Chapter 1

When the family dinner broke up, Jasper's new car sat in the courtyard, the red paint gleaming under the lights.

My mother circled it three times with her phone out, pride leaking through every word. "Jasper, when you go out with your friends, don't embarrass this family."

Jasper leaned against the door. "Relax, Mom. I have real connections now."

My father nodded. "It's good for a young man to understand attention. Money that buys connections is never wasted."

I stood by the dining table. The top of my foot was still red from the tea.

The tea was still spreading through the grout lines of the tile.

My mother glanced at it and frowned as she held out a rag. "What are you standing there for? Clean it up."

I didn't take it.

The supplier's payment reminder was still lit on my phone screen.

If the remaining 27,000 dollars is not cleared by midnight tonight, the imported ceramic targets go to the team on the waiting list.

I had waited three months for those materials.

The national competition finals were one prototype assembly away.

Without the targets, a year of data would be downgraded.

I walked over to my father and held out my phone.

"Dad, you can't cancel the card right now."

"The balance has to be paid tonight. The prototype goes in for testing tomorrow."

My father didn't even look at the screen. "That pile of yours isn't something you have to buy."

I swallowed the ache in my throat.

"It's a shielding coating project."

"Professor Harrison says that if I pass the finals, I get into the national lab's training track."

Isadora let out a soft laugh.

"Ophelia, you always make everything sound so dramatic."

"A national lab sounds impressive, and you'd still end up sitting in a basement."

My mother pushed the penthouse floor plan in front of her. "Ignore her. Isadora, look, should we turn the master bedroom into a suite? Mrs. Morgan likes things grand."

Isadora's eyes curved at once. "Lucian says I look good in satin. The lighting in the closet should be softer."

My mother agreed to all of it. "Of course. Lucian Morgan is going to inherit that entire family. I'll find you the best designer there is."

The same 150,000 dollar card.

My sister spent hers on cosmetic work, and that was called refinement.

My brother spent his on a streamer, and that was called investing in connections.

Only when I spent mine on lab materials was it called throwing money away.

I turned back to my father. "I'm only asking you to pay this balance. When the project funding comes through, I'll pay it back."

My father took my card and threw it into a drawer.

The lock clicked shut.

"As of today, your card is cancelled."

He looked at me coldly.

"If you're really so capable, figure it out yourself."

My mother pushed the rag into my hands.

"Wipe the floor first, then go simmer the collagen broth for your sister."

"She's meeting Mrs. Morgan tomorrow. She can't stay up late."

Isadora ran a finger over her new nails.

"Less sugar. Extra collagen."

Jasper added his own order.

"I'm streaming until one. Make me a bowl of pasta."

I looked down at the puddle of tea by my feet. When the boiling water hit me, nobody asked whether it hurt. They only cared whether the floor was clean.

I took the rag and wiped it dry, inch by inch.

My phone buzzed in my pocket until it felt hot.

At exactly midnight, the supplier's message came through.

Order released. Materials being transferred to the waiting team.

I stared at those words and my fingers slowly tightened.

Jasper's impatient voice came from upstairs.

"Hurry up. Is my pasta ready or not?"

I didn't answer. I went back down to the basement, opened my laptop, and dug out the email buried at the bottom of my inbox.

It came from the joint project office of the national laboratory.

Ms. Greene, please confirm the security review agreement for the candidate researcher program within three days. After that it expires.

That afternoon Professor Harrison had told me to think it over.

Once it was signed, the closed review would run at least three months.

No contacting family at will. No leaving at will.

At the time I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Now my mother's voice came down the stairs again. "Ophelia, didn't you hear your brother calling you?"

I looked at the agreement on the screen, and for the first time I didn't go upstairs.