The grand ballroom of the Beverly Hills Hotel glittered with the crème de la crème of the tech and pharmaceutical worlds. Chandeliers dripped crystal, reflecting off polished marble floors. A symphony orchestra played softly in the background, a luxurious hum to the murmur of polite conversation. Graham, resplendent in a tailored suit, held my arm with a possessive grip, a false smile plastered on his face.

We hadn't been in the room for five minutes when a distinguished-looking man, his silver hair impeccably styled, approached us. "Elise Morton! My dear, it's been too long!" he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with genuine warmth. "I heard you stepped back from the foundation's direct research. A great loss to the field, I must say. Your work on cellular regeneration was revolutionary."

My heart gave a tiny lurch. Dr. Harrison. A former colleague, oblivious to my assumed identity as a "graduate student." Graham stiffened beside me, his grip tightening.

"Dr. Harrison," I replied, forcing a polite smile. "It's good to see you."

"Such promising research," Dr. Harrison continued, shaking his head. "To think, before you stepped away, you were on the cusp of something truly groundbreaking. The youngest lead researcher at the Morton Institute, if I recall correctly. So much talent, sacrificed for... well, for whatever this is." His gaze swept over Graham, a hint of disapproval in his eyes.

Graham's face was a mask of irritation, quickly concealed. He cleared his throat. "Elise has been very busy with her own studies, Dr. Harrison."

Dr. Harrison merely hummed, a knowing twinkle in his eyes, then moved on to greet other guests. Graham shot me a furious look. "What was that all about? Youngest lead researcher? Morton Institute? What lies have you been spinning, Elise?"

Before I could answer, a hush fell over the room. All eyes turned to the grand staircase. Keeley Nguyen descended, a vision in a shimmering silver gown, her hair perfectly coiffed, her smile dazzling. She looked like a Grecian goddess, radiant and confident. It was the dress Graham had bought for me last Christmas, the one I had deemed "too extravagant." She looked exactly like I would have, if I hadn't chosen to hide myself.

My mind flashed back to a year ago, Christmas Eve. Graham had presented the gown to me, his eyes alight with expectation. "This will be perfect for our anniversary gala, Elise," he'd said, his voice filled with pride. "You'll be the most beautiful woman there." I had smiled, touched by his gesture, and carefully put the dress away, opting for a simpler, less ostentatious outfit. Now, seeing Keeley in it, basking in the glow of Graham's adoring gaze, the irony was a bitter pill.

Graham, oblivious to my internal turmoil, watched Keeley descend, his eyes shining with open admiration. He squeezed my arm. "Look at her, Elise. Isn't she magnificent? She truly knows how to command a room." He pulled me along, moving towards the stage where a podium and microphones were set up.

"By the way," he whispered, a triumphant smirk on his face. "I've made some special arrangements for our anniversary next week. A surprise, my love. Just for us." He leaned closer. "And Keeley, being the brilliant mind she is, will be joining the research team to implement some of her revolutionary findings. I'm going to announce it tonight. Isn't that fantastic?"

"Fantastic," I echoed, my voice flat. My heart felt like a shriveled prune in my chest. He was announcing her as part of my team. In my institute.

Graham missed the sarcasm entirely. He just beamed, looking at me with a kind of possessive pride that made my skin crawl. "Good. I knew you'd understand. She's a visionary, Elise. You two will get along famously."

I didn't answer. The words felt like a physical weight, pressing me down. He expected me to welcome the woman who had stolen my husband, who had attacked me, who had boasted about ruining my career, into my professional sanctuary. The audacity was truly boundless.

Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain ripped through my lower abdomen. My breath hitched. My vision swam. The glittering ballroom blurred around me.

"Elise?" Graham's voice was distant, muffled.

My knees buckled. I felt myself falling, a helpless tumble into darkness. The last thing I heard before the world went black was the muffled sounds of the orchestra, the shocked gasps of the crowd, and the piercing wail of a distant siren.

Just then, the grand doors of the ballroom burst open. A phalanx of uniformed officers streamed in, their presence an immediate, jarring disruption to the elegant affair. All eyes, which had been on my crumpled form, now shifted to the new arrivals.

The officers marched directly towards Keeley, who stood by the podium, looking utterly bewildered. Her face, moments ago radiant, paled dramatically. She looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"Keeley Nguyen," one of the officers stated, his voice calm but firm. "You are under arrest for fraud, intellectual property theft, and corporate espionage."

Keeley gasped, her eyes wide with terror. She instinctively turned to Graham, her hand reaching out for him, her lips forming a silent plea. Graham, for his part, looked completely stunned, his face a mixture of shock and disbelief.

I lay on the cold marble floor, my body wracked with pain, my consciousness fading. My vision flickered, blurring at the edges. I could see Graham, a silhouette against the bright lights, his back to me. He was rushing towards Keeley, his arms outstretched.

"Graham," I whispered, my voice a raw, desperate plea. My hand, seeking comfort, stretched out towards him. "Graham, please..."

He was there, comforting Keeley, murmuring reassurances. He turned, blocking her from the officers, shielding her with his body. And then, he took a step back, his foot landing squarely on my outstretched hand. A sickening crack.

A scream tore from my throat, raw and agonizing. My hand, already throbbing, now felt like it was on fire. The pain was unbearable, a white-hot agony that consumed everything. I tried to lift it, to pull it away, but my muscles refused to obey. The bone was definitely broken.

I looked at Graham, his back still turned, his attention solely on Keeley. He hadn't even noticed. My hope, the last fragile ember of it, flickered and died. He truly didn't care. Not about me. Not about us. He would always choose her.

Days later, I lay in a hospital bed, the sterile white ceiling a familiar enemy. My wrist was encased in a heavy cast, the pain a dull ache that mirrored the emptiness in my heart. A laptop hummed on the bedside table, its screen alight with complex data. I was back to work, even from here. There was nothing else to do. Nothing else to feel.

Dr. Chen, my old mentor, now my assistant, stood beside the bed, his face grim. "Elise, we have a problem. The data... it's been tampered with. Maliciously. It'll take weeks, maybe months, to untangle it all." His voice was low, filled with concern. "And Graham... his condition is progressing faster than we anticipated. Without the corrected gene therapy, he won't have much time left."

Just then, the door to my room burst open. Graham stormed in, his face a thundercloud of fury. He snatched the laptop from my bed, sending it crashing to the floor. Papers fluttered everywhere, one landing squarely on my face.

"Sign this!" he roared, thrusting a document at me. "And record a video, right now! Denouncing Keeley, taking all the blame, clearing her name!"

I looked at the document, then at him. My gaze was calm, unwavering. "I'm divorcing you, Graham," I said, my voice quiet, surprisingly steady.

He stared at me, then laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "Divorce? You think you can just walk away? You think you're getting a penny from me? You'll sign this, or you'll regret it." He pointed at the document. "Sign it, Elise. Or I'll make sure you leave here with nothing. Not even your precious reputation."

"No," I replied, my voice firm.

He scoffed. "Still playing the martyr? Fine. Then tell me, Elise. You're so smart, so righteous. Why is Keeley's name linked to all these charges? Why is there a warrant out for her arrest? What did you do?"

"Ask Keeley," I said, my voice chillingly calm. "Ask her about the data she changed. The data for your cure. The data that could kill you."

His face paled. "What are you talking about?"

"The gene therapy, Graham," I continued, my voice gaining strength. "The one that's supposed to save your life. It's been compromised. And you, in your infinite wisdom, signed off on using her corrupted data."

His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed into a furious glare. "You're threatening me, Elise? You're playing games with my life?"

"I'm merely stating a fact," I said, meeting his gaze. "A fact you chose to ignore, because you were too busy worshipping a lie."

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a visceral disgust. "You're a monster, Elise. A cold, calculating monster." He turned to leave, his footsteps heavy.

"Graham," I called out, my voice stopping him at the door. "Do you remember the night of the fire? In the lab? When you thought you rescued Keeley?"

He paused, his back to me. A flicker of something, a shadow of an emotion, crossed his rigid shoulders.

"You told me you couldn't live without me," I whispered, the words heavy with memory, with pain. "You said I was different. Special."

He stood there for a long moment, unmoving. Then, a shudder ran through his body. He turned, his eyes cold, his lips curled in a contemptuous sneer. "You know, Elise," he said, his voice dripping with venom. "You're nothing like Keeley. She' s brilliant, passionate, and real. You're just... a pale imitation. A poor substitute."

He slammed the door shut, the sound echoing through the room.

Around midnight, a piercing crash of glass shattered the uneasy silence. I jolted awake, my heart leaping into my throat. Shouts and angry curses erupted from outside my room, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. My hand flew to the bedside table, fumbling for my new phone.

The screen lit up, displaying a flurry of notifications. Trending topics. My eyes scanned the headlines, and my blood ran cold. A video. Graham.

He stood beside Keeley, his arm protectively around her, his face a mask of solemn concern. "I want to set the record straight," he said, his voice smooth and controlled, radiating sincerity. "Keeley is innocent. These vicious attacks are baseless. They are the work of a disgruntled ex-wife, Elise Morton, who has been intentionally sabotaging my company and my reputation."

My breath hitched. He was twisting everything. Blatantly lying.

"She recorded me, yes," he continued, looking directly into the camera, his eyes filled with feigned regret. "But it was a manipulated recording. Edited to paint Keeley in a false light. Elise has been obsessed with me, unable to accept our separation. She even fabricated a pregnancy to try and tie me down."

My vision blurred. Fabricated a pregnancy? He was denying our child. The child I had lost.

"Our marriage," he concluded, his voice heavy with false sorrow, "was a mistake. A calculated deception on her part. She pursued me, manipulated me, and now that things are not going her way, she's lashing out. I'm filing for annulment, citing fraud and emotional distress. I assure you, I am doing everything in my power to protect my innocent new wife, Keeley, and my company from this... venomous woman."

The screen showed comments pouring in, a flood of vitriol. My name was being dragged through the mud, my very existence reduced to a series of malicious lies. My heart, already shattered, felt like it was being ripped apart. The pain was physical, tangible.

The door to my room splintered open, kicked in with brutal force. Two large men in dark suits stormed in, their faces grim. They grabbed my arms, dragging me from the bed, ignoring my cries of pain. I was thrown into the hallway, my body hitting the cold floor with a sickening crunch.

Keeley stood at the end of the corridor, a triumphant smile gracing her lips. Her eyes glittered with malicious glee as she watched them drag me away.

"You know, Elise," she purred, her voice sweet and venomous. "Graham only married you because you looked so much like me. You were just a placeholder. And now, you're not even that." She gestured to the men. "Make sure she can never look like me again. Get rid of everything that made her resemble me. Especially that hair. And those eyes. Make them forget her face."

My body was slammed against the wall, my head forced back. I could feel the cold glint of metal against my scalp, the sharp tug of pain as my hair was roughly shorn. My ears rang with the sound of laughter. I didn't scream. I didn't cry. My eyes, open and unblinking, stared into the abyss. Blood trickled down my face, but I felt nothing. Just a vast, echoing emptiness.

Later, I managed to crawl back to my room, my body aching, my spirit broken. My ravaged reflection stared back from the shattered mirror. I picked up my phone, my fingers trembling as I dialed Graham's number.

"Graham," I said, my voice a hollow whisper. "I'm having a small event at the institute next week. A final presentation for the research team. I thought you might want to attend. For old times' sake."

There was a long pause. "An event?" he scoffed, his voice dismissive. "What kind of event could you possibly be hosting?"

"A scientific one," I replied, my voice devoid of emotion. "It concerns your cure. And your future."

Another pause. "Fine," he finally said, a hint of curiosity in his tone. "I'll be there. But don't think this changes anything, Elise. Don't think you can still manipulate me."

I hung up, a chilling smile touching my ruined lips. He would be there. And he would finally see.

I pushed myself mercilessly. Days blurred into nights, fueled by black coffee and a grim determination. My team, a dedicated group of scientists who believed in my vision, worked alongside me, correcting the sabotaged data, re-running simulations, and meticulously verifying every single parameter. My body ached, my eyes burned, but my mind was sharper than ever. Nothing else mattered now. Only the data. Only the truth.

During a rare break, I reached out to my contacts at the academic institutions Keeley had proudly listed on her fabricated resume. A series of cold, precise inquiries. The answers confirmed my suspicions: Keeley Nguyen had never been employed, or even enrolled, in any of the prestigious programs she claimed. My sister, with her vast network and legal team, had already compiled a devastating dossier on Keeley's true background: a string of academic misconducts, a dropped out PhD program, and a history of self-promotion built on elaborate lies. Her "prodigy scientist" persona was nothing but a carefully constructed house of cards.

My lead researcher, Dr. Chen, approached me, his face etched with worry. "Elise," he said, his voice low. "The deadline for the public presentation is approaching. The data is stable, yes, but we still have so many unanswered questions. And Graham's condition... it's deteriorating rapidly. The gene therapy needs to be implemented soon, or it might be too late."

I looked at him, my eyes hard. "It will be ready, Dr. Chen. And it will be perfect." I paused, then continued, "But we will present it differently. We will expose the truth. All of it."

Dr. Chen' s eyes widened. "Elise, are you sure? This could be a huge scandal for the institute."

"The truth always comes out," I replied, my voice cold. "And it's time for Graham to choose. He can either acknowledge the truth and use the correct data, or he can continue to live his lie. His life depends on it."

An hour before the presentation, I made two calls. The first was to Graham.

"Graham," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "The presentation is about to begin. Don't be late."

He grunted something in response, a mix of annoyance and vague curiosity. I hung up.

The second call was to Corbett. "Book my flight," I commanded, my voice brisk. "For tonight. After the presentation. And tell the family to prepare the annulment papers. This ends tonight. All of it."

"Are you sure, Elise?" Corbett asked, his voice laced with concern. "You don't have to push yourself like this."

"I'm sure," I replied, my gaze fixed on the bustling preparations around me. "It's long overdue."

Graham arrived exactly on time, striding into the auditorium with an air of arrogant confidence. He wore a crisp suit, his expression aloof. He spotted me on stage, a faint surprise in his eyes. He made his way to the front row, Keeley trailing behind him, her arm linked possessively with his. She, too, looked stunning, her fake academic persona radiating an air of intellectual superiority.

He pulled out a small, intricately carved wooden box. "Elise," he said, holding it out to me. "Our anniversary gift. I had it specially commissioned. It's a replica of the first lab you ever worked in. A symbol of our shared journey."

I looked at the box, then at his face. He was smiling, a triumphant glint in his eyes. He still thought he had me fooled.

"Oh, and you know," he continued, glancing at Keeley with a smirk, "Keeley has graciously agreed to join our presentation tonight. She's going to share some of her brilliant insights into the gene therapy. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Wonderful," I repeated, my voice flat. I took the box, my fingers brushing his. He leaned in, attempting to kiss my cheek, but I subtly turned my head, his lips brushing only air. He didn't seem to notice. He just chuckled, a smug satisfaction in his eyes.

"Good. I knew you'd come around. After all, you always listen to me, don't you, my little scientist?" He squeezed my hand, then went to sit beside Keeley, whispering conspiratorially in her ear.

I watched them, a profound sense of calm washing over me. There was no anger left, no bitterness. Only a cold, clear resolve. The stage lights were hot, the audience a sea of faces. I walked to the podium, my steps steady, my gaze unwavering.

"Good evening, everyone," I began, my voice clear and strong, echoing through the packed auditorium. "Tonight, I'm here to discuss the latest advancements in gene therapy for Harvey's Syndrome." I launched into a concise, professional overview of the project, detailing the complex scientific process, the challenges we'd faced, and the breakthroughs we'd achieved.

Suddenly, the large screen behind me, which had been displaying complex scientific diagrams, flashed. A new image appeared: a side-by-side comparison of two sets of data. One, meticulously annotated and verified, was ours. The other, filled with subtle yet critical discrepancies, was the one Keeley had tampered with.

A ripple went through the audience. Graham, in the front row, stiffened. Keeley's face went white.

"As you can see," I continued, my voice unwavering, "there has been a deliberate, malicious attempt to corrupt our core data. These falsifications, if implemented, would not only render the gene therapy ineffective but could also have catastrophic consequences for any patient receiving it." My gaze, cold and steady, landed directly on Keeley. "I believe the individual responsible for this sabotage is present in this room. And I demand that she immediately surrender the original, uncorrupted data. Lives depend on it."

Keeley froze, her eyes wide with terror. She tried to stammer a denial, "No... I... I just corrected some minor errors... it was for the good of the project..."

"Errors?" I cut her off, my voice sharp. "Or deliberate falsification to cover up your own incompetence? To steal credit for work you are incapable of performing?"

"She's lying!" Keeley shrieked, her voice cracking. She pointed a trembling finger at me. "She's trying to sabotage me! She's jealous of my success! She wants Graham dead!"

Graham' s brows furrowed. His gaze, filled with confusion and disappointment, met mine. "Elise," he said, his voice low, a plea for explanation. "What is all this? Are you really trying to hurt Keeley? Hurt me?"

I looked at him, truly looked at him, standing there, clinging to the lies. "Graham," I said, my voice echoing in the silent room. "Whose truth do you choose to believe? The one that could save your life, or the one that will destroy it?"

He hesitated, his eyes darting between me and Keeley. Then, he turned to Keeley, taking her hand. "I believe Keeley," he said, his voice firm, resolute. "She's a brilliant scientist. She would never do anything to harm my research. You, Elise, are just jealous. You're upset because she's better than you."

My heart, which I thought had already turned to stone, felt a final, agonizing crack. Better than me. He still thought that. I felt nothing. No anger, no sadness. Just a profound, liberating emptiness.

I looked at him, then at Keeley, clinging to him like a parasite. I turned away, the microphone clicking as I set it down. My work here was done. I had presented the truth. The choice was his.

I walked off the stage, my steps steady, my head held high. I didn't look back.

Corbett was waiting for me at the back of the auditorium, his face grim. He took my arm, his grip firm and reassuring. We walked out of the ballroom, leaving the stunned silence, the whispered accusations, and the shattered pieces of my past behind.

A week later, Graham stood in the opulent suite of the Ritz Carlton, meticulously arranging rose petals on the bed. He checked his phone for the tenth time, a frown deepening on his face. No reply from Elise. He' d sent her a flurry of messages, a mix of accusations and veiled pleas.

`Graham: Still sulking, Elise? Keeley' s data was a minor adjustment. Nothing to worry about. You' re overreacting. Come to the Ritz. I have a surprise for you.`

`Graham: I know you' re trying to make me jealous. It' s working. But you' re being ridiculous. Keeley knows her stuff. She' s a genius.`

`Graham: Come to the Ritz, Elise. We can talk about this. I have a special night planned for us. Just like old times.`

He put his phone down, a smug smile spreading across his face. He' d meticulously edited a short video montage, a collection of their "happy memories" together. Our wedding. Anniversaries. Holidays. He watched it, a sentimental sigh escaping his lips. He thought of Elise seeing it, her eyes filling with tears, her heart melting. She would cave. She always did. He laughed, imagining her walking through the door, ready to apologize, ready to beg for his forgiveness.

The hours ticked by. Elise didn't show. Graham's confidence slowly eroded, replaced by a gnawing anxiety. He tried calling her, but her phone went straight to voicemail. Pacing the suite, he finally snatched his keys. He would go to the lab. He would find her.

He burst into the dimly lit research institute, the silence a stark contrast to the buzzing energy he expected. The labs were empty. Elise' s office was dark. Her personal effects, once neatly arranged, were gone. A cold dread seeped into his bones.

He found one of the junior researchers still packing up some equipment. "Where's Elise?" Graham demanded, his voice tight with desperation. "Where is everyone?"

The researcher looked up, his eyes wide. "Dr. Morton? Oh, she... she accepted an international fellowship. She left this afternoon. Took all her personal research with her." He hesitated, then added, "She's become the youngest director of a new, highly funded institute overseas. Didn't you know? She's quite the legend in the field, even her former professor, Dr. Chen, praises her as a genius."

Graham stared, his mind reeling. Dr. Morton? Youngest director? Overseas? The words hit him like a physical blow, shattering his carefully constructed reality.

"Dr. Morton?" Graham scoffed, a strangled laugh escaping his throat. "You're delusional. Elise is a graduate student. She couldn't be a director, or a Dr. Morton, or whatever you're rambling about. You've clearly been paid off by her manipulative family. Tell her the charade is over. Tell her to stop this ridiculous game."

The researcher looked at him with pity, then a flicker of defiance. "Mr. Harvey, with all due respect, Dr. Morton left a message for you. She said... she said to tell you that sometimes, the most dangerous lies are the ones you tell yourself."

Graham' s face twisted in a mixture of confusion and growing fury. "Lies? What lies? She's the one who's been lying! What does she have against Keeley? Why does she always have to make everything about herself?" He paced the empty lab, his anger simmering. "She's just jealous, isn't she? Jealous of Keeley's talent, her beauty, her success. And she's dragging you all into her pathetic little drama!"

He pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen. `Graham: This has gone too far, Elise. You think I don't know you're behind this? I'm warning you. If you don't show up, if you don't stop this, you'll regret it. I will show you no mercy.`

He stormed out of the lab, almost colliding with Keeley. She stood by the entrance, her eyes fixed on the staff directory board, her face utterly devoid of color. On the board, under the "Directors" section, a photo of Elise, listed as "Dr. Elise Morton, Director of Research and Innovation."

Keeley hastily pulled down the board, her hands trembling. She grabbed Graham's arm, forcing a brittle smile. "Graham, darling! What are you doing here? I thought you were waiting for Elise at the hotel." She tried to lead him away, her voice light, but her eyes were wide with panic. The image of Elise, so composed, so powerful, had been burned into her mind.

Elise Morton. Director. The youngest in the institute' s history. The words echoed in Keeley's mind, a chilling whisper. She had always dismissed Elise as a weak, unassuming woman. A substitute. A pawn. But a director? A Morton? The implications were terrifying. She tightened her grip on Graham' s arm, pulling him faster. She couldn't let him see. She couldn't let him know. Not yet.

She remembered fleeing the country years ago, after her academic fraud had been exposed. Graham, so smitten, had funded her "research" abroad, oblivious to the truth. She remembered painstakingly crafting her new persona: the prodigy scientist, the groundbreaking researcher. All lies. All to impress him, to cement her place in his life, and in his fortune.

"Did you find Elise?" Keeley asked, forcing a tone of innocent concern.

Graham's face was grim. He tried calling Elise again, but it went straight to voicemail. His frustration mounted.

"Oh, Graham," Keeley said, a tear welling in her eye. "I saw Elise earlier. She was with some man. He was touching her. They looked very... intimate." She squeezed his arm. "I know how much she hurts you, darling. But please, don't let her get to you."

Graham's eyes, dark with rage, snapped to his phone. He stared at the screen, then, with a guttural roar, he hurled the device against the wall. It shattered into pieces. He didn't doubt Keeley for a second. His mind, already poisoned by her lies, latched onto this new accusation. Elise was a cheat. A manipulative, deceitful liar. His last shred of affection for her, buried deep beneath layers of bitterness and betrayal, evaporated.

He pulled Keeley into his arms, holding her tight. "It's okay, my love," he murmured, his voice laced with a possessive fury. "She's nothing. You're everything. You'll start at the institute tomorrow, right? They're so lucky to have you. Your data is going to revolutionize everything."

Keeley's eyes flickered, a momentary flicker of fear in their depths. "Yes, darling. Of course. Tomorrow." She leaned into him, burying her face in his chest. His data. The data she had so carelessly tampered with. She felt a surge of panic.

"You know," Graham continued, a triumphant gleam in his eyes, "I was so worried about my condition, about the cure. But with your genius, Keeley, I know everything will be fine. We'll show Elise what a real scientist can do."

Keeley mumbled a noncommittal response, her mind racing. She had to keep Graham convinced. She had to ensure he never found out the truth about the data.

Just then, the junior researcher from before rushed back, a thick file clutched in his hand. "Mr. Harvey! Are you absolutely sure you want to proceed with the modified data? Dr. Morton specifically warned against it. She said it's incomplete, riddled with errors. She said if used, it could accelerate your condition, not cure it!" He thrust a document at Graham. "She said to give you this. It's a formal waiver. The institute will not be held responsible if you choose to proceed with unverified data."

Graham's face turned beet red. "Don't you dare accuse Keeley of incompetence!" he roared, glaring at the researcher. "You're in league with Elise, aren't you? Trying to sabotage us! I'll have your job! All of you!" He snatched the pen from the researcher's hand and, without a moment's hesitation, scrawled his signature across the waiver.

Keeley, seeing the waiver, felt a jolt of alarm. She grabbed his arm, her eyes wide. "Graham, darling, maybe we should just... double-check? Just to be safe?"

Graham looked at her, his eyes filled with a blind adoration. "Do you think I don't trust you, Keeley? Do you think you would ever lie to me?"

"Of course not!" she protested, her voice laced with false sincerity.

"Then I'm not worried," he declared, his voice ringing with a false conviction. He signed the document with a flourish, then looked at the researcher, a triumphant smirk on his face. "There. Now, get out. And tell Elise that her pathetic attempts to undermine me are over. I'll trust Keeley's data over hers any day."