Novels by kimdokja2006

The television in the motel room had twelve channels. Elara flipped through them while eating a protein bar she'd bought from the vending machine in the lobby. Her second meal in two days.She stopped on Channel 7.Marcus was on the screen.He sat in a leather chair across from a news anchor, his expression grave and concerned. The banner at the bottom of the screen read: "Pharmaceutical Leader Speaks Out About Ex-Partner's Mental Health Crisis."Elara turned up the volume."Dr. Sterling, thank you for joining us today," the anchor said. She was a polished woman in her forties with perfect hair and sympathetic eyes. "I know this must be difficult for you to talk about.""It is," Marcus said, running a hand through his hair as he spoke. "But I feel I have a responsibility to speak up. Not just for my own sake, but for Elara's. She needs help, and sometimes the people we love need us to be honest about their struggles, even when it's painful.""You and Dr. Vance were in a relationship f

The Starlight Motel on the edge of downtown cost fifty-eight dollars a night. The room smelled of stale cigarette smoke, institutional bleach, and the lingering scent of desperation. The carpet was a tapestry of ancient stains, and the brown bedspread looked like it had not been laundered since the last presidential election. ​Elara locked the door with a loud, final click and leaned her forehead against the wood. “​I guess this is what I've been reduced to,” she whispered to the peeling paint. “Scrimping on money for a sanctuary of grime while Marcus enjoys the luxury of our apartment. No, his apartment now. I suppose the restraining order made that very clear.” ​She sat on the edge of the bed, the cheap mattress springs groaning in a sharp, metallic protest. She pulled her phone from her pocket, her thumb hovering over the glass as the screen lit up. ​You look pathetic in those videos. Crazy bitch. Get help. She deleted them without reading past the first few words, the dig

Elara walked for hours. Her feet blistered inside her heels, the ones she'd bought to match the emerald dress that was now stained with rain and humiliation. She’d changed into jeans and a sweater from the storage facility, but she still felt exposed. Like everyone who passed her on the street knew exactly who she was. The disgraced scientist. The crazy woman from the videos. By noon, she found herself outside the Aethelgard Pharmaceuticals building. Forty-three stories of steel and glass rising into the cloudy sky. She’d worked on the twenty-seventh floor for three years. Security was stationed at the entrance. She recognized Michael, the day guard who’d always smiled at her when she arrived early for lab work. She walked up to the door, only for Michael’s hand to block her path. “Sorry, but I can't allow you in, your credentials have been revoked so I can't let you past the lobby," he apologized, his expression sympathetic but firm "Michael please, I have a hearing tomorrow

Elara spent the night on a bench in Riverside Park. She couldn't afford a hotel. Her credit cards had been declined when she tried, frozen probably, pending some kind of fraud investigation Marcus had no doubt initiated. When dawn broke gray and cold over the city, she walked to the nearest coffee shop. She used the last of her cash to buy a small black coffee and sat in the corner booth with her phone. The news had exploded overnight. "Disgraced Scientist's Meltdown at Golden Gala" was trending on three different platforms. The videos had been viewed millions of times. Someone had created a hashtag: #AethelgardMeltdown. She scrolled through the coverage with a kind of detached horror. Then she saw it. A new article, posted two hours ago. "Medical Records Reveal Troubled History of Researcher Who Disrupted Gala." A low, involuntary sound, a ragged gasp, escaped her. Her hands went numb. She clicked the link. The article, loaded with images of medical documents, patient recor

The security guards released Elara in the hotel corridor. Rain hammered against the tall windows at the far end of the hall. She stood there, breathing hard, her carefully styled hair coming loose from its pins. "You need to leave the premises, ma'am," one of the guards said. His voice wasn't unkind, but it was firm. "I need to go back in there," Elara said. "I need to explain—" "That's not going to happen." She looked at the closed ballroom doors. Through the wood, she could hear the murmur of resumed conversation. The gala was continuing without her. Like she'd never been there at all. Her hands shook as she pulled out her phone. She scrolled through her contacts until she found Dr. Helena Moss, her former mentor from graduate school. Helena would listen to her. She’d surely defend her. The call went to voicemail. Elara tried again. Voicemail. She called James Chen, a colleague from the lab. Voicemail. She went through her contact list, calling everyone she could think o

The Grand Ballroom at the Celestine Hotel was packed wall to wall with the best minds in pharmaceutical research. Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting warm light across round tables draped in white linen. Elara Vance sat at table twelve, her hands folded in her lap beneath the tablecloth where no one could see them shake. She wore a silk emerald dress that she had bought three weeks ago specifically for tonight. Tonight, when they would announce the lead scientist behind the Aethelgard Formula. Tonight, when three years of her life would finally mean something. "Ladies and gentlemen," the MC said from the stage, his voice booming through the sound system. "It is my distinct honor to present this year's Golden Gala Award for Excellence in Pharmaceutical Innovation." Elara's heart hammered against her ribs. She gripped the edge of the table. "The lead scientist behind the groundbreaking Aethelgard Formula, which promises to revolutionize the treatment of degen