Chapter 2 · Back To Take My Name

The applause came to an abrupt halt.

Tiffany's smile froze on her face.

The host, thinking it was a network glitch, tried to smooth things over. "Technology can be a little temperamental sometimes. Let's have the tech team take a look."

Some people in the audience were already pulling out their phones.

Jason strode up to me, speaking through clenched teeth. "Did you do this?"

I shot back, "I thought she said I only assisted."

His expression turned thunderous. "Nancy, this isn't the time to act out of spite. Restore the authorization, and I'll pretend none of this ever happened."

I glanced up at the stage. Tiffany was looking at me, too. For a second, panic flared in her eyes, then gave way to a wounded look.

She picked up the microphone, her voice trembling. "Nancy, if I did something wrong, you could've pulled me aside and told me privately. Why would you revoke the team's authorization like this?"

She was clever. With just a few words, she had twisted her theft into a sisterly squabble and turned the defense of my own rights into childish revenge.

Whispers broke out in the crowd.

"So her sister revoked the authorization?"

"Isn't she just screwing over her own team?"

"Infighting is the last thing a medical project needs."

My mother lunged at me, seizing my arm. "Get up there and apologize right now!"

I didn't move. Blood was seeping through the gauze again, trickling down my wrist.

Suddenly, I remembered the day of the lab accident in my previous life. The alarm went off, and I rushed in to save the main server. The glass shield shattered, shards slicing my wrist open.

Tiffany stood outside, crying. "Nancy, why did you wreck the equipment? Even if you didn't win the award, how could you put patients at risk?"

Later, that scar was used as evidence that I had wrecked the equipment.

But now, it was the original data chip that was hidden beneath my wound.

I pushed my mother's hand away and headed toward the stage.

Jason stepped in front of me, blocking my path. "Nancy, don't push me."

I paused. "What are you going to do, break off the engagement?"

His Adam's apple bobbed.

I walked past him. "I've already ended the engagement."

When the spotlight hit my face, the audience fell so silent that the whir of camera lenses adjusting was clearly audible.

Tiffany stood in front of the big screen, her eyes red, the picture of wounded innocence.

I grabbed a spare microphone.

The host shot an awkward glance toward the organizers.

"I'm Nancy Shaw. Employee ID S-0713." I announce, "I'm the lead researcher for the MICS and the first inventor on the patent."

The audience erupted.

Tiffany quickly responded, "Nancy, please, don't do this. You're part of the team. We've always acknowledged your contributions."

"But you just said I was only an assistant," I countered.

She bit her lip. "That's because you told me that you didn't want to be in the spotlight, that you'd rather let me have the stage."

The red warning still hung above her head. [Authorization Revoked.] It was like a slap in the face.

"When did I ever say that?" I asked.

Her tears came harder. "Nancy, you're upset right now. I don't want to argue with you."

Jason made his way onto the stage. He grabbed another microphone, his tone measured. "Everyone, I apologize for taking up your time.

"Nancy is my fiancée. She's been dealing with intense project stress lately, which has led to some severe anxiety and insomnia. The Carter Foundation and the project team will take full responsibility for tonight's incident."

When he was finished, the media perked up.

Fiancée. Mental stress. Project infighting. Each label dragged me down from the rightful owner of the project to nothing more than an emotional woman.

My father shouted from the wings, "Nancy, get down here. Stop making a spectacle of yourself."

My mother started crying as well. "Tiffany has a heart condition. Are you trying to give her a heart attack?"

I'd heard these accusations far too many times. By the end of my previous life, I had almost believed it was my fault.

This time, I brought the microphone to my lips. "Jason, you just called me your fiancée."

He looked at me, warning flashing in his eyes.

I held up the ring inside the transparent evidence bag. "Three minutes ago, I ended this engagement. This ring is now evidence. It will prove the financial ties between the Carter Foundation and Tiffany."

The hall dissolved into chaos.

Jason's face twisted. "Nancy!"

I didn't look at him. Instead, I slowly unwound the bandage. The wound was still raw, the redness glaring. Lodged beneath the bandage was a chip the size of a fingernail.

Tiffany's eyes flew wide open. She recognized the chip instantly. It held the original data backup, the one she had spent months trying to find.

I slid the chip into the system port.

Ethan's voice rang out from the audience. "Ms. Nancy Shaw, the notarization process is now in progress. The live feed is being uploaded to the IP verification cloud in real time."

Two men in dark suits stepped to the front row. One of them held up his credentials.

Tiffany's face went pale.

Jason hurried toward the main console. "Kill the screen. Now."

I let out a soft sneer.

The tech lead glanced from the notary to the organizers.

David, the head of the organizing committee, looked grim. "Mr. Carter, this is a live broadcast."

I hit Enter. The big screen flickered. What appeared was not the model dashboard, but the entire version tree.

It began at 2:17 AM on November 3rd, two years ago, with the very first version of the MICS algorithm, submitted by Nancy Shaw.

Then came version two, version three, all the way to version ninety-one.

Every model update, every parameter tweak, every failed training run was logged under my account, bearing my digital signature and my local device ID.

Below that were Tiffany's access logs.

[1:42 AM: Copy attempt failed.]

[1:49 AM: Permission request denied.]

[2:03 AM: Accessed server using temporary investor credentials granted by Jason.]

A gasp came from the audience.

Tiffany's crying stopped dead.

I looked at her. "You said I was only assisting." I clicked to the next page. Surveillance stills appeared on the big screen. In the footage, Tiffany was wearing a spare lab coat, swiping Jason's visitor access card.

"So tell me, when you used my fiancé's access to sneak into the core server in the middle of the night, were you helping me, or were you stealing from me?"

Tiffany quickly regained her composure. This time, she didn't burst into tears the way she had before.

She gripped the edge of the table, her face deathly pale, but her voice held steady. "I admit it. I did access the server. But I was only trying to protect the project."

Chapter 2

The applause came to an abrupt halt.

Tiffany's smile froze on her face.

The host, thinking it was a network glitch, tried to smooth things over. "Technology can be a little temperamental sometimes. Let's have the tech team take a look."

Some people in the audience were already pulling out their phones.

Jason strode up to me, speaking through clenched teeth. "Did you do this?"

I shot back, "I thought she said I only assisted."

His expression turned thunderous. "Nancy, this isn't the time to act out of spite. Restore the authorization, and I'll pretend none of this ever happened."

I glanced up at the stage. Tiffany was looking at me, too. For a second, panic flared in her eyes, then gave way to a wounded look.

She picked up the microphone, her voice trembling. "Nancy, if I did something wrong, you could've pulled me aside and told me privately. Why would you revoke the team's authorization like this?"

She was clever. With just a few words, she had twisted her theft into a sisterly squabble and turned the defense of my own rights into childish revenge.

Whispers broke out in the crowd.

"So her sister revoked the authorization?"

"Isn't she just screwing over her own team?"

"Infighting is the last thing a medical project needs."

My mother lunged at me, seizing my arm. "Get up there and apologize right now!"

I didn't move. Blood was seeping through the gauze again, trickling down my wrist.

Suddenly, I remembered the day of the lab accident in my previous life. The alarm went off, and I rushed in to save the main server. The glass shield shattered, shards slicing my wrist open.

Tiffany stood outside, crying. "Nancy, why did you wreck the equipment? Even if you didn't win the award, how could you put patients at risk?"

Later, that scar was used as evidence that I had wrecked the equipment.

But now, it was the original data chip that was hidden beneath my wound.

I pushed my mother's hand away and headed toward the stage.

Jason stepped in front of me, blocking my path. "Nancy, don't push me."

I paused. "What are you going to do, break off the engagement?"

His Adam's apple bobbed.

I walked past him. "I've already ended the engagement."

When the spotlight hit my face, the audience fell so silent that the whir of camera lenses adjusting was clearly audible.

Tiffany stood in front of the big screen, her eyes red, the picture of wounded innocence.

I grabbed a spare microphone.

The host shot an awkward glance toward the organizers.

"I'm Nancy Shaw. Employee ID S-0713." I announce, "I'm the lead researcher for the MICS and the first inventor on the patent."

The audience erupted.

Tiffany quickly responded, "Nancy, please, don't do this. You're part of the team. We've always acknowledged your contributions."

"But you just said I was only an assistant," I countered.

She bit her lip. "That's because you told me that you didn't want to be in the spotlight, that you'd rather let me have the stage."

The red warning still hung above her head. [Authorization Revoked.] It was like a slap in the face.

"When did I ever say that?" I asked.

Her tears came harder. "Nancy, you're upset right now. I don't want to argue with you."

Jason made his way onto the stage. He grabbed another microphone, his tone measured. "Everyone, I apologize for taking up your time.

When he was finished, the media perked up.

Fiancée. Mental stress. Project infighting. Each label dragged me down from the rightful owner of the project to nothing more than an emotional woman.

My father shouted from the wings, "Nancy, get down here. Stop making a spectacle of yourself."

My mother started crying as well. "Tiffany has a heart condition. Are you trying to give her a heart attack?"

I'd heard these accusations far too many times. By the end of my previous life, I had almost believed it was my fault.

This time, I brought the microphone to my lips. "Jason, you just called me your fiancée."

He looked at me, warning flashing in his eyes.

The hall dissolved into chaos.

Jason's face twisted. "Nancy!"

I didn't look at him. Instead, I slowly unwound the bandage. The wound was still raw, the redness glaring. Lodged beneath the bandage was a chip the size of a fingernail.

Tiffany's eyes flew wide open. She recognized the chip instantly. It held the original data backup, the one she had spent months trying to find.

I slid the chip into the system port.

Ethan's voice rang out from the audience. "Ms. Nancy Shaw, the notarization process is now in progress. The live feed is being uploaded to the IP verification cloud in real time."

Two men in dark suits stepped to the front row. One of them held up his credentials.

Tiffany's face went pale.

Jason hurried toward the main console. "Kill the screen. Now."

I let out a soft sneer.

The tech lead glanced from the notary to the organizers.

David, the head of the organizing committee, looked grim. "Mr. Carter, this is a live broadcast."

I hit Enter. The big screen flickered. What appeared was not the model dashboard, but the entire version tree.

It began at 2:17 AM on November 3rd, two years ago, with the very first version of the MICS algorithm, submitted by Nancy Shaw.

Then came version two, version three, all the way to version ninety-one.

Every model update, every parameter tweak, every failed training run was logged under my account, bearing my digital signature and my local device ID.

Below that were Tiffany's access logs.

[1:42 AM: Copy attempt failed.]

[1:49 AM: Permission request denied.]

[2:03 AM: Accessed server using temporary investor credentials granted by Jason.]

A gasp came from the audience.

Tiffany's crying stopped dead.

"So tell me, when you used my fiancé's access to sneak into the core server in the middle of the night, were you helping me, or were you stealing from me?"

Tiffany quickly regained her composure. This time, she didn't burst into tears the way she had before.

She gripped the edge of the table, her face deathly pale, but her voice held steady. "I admit it. I did access the server. But I was only trying to protect the project."