The doors of elite research institutions aren't open to the unknown. But Rick Allen pulled Beth out of nowhere. He poured everything into nurturing her talent and promised her the world.

The Allen family's compromise was simple: the Chief Young Scientist had to be Summer Belden—someone from their own social circle. From that day on, the words Rick said to Beth most often were, "Just wait a little longer."

He told her to wait when her groundbreaking paper was published under Summer's name in exchange for research funding. He told her to wait again when the research she'd perfected over three years was packaged as Summer's signature work, paving the way to major awards. "The bigger picture comes first," he said. "The next Nobel Prize—I'll make sure it's yours."

But when the paper credited to Summer—though written by Beth—was exposed for fabricated data, everyone reached the same conclusion: Beth, as a core member of the project, had tampered with the data to steal the credit.

Locked in a glass-walled archive room, Beth looked at Rick standing outside the door. His gaze was ice-cold, full of disappointment.

"Why did you touch the data?" he said. "You've ruined everything I've built."

She remembered how he once told her, "In this world, yours is the only talent I truly recognize."

He had promised, "I'll make sure achievements with your name hang among the stars."

Now he stood with the others, judging her. He looked at her the way people look at a ruthless, ambitious fraud.

When she was finally released, Beth dug her nails into her palm until blood ran down.

This time, she wouldn't wait any longer.

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."

A voice full of delight came through the line. "Beth! I knew you wouldn't disappoint me! I'll send you the invitation immediately!"

The call ended. Beth stood at the far end of the corridor, her fingertips still trembling.

Not far away, inside an office, Rick was speaking in a low voice to comfort Summer. Summer leaned against him, sobbing as she poured out her fear and grievances.

An academic power couple, fighting side by side—they looked perfectly matched.

Beth stood there, her heart feeling as if it had been soaked in formalin—cold, numb, and lifeless.

"Beth, are you all right?" Summer noticed her first and immediately tightened her grip on Rick's arm.

Almost by reflex, Rick moved Summer behind him.

The wariness in his gaze was like a scalpel, slicing into Beth's heart inch by inch. He was afraid she might hurt the partner he valued most.

The man who once said, "I recognize only your talent," now guarded against her as if she were a corporate spy.

Only after Summer was escorted away by an assistant did Rick walk over. He reached out, as if to touch Beth's shoulder.

"Beth, the situation is very complicated right now. The more trouble you cause, the harsher the board's punishment will be. And we're close to the final results. I don't want any distractions. I'll handle the data issue—why do you have to…"

"I told you there's nothing wrong with the data!" Beth's eyes suddenly reddened.

Rick seemed startled by her intensity. He paused, then softened his tone. "All right, all right. None of that matters anymore."

Doesn't matter anymore.

Those words were like poisoned needles, piercing her already shattered heart.

He still didn't believe her.

Seeing the stalemate, he reached into his pocket and took out a velvet box, handing it to her.

"This—you've always wanted it."

Beth's pupils shrank. She opened the box. Inside lay an exquisitely designed fountain pen, a tiny star engraved on its barrel.

It was the limited-edition commemorative pen of her most admired, late Nobel laureate—only ten existed in the world.

"You gave it to Summer!" Her voice trembled. "I saw it—in the pen holder in her office!"

"Summer liked it, so I gave it to her first." Rick frowned and grabbed her hand. "Consider it an apology to me for the trouble you caused this time."

"That pen is my entire faith in academic pursuit!" Beth was on the verge of collapse. "How could you treat it like something you can casually give away? You know how important it is to me!"

She reached out to snatch it back, but Rick suddenly clamped down on her wrist and flung her aside.

"Beth!" he shouted her full name for the first time, his eyes terrifyingly cold. "It's just a dead object. Is it more important than the reputation of our entire institute? Have you not made enough of a scene?!"

He used too much force. Beth was thrown hard to the side, stumbling into a nearby lab bench.

Her waist slammed into the sharp edge of the cold metal. The pain nearly made her black out.

But Rick only cast her a cold glance before turning away.

"I'll take care of the data problem," he said, his retreating figure resolute and icy. "You—calm down and stop causing trouble for me."

The door slammed shut.

…

When Rick stormed out, Beth was still slumped on the floor, the searing pain in her side stealing her breath.

She stared at the tightly closed door—so decisive, so cold, without the slightest hesitation.

In her agony, she suddenly remembered that he used to worry about her like this, too.

Once, when she cut her finger on a shattered test tube in the lab and a bead of blood welled up, his eyes had reddened with distress. He carried her to the infirmary himself, his hands shaking the entire way.

The doctor said with a helpless smile that it was only a superficial injury, but he insisted on a tetanus shot anyway, terrified that she might get an infection.

And now—

Beth lowered her head and looked at her pale fingertips. Suddenly, she laughed.

She laughed and laughed, until tears came crashing down.

Leaning against the wall, she dragged herself back to the dorm, limping the entire way.

The pain in her waist grew sharper by the minute. Dizzy and barely able to stand, she pulled out her phone to call a car to the hospital—when someone suddenly seized her wrist from behind with brutal force.

"Beth!" Rick's voice was tightly restrained with fury. "Summer fainted from anger because of you, and you still won't let it go? Hiding here, playing dead?"

She turned and met his tightly furrowed brows and the chill in his eyes.

He was dressed in a white lab coat, as aloof and refined as ever. Only now, his body carried the scent of the perfume Summer always wore—cloying and nauseating.

"I need to go to the hospital…" Her voice was so soft it was nearly inaudible.

Slowly, she lifted her hand, pulled aside the hem of her clothes, and pointed to the vicious bruise on her waist.

"I'm hurt too."

Rick froze. Only then did he notice her deathly pale face and the fine beads of cold sweat on her forehead.

"You said that once the final results came out, you would clear my name." Beth looked at him, her eyes rimmed red. "But now, can you still see me at all?"

His brow furrowed even deeper. He reached out, as if to touch the bruise. "What happened?"

"You pushed me," she said calmly. "I hit the lab bench."

Rick's pupils contracted, as if the scene finally came back to him.

Most of his anger dissipated at once. He pulled her into his arms.

"Beth, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I was just afraid something would happen to Summer. She's the face of the entire project right now. If she collapses, all our previous efforts will be wasted…"

Beth let him hold her, her gaze hollow, like a deep, dried-up well.

She had heard these words too many times before.

"I understand." She pushed him away. "Go check on her."

She turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist again.

"Beth, no matter what, you have to believe that you're the only one in my heart. Everything I've done has been for us—to secure an academic position that no one can shake."

He gently stroked her hair, his voice tender as poison. "I'll have my assistant take you to the hospital. I need to go calm the board right now."

With that, he let go and hurried off, his retreating figure edged with anxiety.

Beth stood where she was, watching his tall silhouette fade into the distance.

She suddenly laughed, laughing until tears fell.

"I don't believe you anymore…" she whispered. "Rick—not a single word you say."

…

Over the next few days, Beth saw almost daily updates on the institute's internal network about Rick and Summer "fighting side by side."

In the photos, Rick bent his head, patiently guiding Summer, his expression focused. She stood close beside him, smiling with confidence and sweetness.

Her fingertips trembled as she swiped through them, one by one.

There were photos of him staying late into the night with Summer in a conference room, forcefully rebutting dissent. Photos of him personally clearing up the so-called "data controversy" for her. Photos of him praising her in front of all the researchers, calling her "possessed of the keenest academic intuition."

With every image, it felt as though a dull blade sliced into her heart.

And yet, as the pain continued, she realized she could no longer feel it.

Perhaps her heart had already died the moment he pushed her away for Summer.

Just as she was about to mute all the notifications, her phone vibrated again.

It was an email from the International Association for Medical Applications.

She opened it, and what she saw stole her breath away.