He Was But A Failed Detour

There was an unwritten rule in academic circles: the doors of top-tier research institutes did not open for the nameless.

Yet Rick Allen—hailed as a living legend in the medical world—had gone into an impoverished mountain ravine and unearthed Beth Chalke.

For the sake of her astonishing talent, he defied his father, the institute's chairman. He rejected a prearranged academic marriage and personally guided her through experiments, revised her papers, and worked alongside her day and night. Almost hand in hand, he polished her from a rough, uncut stone into a masterpiece capable of stunning the world.

He once smiled and told her, "Beth, don't be afraid. You have me. Your talent deserves the very best."

Eventually, the Allen family relented.

They allowed him to keep Beth—but the institute's Chief Young Scientist had to be Summer Belden, an heiress from a medical family who was a perfect match for the Allens.

From that moment on, the words Rick said most often to Beth were, "Just wait a little longer."

The first time, he asked her to wait while a paper good enough for Cell was published under Summer's name.

He said, "With Summer's family background, we can secure the most critical Phase II research funding."

The second time, he asked her to wait again, packaging the research she had spent three years developing as Summer's signature work, smoothing her path to major international awards.

He said, "Beth, we have to think big. Once the institute is fully stabilized, the next Nobel Prize—I'll personally push you forward."

Just when Beth thought she had finally endured to the end, the paper Summer had published—written in truth by Beth—was suddenly exposed for data fabrication, sending shockwaves through the international academic community.

Everyone reached the same verdict: Beth, a core member of the project, had maliciously tampered with the data in order to steal credit.

Summer rushed over at once, crying, tears clinging to her lashes.

"Beth, I know you've suffered, but how could you destroy all our hard work this way?!"

Rick's father called soon after, his voice trembling with barely contained fury.

"The Allen family's reputation—the institute's honor—has all been ruined by a woman of unknown origins like you!"

When Beth was stripped of all access and locked inside the institute's fully transparent records room, Rick stood just outside the door.

Separated by a sheet of cold glass, she watched the ember of his cigarette flare and fade between his fingers. Those eyes that had once held starlight now contained only restrained irritation and an icy appraisal.

"I told you to be patient," he said, crushing out the cigarette. His voice was heavy with disappointment. "Why did you touch that data? You destroyed my entire plan."

His plan.

Beth doubled over in pain, her heart clenched tight as if seized by an invisible hand.

And suddenly, she remembered—

How he had stood in a raging storm, shielding her when other mentors pushed her aside, saying, "Beth, in this world, I recognize only your talent."

How he had pointed to the night sky when she was on the verge of giving up, pressing his forehead to hers. He had said, "Beth, do you see that star? One day, I'll hang a research achievement named after you up there."

After moments of intimacy, he had kissed her fingertips and promised, "Beth, wait a little longer. Soon, the whole world will know your name."

But now, he stood on Summer's side. With everyone else, he judged her supposed crimes. The way he looked at her was the way one looked at an ambitious academic fraud.

When the archives room door opened again, Beth dug her icy fingers into her palm until deep, bloody marks appeared.

This time, she wouldn't wait any longer.

…

Beth dialed the number of an elderly professor overseas.

"I'm ready, Professor," she said, her voice terrifyingly calm. "I have the complete and untainted original data. I'd like to apply for a visiting scholar position under you."