Laica had been a corporate spy, but she had framed Jennelyn, destroying her career to cover her own crimes.
Helena stared at the evidence for a long time, then slowly smiled.
It was a cold, sharp smile that sent shivers down the spine.
At dinner, the air was suffocatingly tense.
Helena ate in silence, as if the ordeal in the basement had never happened. Then, she suddenly looked up at Jackson. Her tone was unnervingly calm.
"I've thought it through," she said softly.
"I won't go out anymore. I'll stay home and continue my research in the lab."
Jackson paused mid-cut, his knife and fork hovering in the air. He studied her carefully.
Her expression was blank, almost numb—like someone who had finally accepted her fate.
"That's good," he said approvingly.
He set down his cutlery, his tone softening, as if granting mercy. "You can focus on your research here. I'll help compile your work into a paper for publication."
Helena's eyes flickered with a cold, mocking light.
'Help me publish?' she thought bitterly. 'You mean give them to Laica—to pave her way to glory with my blood and sweat.'
But she nodded obediently, playing her part. Then she rose and walked upstairs.
When she returned, she was holding a thick stack of documents in her hands.
"These are my research manuscripts from before I was imprisoned," she said quietly. "Sign your name on the cover page, and they'll be ready for publication."
Jackson took the papers, the sight of her docile obedience made the irritation in his heart began to fade.
He flipped to the first page, ready to glance through it—but before he could, his private phone buzzed sharply.
The name flashing on the screen softened his entire face in an instant.
"Hello, Laica."
On the other end, Laica's sweet, excited voice chimed through. "Jackson! My thesis just won the award! There's a celebration party tonight—will you come with me?"
"Of course," he replied without hesitation.
As soon as the call ended, he was already on his feet.
He picked up the stack of documents Helena had given him, glanced at the cover page only briefly, and scribbled his signature without reading another word.
Sliding the signed papers back across the table, he grabbed his jacket from the chair and headed for the door.
"Jackson." Her cold, steady voice stopped him.
He frowned slightly, turning back impatiently.
"What is it now?"