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Chapter 3

Autor: Crayon 7
On the third night, I had just finished the recovery run when a ring light flared at the basement door.

Jasper came in with three friends.

He held up a selfie stick, his voice bright with excitement.

"Hey everybody, today I'm taking you inside my sister's secret research base."

The door had been left open to air the samples out, and I hadn't gotten around to locking it.

The camera swept across my bench.

Comments scrolled up fast.

Rich girl's alchemy workshop?

Jasper, your sister has zero style.

I set down the pipette and spoke coldly.

"Get out."

Jasper shrugged at the camera.

"See that? Big degree, bigger temper."

One of his friends picked up a sealed bag.

"What's in this? Powder?"

I moved fast and took it back.

"Don't touch that. It's logged."

Jasper laughed and told him to behave, but his hand plugged the ring light into the outlet beside the incubator.

My face changed.

"Don't touch that plug."

It was already too late.

The incubator's power was pulled.

The display went black.

The coating samples inside had just held steady for forty-eight hours, and the temperature curve broke in an instant.

I ran over and plugged it back in.

The alarm shrieked.

Jasper covered his ears.

"That's deafening. Can you shut that stupid box off?"

I looked at the failure notice and my fingers shook.

"You destroyed my samples for the finals."

Jasper frowned, annoyed.

"So make more. Do you know how many people were watching my stream just now? Fifty thousand."

I looked up at him.

"That was the last batch."

One of his friends was still laughing.

"It's not your last breath."

I reached over and killed the stream.

Jasper's face changed instantly.

"Ophelia, what is wrong with you? My top donor just came in."

He lunged for the phone.

I stepped back and hit my elbow on the metal cabinet. Half my arm went numb with pain.

The stream hadn't fully closed.

The camera lay tilted on the floor, and it caught Jasper's hand shoving me.

Fast footsteps came from upstairs.

My father reached the basement first.

What he saw was not my injury, and not the incubator screaming its alarm.

It was Jasper's blacked-out screen.

"What are you throwing a fit about now? You interrupted your brother's broadcast."

I pointed at the incubator.

"He pulled the power. The samples are ruined."

My father glanced at it.

"Then they're ruined."

I stood there, stunned.

My mother ran down and went straight for Jasper's arm.

"Jasper, are you hurt?"

Jasper held up his phone, wounded.

"Mom, she shut down my stream. That was my biggest moment yet."

My mother turned and glared at me.

"Your brother's career is just getting started. Can you really not stand to see him do well?"

I lifted my bleeding elbow.

"He pushed me."

My mother didn't even look.

"And whose fault is that? You cut off his stream."

Isadora stood at the top of the stairs with her arms crossed.

"Ophelia, Jasper was giving you publicity and you're upset about it. You really can't tell kindness from an insult."

I held up the bag of ruined samples.

"Did any of you ask me whether this data is allowed to be public?"

My father's face darkened.

"Don't try to scare us with that. It's a student project. Is it a state secret now?"

Jasper scoffed.

"Sis, stop writing yourself into a drama."

I looked down, saved the screen recording of Jasper's stream, and photographed the whole scene.

Jasper saw what I was doing and reached for the phone.

"What are you recording?"

I turned aside.

My father spoke coldly.

"Delete it. Don't send our dirty laundry out there."

I raised my eyes.

"So now it's dirty laundry?"

The air went still for a second.

My father's hand went up.

Nobody stopped him.

Before the slap landed, I hit send, uploading everything to Professor Harrison and the project office.

The crack of it filled the room.

My cheek went numb.

My father pointed at the door.

"Get upstairs and cook. Isadora hasn't eaten."

I held my face and looked at the wreck of the basement.

This time, I didn't clean it up.

The review form with a shoe print stamped on it and the tissue stained with my blood stayed on the floor exactly where they were.

I had always told myself I could stand it a little longer.

Stand it until graduation.

Stand it until my placement came through.

Stand it until they finally admitted that I was worth loving too.

But in that moment I understood.

It wasn't that they couldn't see what I had done.

They just didn't care.
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