The next day, all my information and that of the blogger were laid bare.

I discovered that it was Sophie who had stolen my data.

No wonder Ethan had acted so strangely yesterday, even uttering words that contradicted his principles.

He must have known the truth all along.

But because it was Sophie, he was willing to abandon his values and forsake his morals.

Not all the netizens were oblivious; some began to suspect that Sophie was the real plagiarist once they learned about our relationship.

After all, who would be foolish enough to present plagiarized data at a competition?

Sophie's actions seemed too selfless to be genuine.

However, those suspicions were quickly silenced.

Ethan organized a press conference for Sophie, where she presented her initial data.

Standing tall and composed, she confidently told the cameras that the refined data was derived from countless hours of work based on her initial findings.

After proving her "innocence," she generously advised everyone, "Please stop fixating on this issue; there's no question of who plagiarized whom between Emma and me."

"Though I'm not officially married yet, in my heart, we are already family. If I had known she would enter this work into a competition, I would never have released it; this is truly just a misunderstanding."

Her seemingly supportive words only fueled public outrage against me.

People called me brainless, claiming I lacked independent thought and could only rely on others' work.

They said I was ungrateful and had brought shame upon my parents.

I trembled as I clicked on the latest comment, "Thank goodness her parents died early; otherwise, they'd be dead from shame by now."

It felt like a boulder had lodged in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

My phone slipped from my grasp and shattered on the floor.

I drifted out of the villa like a lost soul.

Passersby pointed at me, and I raised my hand to shield half my face as I walked aimlessly forward.

I lost track of time and didn't even notice when a man approached me with a knife.

He pushed me down to the ground, pressing his leg against my back while hurling insults. "You filthy thief! You've embarrassed our tech academy with your plagiarism; keeping your hands is just a curse!"

As soon as he finished speaking, pain shot through my wrist.

The man ran away.

I struggled to get up, staring blankly at the dark red pool spreading around me.

Just then, a familiar figure rushed over and gathered me in his arms.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself looking into Kyle's concerned gaze.

I tried to sit up, but he gently pressed down on my shoulder. "Don't move; you just had surgery."

As memories flooded back, I remembered what had happened before I fainted. "Did they catch him?" My voice came out hoarse and raspy.

Kyle quickly poured a glass of water and held a straw to my lips. "The police will handle it; just focus on recovering."

After I drank some water, he hesitated before saying, "I wasn't sure if you wanted to see anyone else, so I didn't notify anyone—Ethan included."

"If you want to see them, I can contact them right now."

I paused for a moment before shaking my head.

I didn't want to see him or Sophie.

During my ten days in the hospital, seniors and mentors visited me in turns.

Everyone tacitly avoided mentioning my hand injury or the competition.

As for Ethan? It seemed he had forgotten about me entirely; he hadn't even bothered to check in.

On the day I was expelled from school, my seniors and mentors gathered around my hospital bed, cursing Ethan.

"What kind of person is Ethan? He's blinded by desire and has turned right and wrong upside down," one said.

"Exactly! If he hadn't held a press conference for Sophie under the Hunter name, we wouldn't be in this situation," another added.

Jean, one of the seniors, gently patted my head with concern. "You have so much talent in this field. With a reputation like this, what will you do in the future?"

Kyle, who had been quiet until now, suddenly spoke up. "Emma, come abroad with me. Your talent shouldn't be buried under all this nonsense."

I bit my lip and glanced at my injured right hand, which had lost its function.

What could I possibly do at Kyle's company in this condition?

Sensing my hesitation, Kyle continued, "Emma, our field relies on intellect, not just manual skills. Besides, your hand will heal; it just needs time."

His words convinced me.

I truly didn't want to give up on my research career.

On the day I was discharged from the hospital, Ethan saw me return but didn't care about where I had been for the past ten days. Instead, he reprimanded me with a stern face. "Had enough fun? Are you ready to come back?"

I didn't stop walking; I silently headed upstairs.

Ethan grabbed my arm, seizing my injured wrist.

Pain shot through me, and I winced but clenched my teeth to hold back any sound.

Noticing my discomfort, he quickly released me and looked at the bandage on my wrist. "What happened to your wrist?"

"It's injured," I replied curtly, avoiding his gaze.

He immediately took hold of my other hand and started to lead me outside. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

I didn't refuse.

I was curious how he would feel if he knew that my injury was a result of his favoritism.

But halfway there, Sophie's call interrupted us.

In an instant, Ethan forgot about my injury and changed course, driving us to a hotel instead.

The floor was covered in rose petals, romantic music played softly in the background, and there stood Sophie in her veil.

Ethan smiled widely as he hurried over to embrace her, kissing her deeply. "Sophie, don't worry; once you graduate, I'll marry you."

I slipped away amidst the cheers and applause.

Alone back at the villa, I decided to sell everything Ethan had given me online.

I listed them at prices even lower than those on secondhand markets, so they sold quickly.

While Ethan took Sophie out, I evaded the house staff and shipped everything off.

On my way back home, I bought a bucket of wall paint and headed straight for the attic.

The photos that had once felt so precious now became memories sealed beneath layers of paint—each one hidden away forever.

After finishing that task, I bought fresh flowers and good wine for a final farewell at the martyr's cemetery with my father.

I leaned against his gravestone from noon until sunset until Kyle arrived to pick me up.

When we returned to the villa, Ethan still hadn't come back.

I thought he likely wouldn't return tonight.

Dragging along the already packed luggage, I placed my bank card and a farewell letter on the table before turning to leave the house where I had lived for nine years.

Goodbye, Ethan.