Chapter 2

The memory of that day in the lab was seared into my mind, a constant, looping horror film. I had gone there for a lifeline and he had handed me an anchor.

Before Leo' s final two weeks in the hospital, before the end, there was that last, desperate attempt. After I had declared our marriage over, I didn't just walk away. A part of me, the mother part that refused to die, made one final, humiliating plea.

I waited outside the lab, my body shaking. When Ethan finally emerged hours later, flushed with success from his simulation, I blocked his path.

"Ethan, please," I begged, my voice raw. "Forget the divorce. Forget everything I said. I was angry. Just... help him. I'm on my knees. I will do anything. Just use your machine. One scan. That's all I'm asking."

He looked down at me, his face a mixture of pity and disgust. It was the look you give a stray dog you wish would just go away.

Just then, Olivia came out, a file folder clutched to her chest. She saw me and her eyes narrowed for a split second before the mask of gentle concern slipped back into place.

"Sarah, you're still here," she said, her tone syrupy sweet. "You look exhausted. You're not thinking clearly."

She turned to Ethan, her voice full of feigned worry. "It's just like I said, Ethan. She's latching onto the project because she's stressed. She' s creating a crisis to get your attention." She looked at me, a cruel glint in her eyes. "You' re accusing a man of letting his son die just to disrupt his work? That's a horrible thing to say."

Her words were a masterclass in manipulation. She painted me as a manipulative, hysterical wife and him as the victim of my emotional instability. And he, the brilliant AI ethicist, bought it completely.

"Olivia is right," Ethan said, his voice cold and final. He was a judge passing sentence. "You're unstable, Sarah. You're weaponizing our son's illness to punish me for my work. It's selfish. It's cruel."

He looked past me, at the other researchers who were starting to leave the building. They were watching, their faces a mixture of curiosity and embarrassment. I was a spectacle. The crazy wife making a scene.

"Go home, Sarah," Ethan said, his voice low and menacing. "Take Leo to the pediatrician. Get yourself a therapist. But do not come here again. You are not welcome."

He was abandoning us. Completely and utterly. In public.

But the mother in me wasn't dead yet. It was wounded, bleeding, but still fighting.

"The diagnostic tool," I whispered, my throat tight. "Not the whole interface. Just the handheld scanner. You have prototypes. Just let me use one for an hour."

He hesitated. For a moment, a flicker of something-maybe guilt, maybe old affection-crossed his face.

Olivia saw it too. She stepped in immediately. "Of course, we can't do that, Sarah. The prototypes are proprietary. They're not approved for human use. The liability..."

Ethan seized on the excuse. "She's right. The legal risk is too great."

"I'll sign anything," I pleaded, tears now streaming down my face. "A waiver. A non-disclosure agreement. Anything. I will take all the responsibility."

He looked at Olivia, who gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of her head.

Ethan let out a long, weary sigh. "Fine," he said, as if granting a massive favor. "Wait here."

He went back inside. I stood there, humiliated, while Olivia watched me with a triumphant smirk she barely bothered to hide. The other researchers scurried away, not wanting to be involved.

Ethan came back a few minutes later holding a small, sleek device. It looked like a portable scanner. Hope, fragile and stupid, fluttered in my chest.

He held it out to me. "You have to sign a full release, holding the university and me completely harmless from any outcome."

"I will," I said, reaching for it.

As my fingers were about to close around it, Olivia, who had been "examining" a loose shoelace, straightened up abruptly. She bumped into Ethan's arm, "accidentally."

"Oh, clumsy me!" she exclaimed.

The diagnostic scanner flew from Ethan's grasp. It hit the concrete floor with a sickening crack. The screen went dark. A spiderweb of fractures spread across its surface.

It was broken. My last hope was shattered into a million pieces on the pavement at my feet.

Olivia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in mock horror. "Oh, Ethan, I am so sorry! I don't know what happened."

Ethan just stared at the broken device, then at me. There was no anger in his eyes. Only relief. He had an out. It wasn't his fault. It was an accident.

I looked from the broken scanner to their faces-his relieved, hers smug. And I knew. It wasn't an accident.

The fight finally drained out of me, replaced by a cold, terrifying emptiness. The love I had for him, the hope I had for our family, it all died right there on that concrete walkway.

In that hollow space where my heart used to be, something new and hard began to form. It was cold and sharp and patient.

It was the beginning of my revenge.

I didn't say another word. I just turned and walked away, leaving them standing there with the pieces of my broken hope.