Violet Morris was the organization's youngest genius scientist—and they'd entrusted her with a critical mission. It had taken her three years to lock down every last piece of data needed for the experiment. On the day of the experiment, all eyes were on it. She turned to leave the lab for final prep—then an explosion ripped through the space behind her. Flames erupted. More explosions followed.

She whipped around. Her apprentice, Ella Young, stumbled out—pale, bloodstained, muttering under her breath, "I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to..."

Violet grabbed her by the collar, eyes blazing with fury. "What have you done this time? Where are the records? Did you bring them out?"

Ella trembled violently and dropped to her knees. "I—I..." she stammered.

Feeling the ground fall out from under her, Violet slapped Ella across the face. "Get out of my project team. I never want to see you again," she said, ignoring Ella's tearful pleas and turning to run toward the lab. The data was three years of her and her team's blood, sweat, and tears. Losing it meant losing everything.

As she spun around, she collided with a solid figure. Her wrist was caught in a firm grip. "Violet! What have you done to Ella now?"

Violet's voice shook. "Duncan, she wrecked the entire lab! Are you seriously taking her side again? Let go of me—I have to salvage the data."

Duncan, her husband, frowned and cut a suspicious glance at Ella. Ella scrambled over and clung to his pants, pleading, "Duncan, I was only trying to help Violet get the experiment started sooner. I never thought it would end like this. Let me try to save the data. If I can't save it, let me die in the explosion."

She rushed to stand, but her shaky legs sent her stumbling into Duncan's arms. He steadied her, then looked at Violet with disappointment. "She's already hurt. What more do you want? Is a lab more important than a life?"

Violet recoiled like she'd been slapped. A hollow ache opened up inside her. This wasn't the first time Duncan had blindly taken Ella's side—but Violet was his wife, the one he'd sworn to protect forever. Another explosion jolted her back to reality, and she turned to run into the lab again, only for Ella to stop her.

"Violet, it's dangerous. Don't go," Ella pleaded.

Violet roughly shook her off. "Move aside!" But as she pushed forward, Ella latched onto her leg, sobbing, "Violet, you're a star in the scientific community, the woman Duncan loves, and my most respected mentor. If anything happened to you, I'd carry that guilt for the rest of my life. But it's different for me—no one would miss me. If someone has to sacrifice their life for this data, let it be me."

Violet stared coldly at Ella's dramatic display and pushed her aside. "Stop getting in my way." But as she moved forward again, Duncan stepped into her path, his voice harsh.

"Didn't you hear her? If you die, she'll carry that guilt forever..."

Violet's chest tightened. He wasn't stopping her because he was afraid she'd die—he was stopping her so Ella wouldn't have to live with the guilt.

Violet let out a dry laugh, ready to fire back—then she heard it. A faint cry for help from inside the lab. The voice sounded so much like her brother's. She turned sharply to Ella. "Is my brother in there?"

Ella shook her head, fast and frantic. "That area's off-limits. No one could just wander in."

But Violet caught the guilty flicker in Ella's eyes. Her brother... Her brother... Violet turned sharply, determined to rush inside, but Duncan's arms clamped around her like steel, holding her back.

Something inside Violet finally snapped. Tears flooded her eyes. "Duncan, my brother's in there. Please, let me go. Let me in."

Duncan frowned, irritation etched across his face. "Ella's right. How would your brother even get into a lab? Violet, if the data's lost, I'll explain it to the higher-ups. I'll make sure they don't hold you responsible. But I won't let you go in there to die."

Through a blur of tears, Violet stared toward the lab. She could hear her brother's weak voice calling for her, and it felt like her heart was being ripped in two. She was done pleading. She bit down hard on Duncan's arm. Blood flooded her mouth, and he let go with a pained grunt.

Violet bolted for the lab. She was almost through the doorway when a heavy blow landed on the back of her neck. As darkness swallowed her, she heard Duncan sigh softly, "Ella is sensitive. If something happens to you, what will become of her?"

A colleague shook Violet awake, their face etched with grief.

“Violet, your brother… he didn’t survive the explosion,” they said.

She shot upright, her gaze locking onto the small, charred form beside her—still clutching the lucky charm she’d given him. Her mind spiraled back to her brother—frightened, helpless, clutching that charm and calling out, “Sis, help me—I’m scared.”

A crushing pain seized her chest, like a vise clamping around her heart.

She reached out with trembling fingers, almost touching his small, soot-covered face, when her mother’s voice cut through the air. In an instant, her mother was beside her, her voice shaking.

“Where is your brother? Where’s your brother?” she demanded, her eyes wild.

Violet turned her dazed eyes to the charred remains on the floor. Her mother screamed in terror and slapped her across the face.

“You’re lying! That’s not your brother. Violet Morris, bring me my son—bring him back!”

Tears streamed down her face, but before she could speak, her mother fainted.

At the hospital, her mother was rushed into surgery. Violet stood in the hallway, watching colleagues being wheeled in and out—injured, bruised. Despair loomed over her, threatening to swallow her whole. These were the colleagues she’d fought hard to bring onto the project. Now that disaster had struck, how would she face their families? And her brother—how would she ever face her mother?

Lost in thought, she barely registered Duncan calling her name from behind.

“The institute’s in chaos. How can you just show up at the hospital?” He stopped in front of her, his eyes widening at the abrasions on her neck and arms.

“How did you get hurt?” he asked, reaching out to comfort her. She pulled away, and Duncan frowned.

“The institute is already in enough disarray. Are you really going to pick a fight with me right now?” Frustration sharpened his voice.

“You know how Ella is—sensitive and timid. She’s been through a lot. Without immediate care and reassurance, this could leave a lasting impact,” he continued. “I need to stay with her; I can’t leave. I need you to keep an eye on things at the institute for me.”

A bitter laugh slipped out. “So why I’m at the hospital doesn’t even matter to you?” she said. “Duncan, who is your wife, really?”

“Violet!” Duncan’s face darkened.

“If it weren’t for Mr. Young’s sacrifice, the institute would never have been founded. Your project wouldn’t have gotten funding. You should be grateful,” he said. “Since you’re the project lead, you should take full responsibility for this explosion.”

“What did you just say?” she asked, her fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms.

She stared at him with despair, as though he were a stranger. Four years ago, Ella’s father—a chauffeur—had driven Duncan to secure approval for the new research institute. On the way, a car accident took his life—but not before he saved Duncan. The officials were moved, admiring their dedication to scientific progress, and promptly granted the funding.

After that, Duncan brought Ella—sixteen at the time—into their home and made sure she was cared for. Back then, Violet was so consumed by the institute’s construction and their projects that she didn’t pay attention. By the time she realized something was wrong, Duncan’s heart already belonged to Ella.

Afraid Ella would be bored, Duncan insisted on putting her on Violet’s research team. One day she lost a file, and Duncan Morris said she was young and needed more understanding. The next day she broke a piece of equipment, and Duncan said she needed hands-on practice to learn. Then she leaked data, and he said her innocence was the rarest quality in society. No matter what chaos she caused, Duncan always defended Ella—and left Violet to pick up the pieces.

Violet was the one staying up all night to recreate missing documents, repair broken instruments, and recalculate parameters without rest. For the project’s success, she endured it over and over. But now, after such a devastating disaster, was she supposed to carry this burden too?

Her heart sank with despair as she got ready to refuse, when a young nurse hurried over. "Director Morris, Ms. Young is having another emotional episode. She’s asking to see you. Please, come quickly."

Duncan turned immediately, pausing only to glance back at her, as if he’d just remembered she was there. "Go back and deal with the aftermath. Also, write a five-thousand-word reflection and apologize publicly at tomorrow’s meeting." With that, he walked off without looking back, his hurried steps betraying just how rushed he was.

"Oh wow, Ms. Young just had a little scare, and Director Morris is already so worried. What a knight in shining armor!" someone gushed.

"Shh, his wife is right there. Keep your voice down," another whispered.

"What’s the big deal? Violet Morris always looks so stern, like everyone owes her something. She’s all about work and has no feminine charm. If I were Director Morris, I’d prefer someone as lively and sweet as Ms. Young too."

Violet kept her head down, chuckling bitterly as their gossip faded into the background. No one knew she’d been the one to turn down the marriage at first—that he’d been the one who pursued her relentlessly. Never mind. Once all this was sorted out, she’d talk to Duncan about a divorce.

Lost in thought, she barely noticed her mother being wheeled out of the operating room. "The surgery was successful, but she remains unconscious and will need close monitoring for twenty-four hours," the doctor told them.

Holding her mother’s cold hand, she was overwhelmed with grief. Just the day before, her mother and brother had come by to drop off a new outfit, as a good-luck gesture for the experiment. Her brother hadn’t wanted to leave, and Violet had agreed to let him stay, promising to take good care of him. Now she couldn’t bear to think about it, tears streaming down her cheeks.

She gently wiped her mother’s hands and face, massaging them and talking to her until she slowly woke the next morning. Her first words were, "Where is Rohan? I want to see Rohan."

She closed her eyes. "Mom, he’s gone."

A hard slap landed across her face. "Is this how you took care of him? He was only five, Violet Morris. Only five."

Her mother wept bitterly, her emotions eventually calming. "Tell me the truth. Was it your mistake that caused the lab explosion?"

She shook her head hard, but before she could explain, a crowd burst into the room, raining punches and kicks on her and cursing the whole time.

"Murderer, give me back my family!"

"If you hadn’t dragged my husband into your research, this never would have happened."

"The data was flawed, but you pushed for the experiment anyway. Were you that desperate for fame?"

She tried desperately to explain. She insisted the data was sound—that even she still didn’t know what caused the explosion—but no one listened.

"Director Morris has already released the accident report. Stop arguing!"

"It wasn’t me, I swear..."

But her pleas were drowned out by the noise as a thermos shattered. Her mother pointed a trembling finger at her. "Violet Morris, you did kill Rohan!"

"How many families have you ruined for your research? And now, for a title and a little glory, you let others perish with you! Violet Morris, you’re no daughter of mine."

She shook her head over and over, her voice hoarse and choked. "Mom, it’s not like that. It’s not."

Years ago, when her mother’s best friend, Mrs. Smith, wanted to rush home to see her critically ill husband, Violet had refused to let Mrs. Smith leave, begging her to stay two more days because the experiment was at a critical stage. In those two days, her husband passed away. She never got to see him one last time, and Mrs. Smith was consumed by grief, dying shortly after. Violet’s mother held on to that resentment for a long time, seeing her as lost to the madness of science, devoid of humanity. Their relationship had only begun to heal last year.

But her denials were futile. With her mother’s accusations further fueling the crowd’s anger, the blows became more brutal. From crouching defensively on the floor to lying helplessly on the ground, she shielded her head, biting her lip to stifle any cries.

A familiar pair of shoes—a signature style of Duncan’s—appeared in the room, halting the chaos. She looked up through bloodied eyes, seeking him with a silent plea. "Duncan, tell my mother I had no part in this."

He approached slowly, crouching beside her and gently stroking her head. "Violet, it’s okay to make mistakes. I’ll stand by you to face them together."