Brendan froze. He hesitated, then changed tack. "Let me take you to dinner tonight. The new therapy is a massive success, and you’re the one who made it happen. We need to celebrate properly."

He paused, glancing at me. "Should we invite Sloane? I think you two should talk. After all, she was just a child when your mother passed away."

My hand trembled, sloshing coffee over the rim of my mug.

Listening to him make excuses for her, I wanted to scream: Wasn't I just a child when my mother was driven into the sea?

I swallowed the rage, took a sip of coffee, and said softly, "This has nothing to do with her. Tonight, it's just us."

We had a divorce to discuss. Outsiders weren't welcome.

My 'sister'? My mother had one daughter. Me. I don't have a sister.

Brendan looked at me, a flicker of smugness on his face; he'd clearly mistaken my anger for jealousy. He opened his mouth to speak, but his phone rang, cutting him off.

He glanced at the screen, and his expression softened at the name "Sloane." He answered without a word to me, just a quick hand gesture as he hurried out of my office.

As the workday ended, a text from him arrived—a reservation for a high-end restaurant in Boston's North End.

I knew this was his attempt at an apology.

I put the printed divorce agreement in my bag and prepared to meet him.

As I was leaving the building, Brendan’s car pulled up. He rolled down the window, and I spotted a woman's handbag on the passenger seat. "Go home and get ready first. I have to see a client. I'll be there soon."

He sped off before he even finished the sentence.

In the past, I would have spent two hours getting ready for a date with him. Agonizing over clothes and makeup, things I was never good at, left me exhausted. Yet I found a strange, desperate pleasure in trying to please him.

This time, I didn't feel the need.

I found a nearby spa, letting the masseuse work the stiffness from my muscles, giving this body, worn down by years of sleepless nights, a moment of peace.

When I arrived at the restaurant in my comfortable flats, he wasn't there yet.

I sent a text. No reply.

I shook my head. Unlike all the other times, I didn't wait. I ordered for myself.

The ambiance was perfect, the food exquisite—a universe away from the sad desk salads I’d been living on at the lab.

So, when the restaurant was closing and Brendan still hadn't shown, I wasn't angry.

He had already betrayed seven years of my life. What was one more broken promise?

He didn't know it, but his signature on our divorce papers was the last—and best—gift he would ever give me.

After dinner, I strolled back toward our luxury apartment on Beacon Hill.

Years of high-intensity work had made me a stranger to the world outside the lab. The warmth and bustle of the streets, the simple vignettes of life unfolding around me—I felt a pulse thrum through me for the first time in years.

Suddenly, I stopped at a familiar street corner.

I realized the garage Brendan and I had first rented to start our company had long been demolished, replaced by a sleek office building.

And the food truck where we used to grab cheap meals every day had been replaced by a trendy bakery.

In that moment, I finally understood. Time and money had changed everything, tainting even the memories I once held dear.

My phone rang. It was my mentor, Professor Evelyn Hayes.

"Tiffany," she said, a hint of hesitation in her voice, "your application to join the 'Chimera' classified biological research project was officially approved yesterday. As your mentor, I need to confirm one last time—are you absolutely sure?"

"This project is highly confidential. Once you join, you'll be cut off from the outside world for at least five years. Without your core patents and leadership, GeneVance, the company you built with your husband, could face a crippling technological gap. It might even collapse. Will your husband agree to this?"

I took a step forward, leaving that familiar street behind. "I'm getting a divorce, Professor," I said firmly. "GeneVance is no longer my problem."

Eager to start the project and leave this toxic chapter behind, I asked my mentor to arrange for my pickup the next day.

My mood for wandering gone, I hailed a cab and went straight home.

The living room lights were on. Brendan was on the sofa, a smile on his lips as he texted.

The moment he saw me, he shoved his phone away. He rushed over, grabbing my hand. "Why didn't you wait for me at the restaurant? The manager said you'd already left when I got there. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me?"

I froze. I hadn't expected him to show, but his self-righteous anger was so absurd it almost made me laugh.