Chapter 3

The first light of dawn crept through the blinds as I formulated my plan. Sleep had been impossible—my mind too busy calculating, strategizing, preparing for war. I opened my closet and selected the most inconspicuous outfit I owned: dark jeans, a gray hoodie, and flat shoes that wouldn't make a sound on the polished floors of Sterling Tech.

In the back of my desk drawer, beneath a stack of academic journals, lay a small plastic fob—a maintenance key I'd been given years ago when the security system was being upgraded. Marcus had told me to turn it in, but in my typical absentminded-professor fashion, I'd forgotten. Now, that small oversight might be my salvation.

I parked three blocks away from Sterling Tech headquarters, pulling my hood up as I approached the building. The main entrance would be monitored, but the service door in the underground parking garage was only used by maintenance staff who arrived before the building officially opened.

My heart pounded as I pressed the fob against the reader. One second. Two seconds. The light flashed green, and the door clicked open. I slipped inside, immediately pressing myself against the wall, listening for any sound that might indicate I wasn't alone.

Nothing.

The service corridors were dimly lit and smelled of industrial cleaner. I moved silently, mentally tracing the building's layout. If any evidence of my work remained, it would be in one of two places: the R&D server room or Marcus's private office. The server room would be too risky—too many cameras, too many potential witnesses as the IT team arrived. Marcus's office was my best bet.

I took the service elevator to the executive floor, which was still dark and empty. The cleaning staff had already come and gone, and the executive team wouldn't arrive for at least another hour. Marcus's corner office stood at the end of the hallway, its glass walls offering a panoramic view of San Francisco Bay.

As I approached, I noticed a light was already on. My steps faltered. Who would be here this early?

I crept closer, keeping to the shadows, until I could see through the partially open door. What I saw froze the blood in my veins.

Marcus had Amanda pressed against his desk, his hands tangled in her hair as they kissed with desperate intensity. Her crimson suit from yesterday was wrinkled, her blouse half-unbuttoned. They weren't just colleagues. They weren't just conspirators.

"When will you tell her?" Amanda murmured, pulling back slightly, her lipstick smeared across Marcus's mouth.

"Soon," he promised, his hands sliding down to her hips. "Once the robot launches, once the funding comes through. The genius Dr. Chen will be history once this robot launches our empire."

Amanda laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "She still doesn't suspect anything?"

"She's brilliant with algorithms, hopeless with people," Marcus replied, his voice dripping with contempt. "That's why it was so easy to take what we needed."

I pressed my hand against my mouth to stifle the sound that threatened to escape. It wasn't just professional theft. It wasn't just academic fraud. It was a complete betrayal of everything we'd built together—our marriage, our future, our trust.

Somehow, I managed to back away, to retrace my steps through the service corridors and out into the morning air. The drive home passed in a blur, my vision clouded with tears I refused to shed.

Inside our house—no, his house, it had always been his house—I moved with mechanical precision. I called my bank and transferred my personal savings to a new account. I packed a small bag with essentials. And finally, I called Patricia Winters, the most ruthless divorce attorney in Silicon Valley.

"I need to file for divorce immediately," I said when she answered, my voice steadier than I expected. "On grounds of marital fraud, intellectual property theft, and emotional abuse."

"That's quite a list, Dr. Chen," she replied, her tone professional but curious. "Can you prove any of it?"

I thought of the note in the handbag. The server logs. The maintenance key fob that had given me access to the truth.

"Not yet," I admitted. "But I will."

As I hung up, my phone buzzed with a notification. An email from the San Francisco Police Department, requesting my presence for questioning regarding allegations of corporate espionage.

They were moving faster than I'd anticipated. The game was changing, the stakes escalating.

But so was I.