When we arrived at the venue, Loren was already there. Her light yellow dress made her stand out like a spotlight in the crowd.

The moment Arthur saw her, his previously cold expression softened noticeably. From the moment we walked in, I could feel his gaze glued to her—he didn’t even bother hiding it.

“Sister!” Loren beamed and ran over. “I’m so happy to see you here!”

She leaned in and kissed Arthur lightly on the cheek. His ears flushed red on contact.

Then she reached out to touch me.

I blocked her with the file in my hand. “No need.”

Her smile froze midair, her eyes welling up, but she quickly straightened, forcing a brave little grin. “When I’m fully recovered, maybe you won’t hate me so much. I’ll do everything I can—”

Arthur’s face darkened slightly. His eyes finally shifted to me—not with concern, but with irritation.

I didn’t have time for this performance. My focus was on the upcoming partnership meeting. But Loren giggled softly and playfully tapped Arthur’s chest with both hands.

“Arthur, I heard that last time I had an episode at the hospital, I really wanted pickled fried radish. You and Abraham waited two hours in the snow just to get it for me and bring it to my ward? That’s so sweet... I was in a coma then, and I’ve been recovering, so I never got the chance to say thank you.”

Arthur’s expression melted. “We’re family. It was nothing.”

Family? What a joke.

That day, I was writhing in pain at home from a stomach infection, barely able to stand. He left with Abraham for three hours, claiming he had to attend a father-son event.

Turns out, their little “family” event was for Loren.

“Then I owe you and Abraham a big dinner,” Loren said in a coy, sugary voice.

Arthur didn’t decline. A faint smile curved his lips. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

“And of course your sister should come too,” Loren added sweetly. “We all live nearby, don’t we?” Her tone was gentle, but her eyes gleamed with challenge when they landed on me. “Sister, why do you look so tired? I’m the one who's been sick for years, remember?”

I had no interest in this game. “Just focus on taking care of yourself. Stop worrying about others. Maybe if you stopped thinking so much, you wouldn’t be so anemic.”

Her expression faltered before she quickly masked it with a smile. Arthur’s brow furrowed, deeper this time, but he said nothing.

Thankfully, the host announced the start of the seminar, bringing a welcome end to this farce. I walked straight to my seat. One more second around them, and I would’ve thrown up.

I’d be getting married in Hawaii soon. It was likely I wouldn’t be able to continue my research after that. This seminar was important—not just for the institute, but for me. I needed to secure a strong partnership for the team and close the chapter on the years I’d poured into this work.

I had once been accepted to a top-tier medical university. But because it was over a thousand kilometers from home—and I wouldn’t be nearby to donate blood to Loren—my parents altered my application behind my back and forced me into a local nursing program.

They chose nursing not for my future, but because it would help me “take better care of Loren.”

When I resisted, they cut off all financial support. I worked part-time jobs to survive, finally got into graduate school, and chose the major I really wanted. But I got pregnant shortly after, and again, everything was put on hold.

To help Arthur’s research, I even volunteered to be a test subject. It wasn’t until earlier this year that I was finally invited to join this research team. I treasured the opportunity.

I had prepared meticulously for this seminar. I could confidently back up every point with research and evidence.

Loren, on the other hand, with her so-called prestigious education, said almost nothing. Her silence was telling.

When Sterling Company expressed strong interest in collaborating with our team, her face visibly darkened.

“Sister, do you even have the credentials to say that?” Loren finally snapped. “You studied nursing, didn’t you? If you make a mistake, the consequences could be serious.”

I didn’t even bother to look at her. I calmly continued presenting the project and fielding questions from industry professionals, winning nods and applause across the room.

“Professor Steele’s team has a sharp vision and offers truly innovative ideas for drug applications,” an elderly expert praised warmly.

Meanwhile, Loren’s presentation quickly unraveled under scrutiny. A few targeted questions left her floundering. Her expression turned pale as she fumbled with her notes.

“Uh… our data is still being compiled…” she stammered, beads of sweat forming on her brow.

I smiled faintly. I knew exactly how little this “sister” of mine was worth.

Her education had been bought. She couldn’t conduct research if her life depended on it. She’d just heard that healthcare was profitable lately and thought she could ride the wave.

Her company was notorious in the industry for being all talk and no substance—flashy presentations, but no deliverables.

Just then, a man in a tailored suit walked into the center of the venue and made a bold announcement:

“Professor Steele’s project—The Slater Family is investing 500 million.”

The entire venue erupted.

Excited, the host shouted into the microphone, “Looks like Professor Steele’s project has truly captured the spotlight! Not only is the audience in full agreement, but even the Slater Family has stepped in!”

The man in the suit adjusted his glasses and raised a hand to calm the crowd. “Apologies, there’s been a misunderstanding.”

He scanned the room before clarifying, “It’s not Professor Lora’s project. The Slater Family is backing Ms. Loren’s team.”

A hushed silence fell before he dropped the real bombshell.

“Mr. Slater has instructed that as long as it’s Ms. Loren’s research, the Slater Family will fund it—no matter the cost. There is no budget limit.”

The atmosphere changed instantly.

Industry experts, people who had built their careers on rigorous research and data, looked around in confusion. Everyone could sense something wasn’t right—but when capital speaks, who questions science?

The room buzzed again, but this time, all the flattery, all the attention, swirled around Loren.

“Mr. Slater? He’s been out of the industry for seven years! Why return now—and for Loren’s team?”

“Looks like he’s fallen for her, huh?”

“Genius recognizes genius.”

“Loren’s luck is unreal!”

Loren stood in the glow of it all, radiant under the spotlight. She gave me a deliberate smile—sweet, smug, triumphant.

“Mr. Slater really has good taste,” she said with a self-satisfied tilt of her head. “He knows our project has the most market potential.”

She turned to the assistant. “I wonder when we’ll get to meet Mr. Slater in person? Our team would love to thank him.”

The assistant bowed slightly. “Mr. Slater is currently unavailable. When the time is right, he’ll meet you.”

Then, turning to me with mock sympathy, Loren added with a soft sigh, “Oh, sister… I guess your team won’t be getting any investment. That’s such a shame.”

Her voice dipped into false concern. “After all, who in Las Vegas doesn’t know how powerful the Slater Family is? I mean, business is business, but you’re still my sister…”

I turned to Arthur, desperate for even a flicker of explanation.

But his eyes never left her.

They were filled with warmth, with admiration—the tenderness I’d begged for in silence for years. The tenderness he never once gave me.

The rest of the seminar might as well have been a scripted farce. One by one, investors tripped over themselves to praise Loren, like she was the only light in the room.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

Fury boiling in my chest, I slammed the research report down in front of the assistant. “Is the Slater Family trying to crush every other team here?”

The assistant glanced at Arthur. He gave a tiny nod.

The assistant’s face immediately shifted into practiced indifference. “I’m sorry, Ms. Lora. This investment isn’t about research. It’s a personal gift from Mr. Slater to Ms. Loren. His only hope is that she’s happy. The rest is irrelevant.”

My fingers clenched around our project proposal, my knuckles white, my nails digging into the paper.

I stared at Arthur, silently demanding a reaction.

But he didn’t even glance at me.

His world began and ended with Loren.

Well done, Arthur. Very well done.

After the seminar, Loren was surrounded by a sea of reporters and adoring media. She soaked up every word, every camera flash like a celebrity.

I couldn’t bear the sight. I slipped out of the venue, heart pounding, the ache in my chest threatening to drown me.

I just needed work. Something to numb me. As long as I was busy, maybe I wouldn’t have to feel the sting.

But just as I pulled the car door shut, Loren opened the passenger side and slid in.

“Sister,” she chirped, “are you heading back to the institute? I’ve always wanted to see where you work. Can I come along?”

I reached to push her out, but the passenger door was suddenly held firm—by Arthur.

“Drive,” he said flatly.

So I did.

Loren babbled the whole way back, basking in the afterglow of her big moment.

“Arthur, why do you think Mr. Slater picked our team?” she asked with childlike excitement.

Arthur smiled as though she’d asked something precious. “Because he likes you.”

Loren turned bright pink. “Arthur, stop teasing me!”

“I’m not teasing,” he replied softly. “You’re brilliant. Anyone would fall for you.”

Then, as if it suddenly struck her, she turned slightly and asked, “If we had met first, would you have fallen for me instead?”

Arthur looked startled, about to respond.

But Loren smiled sadly and cut him off. “Just kidding. There’s no ‘if.’ What’s missed is missed.”

“You’re only three years older,” he murmured.

“Three years is still older,” she said, her tone suddenly playful. “Call me sister.”

I couldn’t take any more.

“Are you done flirting?” I snapped coldly. “If you want to keep playing house, get out of the car.”

Loren's eyes shimmered with sudden tears. “I’m sorry, sister. I was just... thinking about the past. Got emotional.”

I glanced into the rearview mirror.

Arthur was looking at her with such heartache, like he was watching something fragile and beloved.

And then he looked at me—only contempt in his eyes.

Even though I had prepared myself for this betrayal, the pain still cut deep.

Because no matter how hard I worked, how much I gave up, or how much I loved… in the end, everyone always chose Loren.

The lab lights were cold and harsh, casting a sterile glow across the spotless counters. The air was thick with the sharp scent of disinfectant and chemicals.

I kept my head down, reviewing data while expertly prepping the instrument for the re-inspection.

Behind me, a soft giggle broke the silence.

“Brother Arthur, what’s this? It looks so magical...” Loren’s syrupy voice floated through the room.

From the corner of my eye, I saw her pressing close—her chest nearly brushing Arthur’s arm, her delicate face tilted up with feigned innocence.

Arthur leaned slightly away, putting a hand’s width of space between them. “You can look,” he said with a small cough, “but don’t touch.”

But his ears were flushed red. Even his breathing quickened.

I inserted the final reagent into the centrifuge and said flatly, “This is a lab, not a date spot. Could you two take this somewhere else?”

Loren pouted. “Sister, are you mad again?”

Before I could answer, a sharp alarm pierced the air—Beep!

I turned just in time to see the culture dish wobble precariously. Loren had nudged the workstation, and a line of liquid now oozed out, giving off a foul, acrid stench that spread instantly.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” I asked, jaw clenched.

“I-I just wanted a better look,” she stammered, snatching her hand back and turning to Arthur, eyes glistening. “I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry…”

“Get out!” I snapped, retrieving a fresh pair of gloves and the cleaning kit from the disinfectant cabinet. “This is a laboratory, not your stage performance!”

Arthur finally moved, stepping in to check the control panel and stability readings. He exhaled in relief. “It’s okay. Nothing’s broken. Just—don’t touch anything again. You could’ve gotten hurt.”

I glared at him. “Oh, so now you remember this is a lab?”

He looked guilty. “I didn’t notice—”

“Of course you didn’t,” I cut in coldly, sarcasm curling around every word. “You were far too busy playing knight-in-shining-armor.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he backed up half a step. “Lora, watch your tone—and your identity.”

Identity?

I laughed bitterly. “Give it a few days. Once I’m gone, you won’t need to worry about mine anymore.”

Before he could respond, a sharp scream shattered the air.

“Ahhh!”

It was Loren.

Corrosive waste had erupted from one of the backup pipes. The stench was suffocating, the liquid bubbling on the floor.

“Loren! Get away from there!” Arthur shouted. His expression twisted in panic as he lunged forward, shielding Loren with his entire body.

“Don’t move,” he said hoarsely, clutching her close. “Be careful!”

Loren trembled, eyes wide. She turned and, in her panic, slammed the emergency safety door shut—locking me inside.

I froze.

The searing liquid splashed onto my back, and agony tore through me like wildfire. The burning sensation stole the air from my lungs, and the chemical fumes curled into my nose and throat like invisible claws.

I bit down hard on my lip, trying to stay conscious. But my legs buckled. My vision blurred.

The last thing I saw was Arthur holding Loren in his arms—like she was the most fragile, precious thing in the world.

And me?

Left behind.

---

The pain pulled me back to consciousness like a hook in the chest. Every breath was laced with fire.

I turned my head with effort—and froze.

Loren was curled on the bedside, sobbing into Arthur’s chest.

“You’re my sister’s husband... you treat me so well... I-I shouldn't have...”

Her voice cracked.

“I didn’t mean to close the door. I was scared... I didn’t know what to do…”

Her trembling hands clutched at his sleeves like lifelines.

Arthur brushed her tears away gently, his touch feather-light. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered. “The equipment’s old. Accidents happen.”

“She’ll be okay, right?” Loren’s voice was barely audible.

He stroked her cheek tenderly. “Even if I had to choose again a hundred times… I’d still protect you first.”

“Why?” Loren lifted her tear-streaked face.

Arthur gazed at her, his voice low and fervent. “Because I like—”