disoriented, staggered back.

Alston.

He stood between me and Jamie, his arm now bleeding, a deep gash where the paperweight had struck him. His face, usually so devoid of emotion, was contorted in a grimace of pain and... something else. Protectiveness?

"Security!" Alston's voice, though strained, cut through the stunned silence. "Call the police. Get them out of here now."

The guards, suddenly galvanized, moved in swiftly. My family-my father still raging, my mother still sobbing, Jamie now wrestling futilely-were quickly subdued and led away. My mother's final words, before being dragged out, tore through me. "You'll regret this, Ellie! You're breaking your mother's heart!"

Alston turned to me, his gaze still intense. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

I nodded, my hand instinctively going to my throbbing jaw. But my eyes were on his bleeding arm. "You're hurt."

He glanced at the wound, as if noticing it for the first time. "It's nothing. Just a scratch."

But it wasn't. Blood seeped through the fabric of his expensive suit jacket, a stark red against the dark material. He always wore white. Today, he wore a dark suit. A chilling detail.

My mind, in that moment of raw adrenaline, flashed back. Not to the corporate kidnapping, but further. To high school. A gang of bullies cornering me, spitting insults about my threadbare clothes and cheap lunch. And then, Alston, a lanky, awkward prodigy even then, stepping in. Not with fists, but with a sharp, cutting logic that dismantled their cruelty. He didn't touch me, but he stood guard, his presence a silent shield. He protected my dignity when I had none.

That had been the seed, hadn't it? The beginning of a decade-long devotion. The hope that this brilliant, unfeeling man, who had once protected my fragile self-worth, might one day see me as worth protecting, worth loving. I had mistaken his accidental kindness, his quiet presence, for a promise of a future that was never meant to be. I had mistaken being needed for being loved.

He was bleeding for me now. Physically. A tangible sacrifice. My heart, so recently hardened, felt a treacherous flutter. Was this it? Was this the moment he finally realized-

No. My rational mind, the scientist in me, slammed shut that door. It was habit. It was his innate sense of order, of defending the innocent. It was not love. It was never love.

Chapter 5

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