"Professor Hamilton only accepted one student. Helena's talent surpassed Laica and he clearly favored her, so she had to step aside."
The words were spoken so casually, yet they crushed Helena's world to dust.
Shawn's tone turned suggestive. "Still, Helena's face and figure—even after three years in prison, she's stunning. And technically, you two are still husband and wife, right? You could..."
"Wife?" Jackson let out a cold laugh. "That marriage certificate from three years ago was fake."
"I never intended to marry her."
Helena's whole body began to tremble violently. A sharp, metallic taste rose in her throat, and she nearly lost her balance.
Fake...
Even the wedding she had treasured so much was nothing more than a carefully orchestrated lie.
Shawn burst into laughter. "You really outdid yourself! But Helena's real strength is her research. What a waste to let that go, huh?"
Jackson tapped the table once, twice—a slow, clinical rhythm that landed like a hammer on Helena's chest. "She doesn't need to know the truth about three years ago. From now on, she'll stay at home, quietly clearing the way for Laica's work. She'll be nothing more than Laica's stepping stone."
Those words were the last straw. Helena couldn't listen any longer. She spun on her heel, and stumbled out like someone running from a fire. The pain in her injured leg stabbed with every step, but it was nothing compared with the ache in her heart.
She could not believe the man who once took a bullet for her and almost lost his life—the man she thought loved her—had been plotting her ruin from the start. The marriage certificate was fake; there were no legal ties to hold her. Leaving would be easier than she'd feared.
She ran back to the marital suite she had designed three years earlier and unlocked the secret safe in the basement she had installed herself. Inside lay the fruit of years of effort—all the research she'd poured her life into and the proof that she had quietly financed assistance to the Cabrera Group.
Those research papers held everything she had ever been proud of—the sum of her dreams, her youth, her life's purpose.
With trembling hands, she dug up a number she hadn't called in years and dialed. When the call connected, a low male voice answered, "Who is it?"
Hearing it broke her. The tension she'd carried for three years unraveled in a flood of grief and fury.