Chapter 1

The spotlight felt hot, even from the back of the auditorium. It wasn't on me. It was on him. Dr. Julian Thorne. My mentor. He stood on the stage, a confident smile on his face, accepting the applause. Behind him, a massive screen displayed the title of his presentation: "Mapping Dark Matter Filaments: A New Paradigm."

My paradigm. My research. My words.

The applause was a wave of noise that pushed me down into my seat. Every clap felt like a slap to my face. I clutched the crumpled program in my hand, my knuckles white. Just an hour ago, he had looked me in the eyes, his own eyes cold and empty, and told me, "Anya, this is for the best. You're not ready for this kind of pressure. I'm protecting you."

Protecting me? He was gutting me. He was taking my soul and selling it for a round of applause and a fat new research grant from his corporate sponsors, the men in sharp suits sitting in the front row.

"This breakthrough," Julian' s smooth voice echoed through the speakers, "is the culmination of years of tireless work. It will change the face of astrophysics as we know it."

My stomach churned. The pain was sharp, a physical response to the theft. I had to get out. I pushed myself up, my legs shaking. The faces in the crowd were a blur. They were all looking at him, at the man who had built his career on my mind.

I stumbled out of the auditorium and into the grand, empty lobby. The cool marble floor did nothing to calm the fire in my gut. I leaned against a pillar, trying to catch my breath. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A stream of notifications. News articles already published, praising his genius. Colleagues sending their congratulations, not to me, but to him.

I thought back to the late nights in the lab, the thrill of the numbers finally making sense. I remembered Julian bringing me coffee, his hand on my shoulder, telling me, "You're a once-in-a-generation talent, Anya." I had believed him. I had trusted him. The memory was acid in my throat. That trust was a lie, a tool he used to get what he wanted.

The doors to the auditorium opened, and a wave of people spilled out, their voices excited. I saw him, surrounded by his backers, all of them laughing. He looked over their heads and his eyes found mine. For a second, just a second, I saw something flicker in his expression. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that same cold, dismissive look. He turned his back on me.

That was when the real pain hit. It wasn't just in my gut anymore. It was a sharp, brutal cramp that stole my breath and buckled my knees. I cried out, a small sound lost in the chatter of the crowd.

I looked down. A dark stain was spreading across the light fabric of my dress. Red. The world started to spin. The polished marble floor seemed to rush up to meet me. My research, my career, it all felt so distant now. The only thing that mattered was the searing pain tearing through me and the sudden, terrifying understanding of what I was losing.

I was pregnant. And the last thing I saw before I blacked out was Julian's pristine, polished shoes walking away, never once looking back.