A Scientist's Revenge: New Life

I removed an intern from an award nomination for stealing my dead sister's research. My husband, Craig, was furious. He chose to defend her, not me.

His rage turned violent. He destroyed my life's work-a cure for Alzheimer's-then shoved me so hard I miscarried our child.

He called me "dramatic" as I bled on the floor.

Then he locked me in our home, a prisoner, forcing me to sign over my patents to his mistress, the woman who drove my sister to suicide. He thought he had broken me, that I was his to control.

But when he tried to humiliate me in the most depraved way imaginable, I saw my chance. I threw myself from a second-story window.

As I lay broken on the ground, watching him rush to his mistress's side, I made a vow. My revenge was just beginning.

Chapter 1

Ayla Warner POV:

My hand trembled as I struck Ashley Riddle's name from the award nomination list. It was a simple act, a decision rooted in justice, but it shattered my world.

"Dr. Warner, are you sure?" My assistant, Maria, asked. Her voice was cautious, hesitant.

"Yes, Maria. Absolutely." My own voice was firm, though a cold dread was already coiling in my stomach. The decision was made. Ashley Riddle would not be receiving the prestigious 'Young Innovator in Neuroscience' award. Not on my watch.

Ashley, a young intern, had tried to claim research that wasn't hers. Research that belonged to my sister. Jaylee's work. Jaylee, who was gone.

The echoes of her laughter, her brilliance, haunted my lab. This award, this recognition, it wasn't just about professional ethics. It was about honoring the dead. It was about Jaylee.

My husband, Craig Davis, heard the news. He burst into my office, his face a mask of carefully constructed fury. "Ayla, what the hell have you done?" he demanded, his voice a low growl that always promised trouble.

I stood my ground, my lab coat feeling like a shield. "I did what was right, Craig. Ashley stole Jaylee's data. She manipulated her way into this nomination."

His eyes, usually so warm and adoring, turned cold, sharp. "Right? Right for whom? You think this is right, destroying a young woman's career?"

He stepped closer, invading my space. His hand shot out, not to strike, but to grab my arm. His grip was a vise, digging into my flesh. Pain flared, a sharp, white-hot line up my arm.

"Let go of me, Craig!" I cried, trying to pull away. He held tighter. The anger in his eyes was raw, terrifying.

"You think you can just do whatever you want, Ayla?" he whispered, his face inches from mine. His breath was hot on my cheek. "You think you're above consequence?"

My arm throbbed. The intensity of his grip was shocking. My husband, the man who had promised to cherish me, was hurting me. Physically.

Then, just as quickly, the pressure eased. His hand slid from my arm to my shoulder, a semblance of tenderness. He squeezed gently, his thumb stroking my skin. "Are you alright, sweetheart? You look pale."

His voice was soft, laced with concern, a stark contrast to the rage that had just twisted his features. It was a practiced performance, a cruel gaslight.

I stared at him, my heart pounding. "You just hurt me," I managed to say, the words catching in my throat.

He frowned, a picture of innocent confusion. "Hurt you? Ayla, don't be dramatic. I was simply trying to calm you down. You were getting hysterical."

My mind reeled. Hysterical? I was just stating a fact, protecting my sister's legacy. But his words planted a tiny seed of doubt. Was I overreacting?

"You need to fix this, Ayla," he continued, his voice firm but seemingly reasonable. "Give Ashley that award. Apologize to her. She's been through a lot."

"Apologize?" My voice rose. "Craig, she drove my sister to suicide! She used her cyberbullying campaign to torment Jaylee, then stole her research! How can you ask me to reward that?"

His face hardened again. "You have no proof, Ayla. Just your grief and your accusations. Ashley is a victim here. A young woman making her way in a tough world."

"Proof? I saw the messages! Jaylee showed me! The fabricated rumors, the constant badgering online, the threats! And the data... Craig, it was genetic sequencing for early-onset Alzheimer's. Jaylee was so close to a breakthrough." My voice broke on her name.

He sighed, a long, exasperated sound. "Jaylee had problems, Ayla. You know that. She was unstable. Ashley was just a convenient scapegoat."

"Unstable? She was brilliant! And Ashley exploited her vulnerabilities, Craig! You know what Ashley did." My mind flashed to snippets of conversations, hushed phone calls Craig had taken, strange glances he'd given me when Jaylee's name came up. A cold wave washed over me. No. It couldn't be.

"What are you implying?" Craig's voice dropped, ice-cold. "Are you accusing me now?"

My stomach clenched. "She stole Jaylee's data, Craig. The data that could help millions. The data that could have helped your own mother."

A dark cloud descended over his face. His eyes narrowed to slits. "Mention my mother again, Ayla, and you'll regret it."

He took a step back, his gaze sweeping around my lab. It lingered on the computer screens displaying months, years, of my painstaking research. The cure for early-onset Alzheimer's, my life's work.

"You push me on this, Ayla," he said, his voice dangerously soft, "and I promise you, you'll lose everything. Your research. Your data. Everything you've worked for, gone."

My blood ran cold. "You wouldn't dare," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He pulled out his phone, his thumb moving swiftly. A projection immediately appeared on the large lab screen. It was a live feed of my server room, the blinking lights of my research data. A red progress bar, labeled "Deletion in Progress," was already creeping across the screen.

Panic clawed at my throat. "No! Craig, stop it! Please! That's years of work! That's the cure, Craig! It's the only hope for so many!"

He ignored my pleas, his eyes fixed on the screen, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "This is what happens, Ayla, when you defy me. When you choose some dead girl's delusions over my family. Over my Ashley."

My breath hitched. "Your Ashley? What do you mean, 'your Ashley'?" The words tasted like ash. A sickening realization was dawning on me.

"She's special, Ayla," he said, his gaze drifting to the deleting data, then back to me, full of contempt. "She understands loyalty. Unlike some people."

"Loyalty? I've given you everything, Craig! My youth, my love, my entire life's devotion! I put your venture capital into this lab, I worked tirelessly for us!" My voice cracked with the raw pain of betrayal.

He scoffed. "You think you're the only one who can be loyal? You think you're irreplaceable?" His eyes flicked back to the progress bar. "The clock is ticking, Ayla. Do we stop this, or do you lose your precious work?"

My mind raced, torn. The images of Jaylee, of his own mother, flashed through my head. The thought of that cure, gone forever, was a physical blow. I couldn't let it happen. I couldn't.

"Stop it," I choked out, the words tasting like poison. "Stop the deletion."

He smiled, a triumphant, chilling smile. He tapped his phone, and the red bar vanished. The screen reverted to a normal server display. "Good girl," he purred, like I was a pet.

I felt a sudden wave of dizziness, my stomach churning. A sharp cramp shot through my lower abdomen. I swayed, clutching my belly. "I... I don't feel well."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Nerves, Ayla. You'll be fine. Now, about that award for Ashley..."

He didn't wait for my response. He was already striding out of the lab, his phone pressed to his ear, undoubtedly making arrangements for Ashley's triumphant return.

The next day, Ashley Riddle stood on stage, bathed in the glow of spotlights, accepting the 'Young Innovator' award. Craig stood proudly beside her, his arm around her waist, beaming at the cameras. I watched from the back of the auditorium, my heart a hollow ache.

He then announced that Ashley would be joining my lab as a lead researcher, thanks to a "generous new investment." Cheers erupted. The crowd was oblivious to the quiet murder that had taken place right under their noses.

Later, at the celebratory reception, Craig and Ashley were inseparable. He whispered in her ear, laughed at her jokes, his hands possessively on her back. They looked like a couple. A sick, twisted realization settled in my gut. This wasn't just about Jaylee's data. This was about them.

Ashley caught my eye from across the room. She was holding a half-eaten canape, about to take another bite. Her gaze held a triumphant, malicious glint. Then, almost imperceptibly, she "accidentally" dropped the canape. It landed precisely on a data drive I had left on a nearby table, one that contained all my preliminary findings, a backup of sorts-or so I thought.

A cold dread washed over me. I tried to push through the crowd, but it was too dense. My phone buzzed. It was Maria. Her voice was frantic. "Dr. Warner! The backup drive... it's wiped! Completely! Everything's gone!"

The room spun. My vision blurred. A searing pain ripped through my abdomen, far worse than anything before. I stumbled, clutching at a passing waiter.

"Ashley Riddle!" I screamed, my voice raw, breaking. "You conniving bitch! You destroyed it all!"

Craig, hearing the commotion, rushed over, pulling Ashley protectively into his arms. "What is this, Ayla? What is your problem now?" His eyes were blazing with fury, his arm a shield around Ashley.

"She destroyed my research, Craig! She just wiped the last of my data!" I pointed a shaking finger at Ashley.

Ashley, nestled in Craig's embrace, looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent, tears welling. "I... I don't know what she's talking about, Craig. I just dropped a canape. She's always been so mean to me."

Craig's gaze hardened, turning back to me. "Ayla, enough! This is ridiculous. You're making a scene." He turned to a security guard. "Escort my wife out, please. She's clearly unwell."

"Unwell?" My anger surged, overriding the pain. "You want unwell, Craig? You want to see what happens when you protect a murderer? A cheat?"

I lunged forward, fueled by a primal rage, my hand connecting with his cheek with a resounding slap. The sound echoed through the stunned silence of the room.

His head snapped back. For a moment, he simply stared at me, his eyes wide with shock. Then a slow, terrifying smile spread across his face.

"So that's how it is," he said, his voice low, menacing. "You want to play dirty, Ayla? Fine. But you won't like the consequences." He turned back to Ashley, whose hand was now clutching her chest. "Ashley, are you alright, darling? My poor girl, look at what she's done to you."

Ashley whimpered, her body trembling dramatically. "My heart... it's racing. I feel faint."

Craig scooped her up effortlessly, cradling her in his arms. He glared at me over her shoulder. "This is your fault, Ayla. All of it."

He carried her out, leaving me standing alone, amidst the murmuring crowd. The pain in my abdomen intensified, a relentless, gnawing agony. My vision swam.

"Craig!" I called out, my voice weak, desperate. "Craig, I'm really hurting! Please!"

He paused at the double doors, turning his head slightly. "Oh, do stop the theatrics, Ayla," he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "You're not fooling anyone. You just can't stand that someone else is getting attention."

Then he was gone, the doors swinging shut behind him.

I collapsed onto a nearby chair, my body wracked with pain, a warm gush spreading between my legs. The cold, hard ground of reality hit me. This wasn't just about Jaylee anymore. It was about me. My life. My future. And I knew, with a chilling certainty, that I had to fight back.

Ayla Warner POV:

The world spun, my body a puppet on strings that had suddenly been cut. Pain, a blinding, all-consuming agony, tore through me. I heard muffled screams, my own, perhaps, or someone else' s.

Then, darkness.

When I woke, the world was white. The fluorescent lights of a hospital room hummed above me. The air smelled of antiseptic and regret.

A kind-faced nurse bustled in. "Dr. Warner, you're awake! How are you feeling?"

I tried to speak, but my throat was dry, raw. A dull ache radiated from my lower abdomen. "What... what happened?"

The nurse' s smile faltered. "You had a severe episode, Dr. Warner. You lost consciousness at the gala. We've been monitoring you closely." She checked my IV drip. "There's something else we need to discuss."

"What is it?" A new fear, cold and sharp, pierced through the haze of pain.

The nurse paused, her gaze softening. "Dr. Warner, you were pregnant. About eight weeks along."

My mind went blank. Pregnant? I squeezed my eyes shut, a wave of nausea sweeping over me. Pregnant. A baby. Craig' s baby.

"I' m so sorry, Dr. Warner," she continued, her voice gentle. "We did everything we could, but... you' ve had a miscarriage."

The words hung in the air, heavy, suffocating. Miscarriage. The child I didn't even know I had was gone. The world tilted. A cry tore through me, a primal wail of grief and despair.

"Are you alright, Dr. Warner?" The nurse looked at me with concern. "Would you like me to call your husband? He hasn't been by yet."

My tears flowed freely, hot and bitter. My husband. The man who pushed me, who dismissed my pain as theatrics, who left me bleeding on the floor to care for his mistress. He was the reason.

"No," I choked out, shaking my head violently. "Don't call him."

She nodded, sensing my distress. "Alright. Just try to rest. You' ve been through a lot. Emotionally and physically."

I closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. My mind replayed the last few days, fragments of our life together. Craig. The man who had once been my everything.

We' d met in college. He was ambitious, charming, destined for greatness. I was just a bright-eyed science student, dreaming of changing the world. He' d swept me off my feet.

"Ayla, my love for you is eternal, boundless. I' ll always trust you, always protect you." He' d whispered those words to me on our wedding day, his eyes shining with what I thought was genuine affection.

I remembered the time my lab caught fire, a faulty wire sparking. He' d rushed in, pulling me from the flames himself, a hero in every sense of the word. He' d risked his own life for mine.

Then there was the scholarship. I' d almost lost it, my family struggling financially. He' d quietly paid off my debts, secured my future, all without me knowing until much later. "You deserve to pursue your dreams, Ayla," he' d said, holding my hand. "Always."

Our wedding day. His vows, echoing in the grand hall. "I promise to love you, to cherish you, to build a family with you, Ayla. Forever."

Had it all been a lie? Every word, every gesture, every shared moment? My heart, already shattered, splintered further. The man I loved, the father of the child I just lost, had become a monster.

A soft knock interrupted my painful memories. The door creaked open. It was Craig.

He looked... haggard. His usually perfect hair was disheveled, his suit wrinkled. He walked towards the bed, his expression unreadable.

"Ayla," he said, his voice low, laced with a strange mix of concern and something else I couldn't quite place. "I heard. Are you alright?"

I stared at him, my eyes burning. How could he ask that?

"Craig," the nurse said, stepping forward, her tone sharper than before. "Dr. Warner just suffered a very traumatic loss. A miscarriage. She needs rest, and frankly, she needs support. She shouldn't be alone."

Craig looked startled, then his gaze shifted to me, a flicker of something resembling guilt in his eyes. "A miscarriage?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.

Just then, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and his face instantly hardened. "Damn it," he muttered. "Ashley's having another panic attack. I have to go."

He turned to leave. My blood ran cold. "Craig!" I cried out, a raw, desperate plea tearing from my throat. "Craig, please! My stomach... the bleeding..."

He paused, glancing back at me, his expression impatient. "Ayla, I told you, stop with the dramatics. Ashley needs me. You'll be fine. Just sleep it off."

And then, he was gone.

He left. Again. For her. While I lay here, bleeding, losing our child.

My vision tunneled. The world went black.

When I next opened my eyes, the room was dimly lit. My head throbbed. The pain in my abdomen was a dull ache now, a constant reminder of what was lost.

The doctor, a kind older woman, sat beside my bed. She folded her hands, her expression grave. "Dr. Warner, I have your test results."

My heart pounded. "What is it?"

"You were pregnant, Ayla. But... we also found something else during the examination." She paused, her gaze meeting mine. "You have significant internal bruising. Especially around your abdomen. It appears to be consistent with blunt force trauma."

Blunt force trauma. Craig pushing me. The shove. It wasn' t just an argument. It was violence. It was physical abuse. And it led to this.

"We also detected traces of a sedative in your system," the doctor continued, her voice clinical, objective. "A strong one. Enough to render you unconscious, but perhaps not noticed if you were already distressed."

A sedative? My mind reeled. Had Ashley done something? Or Craig?

The doctor sighed. "Listen, Ayla. I'm a doctor, not a detective. But I've seen enough. You need to take care of yourself. And you need to seriously consider the environment you're in. This isn't healthy."

Her words were a cold splash of water, cutting through my grief and shock. He had manipulated me. Gaslighted me. Physically harmed me. And now, I had lost our baby.

A quiet rage began to simmer beneath my pain. This wasn't just sadness anymore. It was fury. It was a determination to survive. And to make him pay.

I looked at the doctor, my voice firm despite its tremor. "Doctor," I said, "I need to make some calls. And I need to get out of here."

I would not break. I would not let him win.

A slight, almost imperceptible nod passed between us. The doctor's gaze was knowing. "Take care, Ayla," she said, before leaving me alone in the sterile white room.

Later that evening, after the nurses had changed my IV and checked my vitals, a different Craig appeared. He was impeccably dressed, a bouquet of my favorite white lilies in his hand. He looked like the caring, devoted husband he once was.

"Ayla, my love," he said, his voice soft, contrite. "I am so, so sorry. I should have been here. I truly regret leaving you." He sat beside me, reaching for my hand.

I pulled my hand away, my gaze unwavering. "Don't touch me."

His expression faltered. "Ayla, please. I know I messed up. But Ashley... she was in a bad way. You know how sensitive she is."

"Sensitive?" My laugh was harsh, brittle. "She's a manipulative sociopath, Craig! And you are her protector. You defend her, you enable her, you believe her over me!"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Ayla, you're not thinking clearly. This whole situation, with the award, your sister... it's really gotten to you. You're imagining things."

"Imagining things?" I repeated, my voice rising. "I lost our baby, Craig! Our baby! Because you shoved me! Because you cared more about her manufactured panic attack than my actual pain! And you gaslighted me, saying I was being dramatic!"

His eyes widened, feigning shock. "Shoved you? Ayla, I barely touched you! You were hysterical! And you lost the baby because you're stressed, not because of anything I did. Don't you dare blame me for this!" His voice was filled with a chilling self-righteousness. "And besides, we can have another baby. When you're ready to be a good mother."

My heart turned to ice. He was beyond redemption. There was no going back.

I wanted to scream, to rail against his cruelty. But a strange calm settled over me. He wasn't worth my tears. He wasn't worth my anger. He was just... gone. The Craig I loved, the Craig I married, was a ghost.

My mind drifted back to our beginning. The passionate young man who believed in my dreams. The way he used to look at me, like I held the stars in my eyes. The way he held my hand, a silent promise of forever. He was a memory, a lie.

He's changed, Ayla. The thought echoed in my mind, stark and undeniable. He's not the man you married.

I had to get out. I had to end this.

I found my voice, calm, steady. "Craig," I said, "I want a divorce."

He froze, his carefully constructed composure cracking. "Ayla, don't be ridiculous. You're just upset."

"No," I said, meeting his gaze head-on. "I'm not upset. I'm done."

He made a move to touch me again, his hand reaching for mine. I recoiled as if burned. "Don't," I warned, my voice cold.

He looked bewildered, then angry. "What is this, Ayla? Some kind of game?"

I ignored him, reaching for the bedside table. My phone. He' d left it. I scrolled through my contacts. I knew who to call. Kenneth Shannon. A man who had always been kind, always respected me, always saw my worth.

Just as I found his number, a soft knock came from the door.

Ayla Warner POV:

My heart leaped, a flicker of hope amidst the desolation. Was it Kenneth, somehow knowing I needed him? Or Maria, my ever-loyal assistant?

I turned my head towards the door, a sudden surge of adrenaline coursing through me.

The door opened slowly, revealing a figure leaning heavily against the frame. Ashley Riddle. Her face was pale, almost translucent, her eyes shadowed. She looked fragile, genuinely weak.

"Craig, darling... I couldn't sleep without you." Her voice was a soft, trembling whisper, like a wilting flower seeking sunlight. "May I come in?"

Craig's face, which had been frozen in a mask of anger and confusion from my divorce declaration, instantly softened. His eyes, moments ago cold and distant, now filled with an almost frantic concern.

He sprang from my bedside, rushing to Ashley's side. "Ashley, my love! What are you doing out of bed? You shouldn't be walking around. You're still unwell."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, a tender embrace that twisted a knife in my gut. He cradled her cheek, his thumb gently stroking her temple. "You scared me, wandering around like this."

The bitterness rose in my throat. His love for her was so palpable, so consuming. The same passionate intensity he once reserved for me. It was transferable. Replicable. My heart, already a fractured mess, felt a cold, final click.

"Get out," I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. "Both of you. Get out of my room."

Craig looked up, his eyes narrowing. "Ayla, what has gotten into you?"

Before he could continue, a harried figure burst through the doorway, almost colliding with Ashley. It was my lawyer, Mr. Henderson, his face flushed, his usually neat hair disheveled.

"Dr. Warner! I got here as fast as I could!" he puffed, clutching a briefcase.

Craig and Ashley, startled by the sudden intrusion, stumbled back. Ashley whimpered, pressing herself further into Craig's side.

I pushed myself up, pulling out the IV drip in a swift, decisive move. A tiny bead of blood welled on my skin, but I ignored it. I swung my legs off the bed, planting my bare feet firmly on the cold tile floor. Each step was a testament to my resolve.

"Mr. Henderson," I said, my voice clearer now, stronger. "The papers, please."

He quickly handed me a thick folder. It contained the divorce petition and something else-a document outlining a substantial investment agreement.

"Craig," I said, my gaze unwavering as I met his eyes. "You owe me this. The initial venture capital you invested in my lab. You promised me an additional ten million in funding for the Phase III trials, remember? Consider this your final payment."

Ashley gasped, her pale face turning even whiter. "Ten million? For her lab? Craig, you can't!" Her voice was shrill, laced with a desperate greed.

I smirked, a hollow, bitter feeling. "Oh, the little intern thinks she knows the value of groundbreaking neurological research, does she? Or is it just the zeroes that excite you, Ashley?" My gaze flicked to Craig. "Don't tell me you haven't explained to her the complexities of advanced target therapy. Or perhaps she's too busy learning how to manipulate men to grasp actual science."

Craig's brow furrowed slightly as he looked down at Ashley. Her eyes, usually so calculating, were now wide with an almost childlike avarice, completely missing the insult.

Ashley, seemingly oblivious, clung to Craig. "Craig, she's trying to take advantage of you! She's greedy! She's always been jealous of me!" Tears welled in her eyes. "She wants to ruin me! And now she wants to ruin you too!"

Then, with a dramatic gasp, she clutched her chest. "My heart! It's starting again! I can't breathe! Oh, Craig, I think I'm going to collapse!" She swayed precariously, her eyes rolling back. "It's too much. The stress. I can't take it! I think I'm going to jump out the window!"

Craig's face instantly darkened. His earlier flicker of annoyance vanished, replaced by furious concern. He steadied Ashley, murmuring reassurances. Then, his eyes, blazing with anger, turned to me.

"Ayla, what the hell are you doing to her?" he snarled. "Are you trying to kill her? Apologize. Now."

A cold, dead sensation spread through my chest. Apologize? To this conniving snake? For the first time, I felt nothing. No pain, no anger, just a chilling void.

"Apology accepted," I said, my voice devoid of warmth. I pushed the folder into Craig' s hands. "Sign this. Now. And then get out of my life." My only desire was to sever every tie, to be free of this toxic charade.

Craig stared at the papers, his jaw tight. "You think you can threaten me, Ayla?"

"Threaten?" I snatched the folder back. "Fine. If you won't sign, I'll just go to the press. With all the evidence of Ashley's plagiarism. And the cyberbullying campaign that led to my sister's suicide. I'm sure the media would love to hear about the tech mogul who covers up for a murderer." My finger hovered over a contact on my phone-a journalist I trusted.

Craig' s eyes widened, a flicker of genuine fear in their depths. He snatched the papers back, his gaze darting between the divorce petition and the investment agreement. For a moment, his perfect facade cracked.

I watched him, my heart hammering. This was it. The moment of truth.

Suddenly, Ashley shrieked, clutching her chest again. "My heart! It's really bad this time! Craig, I think I'm dying!" She began to hyperventilate, her body convulsing. "I can't breathe! Help me!"

Craig's focus snapped back to her. His face contorted with panic. "Ashley! My God!" He fumbled for a pen, his eyes still fixed on her. He scribbled his signature across both documents with a shaky hand, barely glancing at what he was signing. He then scooped Ashley into his arms. "I'm taking her to the ICU!"

He glared at me one last time, his voice a low, furious growl. "Don't you dare touch her, Ayla. Don't you dare."

Then, he was gone, carrying Ashley out of the room, leaving behind the scent of his cologne and the stench of his betrayal.

I handed the signed documents to Mr. Henderson. "Thank you," I said, my voice trembling. It was done.

"Dr. Warner," Mr. Henderson said, his expression grave. "Are you sure about this? About the divorce? And... about ending your pregnancy?"

My blood ran cold. He knew about the baby. I hadn't told anyone.

"Yes," I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. "I am sure. I cannot bring a child into a world with a father like him. A child who would be raised by a man who protects a murderer, a child whose father would allow his mistress to destroy its mother's life work." The thought alone was unbearable. The tiny life inside me, gone. A fresh wave of grief washed over me, but it was mingled with resolve.

The next day, I discharged myself from the hospital. The first place I went was my lab. My data. My research. I had to see if anything could be salvaged.

The lab was a sterile wasteland. My team, demoralized and defeated, stood among the empty servers and shattered equipment. Ashley' s dirty canape sat on the floor, a mocking stain.

"Dr. Warner!" Maria rushed to me, her eyes red-rimmed. "It's all gone. They wiped everything. We tried to recover it, but it's completely unrecoverable."

My heart sank. Years. Gone. All of it.

Just then, the door burst open. Ashley Riddle skipped in, a bright, triumphant smile on her face. She was carrying a tray of donuts and coffee.

"Morning, everyone!" she chirped, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Craig said I should bring some treats for everyone working so hard! It's so quiet in here. Oh, is Dr. Warner back?"