Chapter 1

The lab alarm pierced the night. By the time I rushed into the cold room, the last batch of cell samples had already thawed.

The logger next to the liquid nitrogen tank flashed a frantic red. Condensation frosted the cryoboxes.

Three years of work. Our final viable preclinical batch. Gone.

Colt Remington stood at the entrance. His suit jacket was draped over Vivian Rhodes's shoulders, his arm shielding half her body.

Vivian was shaking with sobs, gripping his cuff.

He shot me a look, his tone colder than the siren. "It's just a batch of samples. Stop scaring her."

I gripped the heavy door, the metal edge biting into my fingers.

At that moment, I didn't even look at Vivian. I didn't ask Colt why her name was on the restricted access log.

I just looked down and unclipped my ID badge. The plastic snap echoed with a faint click.

Over our four-year marriage, I'd heard similar excuses countless times.

"Vivian just got back to the States. She doesn't know anyone here, Sloane, cut her some slack."

"Remington Group is funding this project. What does it matter if she looks at the data?"

"Stop acting so high and mighty about your research. You only married me for Remington Group's resources anyway."

I used to defend myself.

I'd explain that I'd been building this research since undergrad, that Remington Group was just a late-stage investor, and that Vivian's overseas paper heavily borrowed from my early models.

Tonight, I was done explaining.

*****

I walked into my office, shut the door, and woke up my computer.

A divorce settlement template had been sitting in my drafts for three months.

I saved it the day Vivian first sat in on my project meeting as a "co-researcher."

I deleted the entire section on asset division, leaving only two conditions.

First, the dissolution of our marriage.

Second, Remington Group Pharmaceuticals must surrender all exclusive rights to the rare disease drug project registered under my name.

The alarm was still blaring as the printer spat out the pages.

I signed Sloane Garrett, slipped off my wedding ring, and used it to weigh down the first page.

The diamond felt cold. As cold as the dead samples in the next room.

Colt pushed the door open just as I dropped the backup drive of my lab logs into my tote.

He scowled. "What kind of tantrum are you throwing now?"

I slid the papers across the desk. "Sign it."

His face darkened as he read the heading. "Sloane, enough."

Vivian lingered behind him, her eyes still red-rimmed. "Sloane, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I really just wanted to help. I thought it was a regular freezer plug."

I looked up at her. "A regular freezer?"

She bit her lip, shrinking back as if I'd scared her.

Colt immediately stepped in front of her. "She isn't on your team. She doesn't know the protocols. The accident happened, and there's a process for accountability.

"What's the point of interrogating her right now?"

"She isn't on my team," I repeated, pointing to the intranet access logs on my monitor. "Then why does she have clearance for the cold room?"

Colt's gaze flickered. "I gave it to her."

Five simple words, but they shattered everything left between us.

Two weeks ago, he hijacked my access requests, claiming Vivian's overseas resume was more than enough to warrant clearance to the core labs.

When I refused, he called me paranoid over dinner.

That same day, June Sawyer's mother sent me a video.

The seven-year-old was lying in a hospital bed, her arms as frail as paper twigs. She forced a smile for the camera and asked, "Dr. Garrett, when will the medicine be ready? I want to go back to school."

I paused the video and looked at Colt. "This isn't just a corporate venture. People are dying waiting for this."

He barely glanced at the screen. "Stop playing savior. Without Remington Group, you couldn't even push a basic IRB review through."

Now, our last viable cells were dead because of the access he handed out. And all he had to say was, "it's just a batch of samples."

I pulled my hand back and shut my laptop. "I'll follow the accountability process. And I'll follow the divorce process."

Colt glared at me, deeply offended. "You think threatening me with divorce is going to make me throw Vivian under the bus?"

"I don't need you to." I dropped another document in front of him. "This is the incident report for the cold room.

"By nine tomorrow morning, I'll submit it to the center's safety committee, the ethics office, and the external review board."

Vivian went pale.

Colt let out a harsh laugh.