Chapter 1

After three straight all-nighters, I finally cracked the core data.

At the project launch party, I watched the credits roll across the main screen. There, listed as deputy project lead, was the name of our intern: Lola Clark.

I confronted my husband, Freddie Green, the project director himself.

Mingling in the crowd, he swirled the wine in his glass and let out a low, elegant whisper meant only for me.

"Lola just graduated. She needs this on her record to secure a full-time position," he said. "You're a veteran, and you're my wife. What's the harm in letting a junior have the spotlight?"

He took a sip. "Besides, I know what you contributed. Everyone knows how supportive you are at home. Why make a scene over an empty title? It just looks petty."

The room was buzzing with people sucking up to him and Lola, praising the "deep bond" between the mentor and his star pupil.

A laugh escaped my lips. In one fluid motion, I unclipped my ID badge and tossed it into the cascading champagne tower.

"There's a critical flaw in the data," I announced. "And since Lola was responsible, I'm sure she'll have no problem taking full responsibility for the consequences."

*****

The crash of shattering glass silenced the entire banquet hall.

My metallic name badge tumbled through the pyramid of flutes, sending the top tier crashing down. Golden liquid streamed like a waterfall down the white tablecloth, dripping onto Lola's brand-new designer heels.

The whole banquet hall went dead silent.

I watched my badge, the one engraved with "Spouse: Olivia Bennett," sink to the bottom of the boozy mess. A string inside me, pulled taut for seven years, finally snapped.

The charming mask Freddie always wore finally cracked. He grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging into my skin as he hissed, "Olivia, have you lost your mind? This is a company party. The board members are here. Have some decency."

Lola let out a little gasp, shrinking behind Freddie as if she were terrified. Her eyes welled with tears. "Olivia, did I do something wrong? If it's about the credit, I don't need it, really. Please don't be angry with Freddie."

Look at her. She was so sweet and so understanding.

If I hadn't spent three straight nights staring at a screen full of code until my vision blurred, I might have actually believed she was innocent.

In my struggle to find the lone point of balance within a model on the brink of collapse, I completely neglected my post-operative follow-up.

The whispers started among my colleagues.

"What's gotten into Olivia? She's usually so quiet."

"It's jealousy. Lola is young, pretty, and just got a huge win."

"Honestly, Freddie is too good to Olivia. He lets her get away with murder."

The words were like needles in my ears. I looked at Freddie, the man I had loved for ten years. He was shielding Lola with one arm while giving me a look I knew too well, a carefully measured blend of disappointment and reprimand.

"Apologize, Olivia," he said firmly. "Apologize to Lola and to the executives present. We'll talk about this at home."

I laughed.

I could feel tears stinging my eyes, but I forced them back.

My voice was raw but loud enough for everyone to hear. "Apologize? Freddie, have you forgotten who wrote the core algorithm for this entire project?"

His eyes flickered for a second, but then his self-righteousness returned.

"So what if you wrote it? We're married. What's mine is yours. Lola handled all the final data collation and polished the presentation. Do you think this report would look half as good without her hard work? What's wrong with helping out a junior colleague?"

"Collation and polishing?" I repeated.

I pointed at the glowing words "Secondary Lead: Lola Clark" on the screen, and the laughter that bubbled up was dangerously close to a sob.

I questioned, "So the person who formats the documents gets second billing, while the person who poured her soul into the model and lost our child because of it doesn't even deserve a name?

"I just get a 'spouse' tag and a seat at the table?"

At the mention of the baby, Freddie's expression finally faltered. He instinctively loosened his grip, a flicker of panic flashing in his eyes.

But Lola quickly jumped in, stepping forward to tug at my sleeve with a look of practiced concern.

She said, "Olivia, I know you've been having a hard time since you lost the baby. The doctor said you might have some postpartum...

"I mean, post-surgical depression. I don't blame you for being upset. I don't care about the credit, really. Please don't take it out on Freddie."

She let the word "depression" slip out so casually, so cleverly painting me as an unstable woman, grieving and irrational.

I yanked my arm away from her. "Don't touch me."

I took a step back, my gaze sweeping over the room before landing on the institute's director, Cory Stewart, whose face was a mask of cold fury.

"Mr. Green just said the project was a complete success, ready for live simulation next week, right?" I asked.

A sense of dread washed over Freddie's face. "What are you getting at?"

A cruel smile touched my lips. I gestured toward the complex simulation curve on the screen. "I'm saying this project has a catastrophic data flaw.

"And since Lola is the secondary lead and, therefore, the primary technical executor, she can be the one to take full responsibility when the simulation rig melts down from parameter overflow."

Without another glance at anyone, I turned and walked toward the exit.

Behind me, I heard Freddie's furious shout. "Olivia Bennett, you get back here. What the hell are you talking about?"

I didn't need to stop. I knew that the fatal flaw hidden in the base logic, the one Freddie had pushed me to ignore so we could meet the deadline, was a ticking time bomb.

And the trigger was in Lola's so-called "polished" version.