Chapter 2

Colt said, "Do you even realize what you're doing? Remington Group is the primary backer. If you blow this up, the only person you destroy is yourself."

I stood up. "I've already been destroyed once."

I glanced toward the hallway leading to the lab. "Tonight is on you."

By the next morning, Colt hadn't signed the divorce papers.

Instead, his assistant delivered a data-sharing agreement to my office.

The terms were clear.

Core project data would be centrally managed by the Remington Group Research Hub.

Vivian would join the upcoming R&D phases as a co-director, and all authorship for papers and clinical filings would be reordered based on "contribution."

I flipped to the last page. Colt's signature was already there. He sat across from me, tapping his fingers against my desk.

"Sign it," he ordered. "I can bury the accident. The group will inject additional funding to rebuild the sample bank."

"And the condition is bringing Vivian on board?" I asked.

"She has overseas experience in clinical translation. She'll be an asset."

"She can't even identify a freezer plug."

Colt's expression darkened. "Are you really going to fixate on that?"

I snapped the folder shut. "An entire batch of preclinical samples lost. Three solid years of continuous data broken.

"Regulatory review pushed back by at least six months. This isn't just a minor detail, Colt."

He fell silent, his patience fraying. "You knew exactly what Remington Group brought to the table from day one.

"Now that we're at a critical stage, you refuse to share. You're just terrified Vivian is actually going to produce results and steal your thunder."

The office was dead quiet.

Through the glass partition, I saw a few junior researchers keeping their heads down, afraid to look our way.

I'd spent countless sleepless nights in this building.

The first time Colt picked me up from work, it was two in the morning. He stood in the doorway with coffee and food, frowning.

"Don't run yourself into the ground like this," he'd said.

Back then, I thought he just didn't know how to show he cared.

Later, I realized he simply couldn't stomach the idea that anything in my life mattered more than him.

I slid the agreement back across the desk. "I'm not signing."

Colt leaned back in his chair, his voice turning to ice. "Then effective today, your access to the core labs is suspended. Project funding is frozen pending a formal investigation."

I nodded. "Fine."

He flinched.

In the past, whenever he threatened my funding or access, I caved.

I knew the June Sawyers of the world couldn't wait.

But he forgot one crucial detail. The patients waiting for a cure weren't a weakness for him to exploit.

They were the exact reason I had to leave.

I walked back to my station and washed the last coffee mug left on my desk.

It had a hairline fracture at the base. I'd dropped it during a late shift in my second year of marriage.

Colt hadn't answered my calls that night because Vivian was going through a breakup in Europe, sobbing to him across time zones until dawn.

"She's all alone out there," he justified it when he finally came home. "Who else is she supposed to call?"

I kept the cracked mug back then, foolishly believing a tiny fracture wouldn't stop it from holding water.

Now I knew the truth. Sooner or later, everything was going to leak out.

*****

At noon, Vivian convened an internal briefing.

I wasn't invited, but the topic was plastered across the center's digital bulletin board: [Rare Genetic Disorder JN-17: Data Integrity Assessment and Optimization Strategy.

[Presenter: Vivian Rhodes.]

I stood outside the conference room, listening to her soft voice drift through the cracked door.

"There have definitely been some reproducibility issues with the early data. Since I got back, I've been helping Colt audit the files.

"Sloane has been under immense pressure, and her record keeping might have slipped. Let's not jump to malicious conclusions."

Someone murmured a question. "What about the cold storage incident?"

Vivian paused. "I'm not trying to shift blame. But I only went in there because I noticed some sample labels didn't match the logs.

"Sloane was highly emotional. She probably just didn't want to face an external audit."

I shoved the door open. The room fell dead silent.

Vivian froze by the projector, the color draining from her face.

Colt sat in the front row, not bothering to turn around.

I tossed a stack of papers onto the conference table. "Since we're evaluating data integrity, make sure this goes into the official minutes."

Vivian's fingers stiffened as she read the cover page.

It was a copy of the incident report I'd filed with the safety committee.

She managed a tight, nervous smile. "Sloane, this is just an internal meeting. There's no need to..."

"You mentioned reproducibility issues with my early data," I interrupted, addressing the entire room. "Please list the specific batch numbers, the original log page numbers, and the replication conditions.

"If you can't, strike the phrase 'record keeping might have slipped' from the minutes entirely."

Colt finally turned his head. "Sloane, you don't have clearance for this room."

"I have sign-off authority as the primary investigator until you formally terminate me."

I dropped my ID badge onto the table.