Marcus's face went dark. "What the hell are you saying!"

"No, I didn't see anything, I swear," Claire said, waving her hands. Then, in a small voice, "I was just so moved by how sincere Professor Hale was. I grew up in foster care, and I've never met anyone like that. I was jealous of his girlfriend, that's all. I never thought people would twist it into this."

She bent forward to bow, lost her balance, and pitched sideways with a small cry.

Marcus caught her. He stepped in front of her, half-shielding her with his body. "Claire and I have done nothing wrong. Don't put your sick assumptions on us."

Looking at the two of them, him protective and her wounded, something in me went completely cold.

I looked Marcus in the eye. "We're done."

He froze. The color drained from his face. He grabbed my wrist. "I told you we'd talk at home. Once this dies down, I'll go public. Okay?"

He still thought I was throwing a tantrum.

He still thought he could smooth it over the way he always did.

I shook my head, slowly. "We. Are. Done."

Claire's face fell. "Dr. Sinclair, please, I'm sorry. Don't be angry at the professor. He hasn't slept properly in months. It hurts me to see."

Then, quieter: "And the drug he developed just got FDA approval. The reviews are amazing. His career is taking off. Being with him, you'd have everything." Her voice trailed off.

I laughed. "If I wanted name or money, I'd already have both."

To protect his fragile little ego, I had never told Marcus how many patents I held or how many studies I had run.

They had no idea. When I finished my doctorate, half the research institutes and universities in the country had tried to recruit me. Even as a grad student I had been on the team for several drug developments. I held multiple U.S. patents. After I started working, I basically lived in the lab.

And my family…

I glanced at Marcus. "When I started dating Professor Hale here, he was nobody."

It was my second year on faculty, and his first.

We ate together a lot. He couldn't afford anywhere off-campus, so we used the faculty discount at the dining hall and argued about research over reheated pasta.

I had a field trip planned. I needed to study a medicinal plant in its native habitat in the mountains.

Marcus came with me.

We stayed at a small inn in town.

The night before we were supposed to drive back, an earthquake hit.

The emergency alert went off on my phone, but I slept through it.

Marcus broke the door open and woke me.

It was already too late.

The building was coming down. He yanked me out of bed and shoved me under the table, then braced himself over me.

I could hear that he was hurt and trying not to make a sound. I didn't say anything, and neither did he.

When the rescue team found us, they saw him first. He told them there was someone underneath him and to get her out first.

I remember thinking I was going to love this person for a long time.

After that, things moved fast between us.

When he told me he loved me, he said he would always stand behind me and protect me.

But somewhere around the time he took Claire on as a student, the person standing behind me wasn't him anymore.

Marcus saw me drift off, and his voice went hard. "Take it back, Evelyn. Pretend you never said it."

I looked at him like I was meeting him for the first time, and shook my head. "No."

I turned and walked away.

It didn't matter how good things used to be.

I don't hang on to what's gone bad.

I couldn't go back to the apartment. The thought of it made my skin crawl.

I went back to the lab. I needed something to do with my hands.

I dripped the plant extract into a petri dish and turned to log the data.

There was a bang behind me.

A wall of heat hit me, and I was on the floor.

My vision went black.

My back was burning.

Pure survival instinct started dragging me toward the door.

Everything blurred. I heard the lab door beep open.

Running footsteps.

"Dr. Sinclair."

"Dr. Sinclair."

Lisa, one of my students, had come to pick up a report. She found me face-down on the floor and called 911.

On the way to the hospital, my head was spinning. The doctor told me not to fall asleep. They said a student couldn't authorize surgery and they needed my emergency contact, so they asked for my name, my phone passcode, and a number.

I gave them Marcus's name without thinking.

The call connected.

"Hi, is this the emergency contact for Evelyn Sinclair? Ms. Sinclair was burned in a lab explosion. She's being transported to University Medical Center. Can you come in?"

"What did you say?" Marcus's voice jumped. "I'll be right there."

Then, behind him, Claire's voice: "Marcus, the stove. Your food's going to burn."

Footsteps. Then her again, all concern: "Was that Evelyn? Is something wrong with Dr. Sinclair? You should go."

Then, lower: "After what happened today, she's probably upset. She might be trying to scare you, you know, hurting herself for attention."

"You should…"

"Evelyn." Marcus's voice came back on the line, cold and tired and impatient all at once. "There's a limit to this. You don't get to scare me with stuff like this. You're an adult. Be responsible for your own body."

Then the line went dead.

I stared at the black screen, and I couldn't hold it anymore. My throat closed up.

The pain in my back pulled all the way up to my chest.

Tight and burning.

His name was still saved as my emergency contact.

We used to be good. The memories came back without permission.

Once I had fainted in the lab from bad cramps, and they had taken me in. When I woke up, Marcus was passed out at my bedside, unshaven. He had driven all night from a conference. He stroked my face and held me and told me he had been terrified. He told me he had answered a call like that once before, when his mother went into the hospital, and by the time he got home she was gone. He said he was never going to let me go to a hospital alone again.

That Marcus, the one who had looked at me like that, who had spoken to me like that, who had treated me like something he didn't want to break, kept flashing through my head.

And then he blurred and shattered.

"Dr. Sinclair. Dr. Sinclair." The EMT was shaking me. "Your phone."

The screen said S.

"Sweetheart. So you finally decided to pick up." His voice was low and warm.

Everything I had been holding in came up at once. I started crying.

"Sebastian. It hurts. I want to go home."

I was the eldest daughter of the Sinclairs.

I had always wanted to go into medicine, but my family forbade it. My aunt had died from a malpractice case, and they wouldn't let me anywhere near a clinical career.

Then they tried to push me into an arranged marriage.

So I ran.

But when something breaks you, all you want is home.

On the other end, I heard glass crash to the floor. "What's wrong? Where are you right now?"

"There was an explosion. I got hurt. They're taking me to University Medical Center."

Sebastian's voice went flat and fast. "Which road are you on? Give me the plate number."

A few seconds of muffled instruction to his assistant.

"Tell the ambulance to reroute to Mercy General. The OR is ready and the doctors are waiting. I've got someone clearing traffic for you."

Then, softer: "I'm coming. Hold on."

Lucky for me, the blast wasn't strong.

Just surface burns. A few days in the hospital and I would be fine.

The launch event for the anti-cancer drug I had led was in three days. Lisa told me to rest.

"No, I'm going," I said. There was nothing soft in my voice. "Every drug I've made is one of my kids. I'm going to be there when this one is born."

Three days later, the venue was packed with press.

Marcus and Claire were seated dead center.

I had never liked the spotlight, so I took a seat further back.

Marcus sat in the middle. Claire sat next to him, smiling into every camera.

I thought about the first year he had been at the university, the two of us in the dining hall. Every time, he had scooped the better portion onto my tray and then pretended to check his phone, as if he hadn't.

The MC started the program.

The drug had been in the final stage of development when Marcus had begged to join. He said he wanted to contribute to science. He said he didn't even need his name on the paper.

I was moved by it, so I agreed to bring him on. And Claire.

The MC began the introduction.

When he said, "Now I'd like to invite the lead developer to the stage," I straightened my blouse and stood up.

Then he said, "Please join me in welcoming Claire." I froze on my feet.

Every head turned toward me.

"It looks like Dr. Sinclair is just so happy for Claire she couldn't help but stand up to applaud," the MC said, laughing it off.

I jerked my head toward the screen.

Behind the words "Lead Developer," in big letters, was Claire's name.

"That's impossible."

"I led that research! Claire and Marcus only came in at the end." My voice cracked.

"Dr. Sinclair, do you have any evidence?" a reporter called out.

I went up on stage and pulled up the paper and the patent records on the venue laptop.

I stared at the screen. Claire's name. On all of it.

I went cold, and I looked down at Marcus — he knew.

To celebrate the drug, I had scheduled the paper submission and the patent filing for the same day.

The school had an urgent meeting that morning, and Marcus had shown up at the lab to drop off lunch.

He had offered to handle the submissions himself.

There weren't that many coincidences. Every single one of them had been planned.

Claire stood up, her voice trembling. "Dr. Sinclair, I know you have a lot of patents and you're incredibly accomplished. But this drug, I developed this. Everyone can see. My name is on the paper. My name is on the patent."

She paused as if she were steeling herself.

"Even though… even though you're my advisor and I have so much respect for you, I can't give this one up."

Marcus came up on stage and bent close to me, his voice low.

"Evelyn, stop. You already have so many patents. You don't need this one. Claire needs this for her doctoral application. I'll make it up to you."

I shook my head and looked at him, asking without saying anything.

I still wanted to believe he would stand with me, just this once.

He stepped back. Something flickered in his eyes. His mouth moved. Then everything closed.

"I will stake my professional reputation on this," he said to the room. "The primary work behind this research was done by Claire. I can tell you with full responsibility that Claire is an exceptional pharmaceutical researcher."

I looked at him like I had never seen him before.

He knew what I had put into this. The nights. The missed weekends. He knew exactly what an accusation of academic fraud would do to me.

Claire made a small sobbing sound. "Dr. Sinclair, it's okay. You just took a wrong turn. I won't hold it against you."

The room started buzzing.

"I thought Dr. Sinclair was supposed to be brilliant. How does she end up doing something like this?"

"She always seemed so straight-edge. Goes to show."

"She's run out of ideas, I guess. It happens."

Press swarmed me. Microphones came in like spears.

"Dr. Sinclair, can you respond?"

"Dr. Sinclair, are we now questioning your previous research too?"

"Dr. Sinclair, do you have anything that can clear your name?"

"Dr. Sinclair, please."

Their voices crashed in on me. I went pale, and my head emptied out.

It was the first time in my life I had no way to defend myself.

The burn on my back pulled at me, and I couldn't stand straight.

The doors slammed open.

Security came in like a wave, peeling the reporters off me one at a time.

Someone in the room recognized him and stood up.

"Mr. Sterling."

"That's Mr. Sterling."

An arm came around me. Warm and solid.

A voice over my head, gentle.

"It's okay, Evelyn. I'm here."

"I'm sorry. I'm late."