The next day, I visited the lab where the memory chip had been developed.

Its history struck me as deeply ironic. The lead researcher, Kier Long, had once been a struggling student from a working-class background. Alan had rejected his application for sponsorship. At the time, our company had only just found its footing, and we could sponsor only a limited number of students.

Alan had chosen to sponsor Sophia instead, claiming he saw my younger self in her. He had claimed he could not turn his back on that.

I could not bring myself to let Kier's brilliance wither because of the circumstances of his birth, so I funded a research lab out of my own pocket and gave him a chance to build something of his own.

After that incident with Alan, Kier devoted himself to his work with relentless focus. Within a month, he created the memory chip. Meanwhile, Sophia spent that same month trying to get into Alan's pants.

"Ms. DeLisle, the chip will cease to function in less than forty-eight hours. The data I've gathered so far is not promising," Kier said, pushing his glasses up with a worried frown.

He handed me a report. "As I mentioned before, if we force the chip to operate beyond its extended lifespan, it will cause irreparable neural damage to Mr. Faust."

He expected me to panic. He still believed I was the same woman who would trade her soul to the Devil to save Alan's life.

How quaint. I had changed.

"I suppose we'll see what happens," I said, closing the report.

My tone caught him off guard.

"Uh, listen. I have a backup solution to—"

"That won't be necessary." I picked up my purse. "Just store the data."

I did not need to imagine what would happen once the chip began to fail. Alan would fall back into the same reckless patterns as before. This time, I would not follow him into ruin with an equally foolish choice.

Alan called me shortly afterward. He demanded that I attend this year's graduation ceremony at our alma mater, John Goldbook College.

"We've always attended together. I'm not interested in fueling rumors before we're even formally divorced."

Please. He only wanted to protect Sophia's reputation. If she appeared in public with a man who was still very much married, what would people say? She was a lecturer at the college, after all, though she owed that position entirely to Alan.

The problem was that rumors about the two of them had already spread. The gossip had long since taken hold.

Not that I intended to shatter the illusion Alan was trying to maintain. Things could spiral out of control if we were not careful.

…

Sophia was already on campus when I arrived. The moment she saw me, she masked every trace of malice and pressed a hand to her stomach in feigned anxiety. "S-Selena! You're here…"

She always delivered a D-lister's performance when she knew Alan was watching, careful to conceal her true nature. True to form, Alan sided with her every time.

I once told him Sophia had killed the baby by shoving me to the floor. He had accused me of exaggerating to frame her.

Now he stepped in front of her at once, shielding her with his body. "Don't cause a scene, Selena. You're supposed to be educated. Don't forget that."

I pressed my lips together. Another threat. How tiresome.

I pushed past him. "Excuse me. You're in my way."

Alan stared at me, stunned. He had not expected such composure. "Selena, what's—"

"That was all my fault, Selena!" Sophia cut in. "I've prepared a short clip as a surprise for you!"

I had no idea what she meant. The answer came when she took the stage as the emcee.

A video began to play.

She claimed it had been created with the help of generative AI and adapted from a real kidnapping case many years ago.

A young gold-digging woman had been lured abroad under false pretenses. A crime syndicate captured her. They subjected her to relentless abuse. The camera lingered on her face as she screamed, shrieked, and gasped in pain.

The video showed no explicit nudity, yet it horrified the entire hall.

The woman in the footage had my face.

Nebula had only just gone public when Alan was abducted. We could not risk negative coverage, so I kept the press out of it. Then we mobilized our international connections, poured in money, and enlisted help from local agencies.

The ordeal left Alan deeply traumatized. His physical injuries healed over time, but his mind did not. Nothing reached him. He attempted suicide again and again.

After we intervened in yet another attempt, Kier proposed using his experimental memory chip. It could rewrite the memory so nothing could trigger the original events while the chip remained in place.

However, the pain from that experience would still need proper healing so that Alan would no longer try to kill himself once the chip failed.

I had chosen to sacrifice more than I should have. I thought love might cure even this.

I was wrong. Once Alan believed I had endured that torment, he treated me as if I carried every disease in the world. He turned it into a weapon against me.

…

The video ended. Sophia scanned the crowd, yet her gaze lingered on me longer than on anyone else. "You see, just because someone appears alive does not mean they are not dead inside.

"Without dignity, the soul has already died, and all that remains is to cling to someone else like a parasite.

"I hope you all understand this lesson: never trade your dignity for anything. Protect your worth. Treat yourself with respect."

After the ceremony, Sophia returned to Alan. He frowned.

"That was too risky, Sophia," he said, concern edging his voice.

She met his gaze with practiced innocence. "I showed it because I admire Selena's mental strength. I wanted the students to have a strong woman as a role model."

She turned to me, her concern carefully staged. "I prepared that video a long time ago to motivate you, Selena. I want you to step out of that shadow as soon as possible, so you do not have to depend on others anymore."

Alan looked at her with open affection. "You're always too sweet for your own good, Sophia."

Then he fixed me with a pointed look. "She acted out of kindness. Don't put this on her."

I met his gaze with a cold stare. "Did it occur to you what consequences this video might have for me?"

"Who cares?" he snapped. "You can't hide the truth forever. People will find out sooner or later. Besides, Sophia already clarified that it was AI-generated. She didn't even name you. If anyone claims it's you, deny it instead of throwing a tantrum."

So any humiliation I felt was, in his view, self-inflicted.

I smiled. "I see. I hope you still believe that very soon."

He stared at me, baffled, as I walked away.

…

The internet seized on it faster than I expected. The controversy moved with an almost deliberate momentum.

Within an afternoon, my AI-generated likeness had been extracted from the video and inserted into several softcore pornographic clips.

It became a meme template and an emote. People began linking me to the woman in the footage, and sensational headlines soon followed.

I was dogpiled.

[No wonder the lady boss never had kids. A party that wild must have ruined her.]

[I feel bad for Mr. Faust. He's too handsome to have a wife like that.]

[AI? That's just a cover, isn't it? Does she even look tortured? She sounds like she's enjoying it.]

…

The stock market reacted. By the next day, the board of directors had placed me on forced leave.

Alan relayed the decision over the phone as if it were routine business. "You know how hard Nebula worked to get where it is today, Selena. We can't let it collapse because you failed to protect your reputation."

He seemed to have forgotten that none of this would have happened without Sophia.

"But don't worry. As long as you sign the agreement, I'll give you fair compensation."

I tightened my grip on the phone. "You mean you're pushing me out of Nebula under the excuse that I damaged the company's reputation. All this just to force me to sign the divorce papers."

He paused before answering, "It's more complicated than that… Sophia is a little naive and insecure. She can't stand the thought of us still working together. I just want to protect my home."

He had no idea that his ideal home life was running on borrowed time. Ten hours remained before the chip would fail.

Soon after, the media broke news of Alan accompanying Sophia to an OB-GYN for a pregnancy check-up.

Alan did not return home that night.

When the lawyer sent the revised agreement I had requested the other day, he asked whether I wanted to sue everyone slandering me online.

"Yes, but not yet. Let's gather all the evidence and act in a single, concentrated effort."

He then asked about Sophia's baby. "The child will be born out of wedlock, yes, but the law still allows them to inherit from their parents. Do you want to take action on that?"

"No," I said.

That child might as well never have existed. How could it? Alan had been infertile for seven years.

…

Alan's counterattack came later than I expected. More than six hours after the video and its memes had gone viral, he abruptly called a press conference and summoned me to attend.

Under a barrage of flashing cameras and watchful eyes, he pulled Sophia into his arms and announced that we had been discussing divorce for the past six months.

He claimed he had wanted to keep his private life out of the public eye, but after I tried to harm Sophia following the video incident, he could no longer stay silent.

"Sophia Mason was once a working-class student sponsored by my company. She is one of the brightest people I have ever known. Through her own hard work, she became a beloved lecturer at the prestigious John Goldbook College.

"But what moves me most is not her academic success or her extraordinary talent. It is her warmth. Her optimism.

"She helped me recover something I thought I had lost—the ability to feel genuine love. That is why I cannot bear to see her suffer any longer."

Sophia lifted her head from his chest and revealed a faint scar on her face.

She fixed her gaze on me. "How could you do this to me, Selena? You know I'm pregnant with his child. You could have killed us both—no, killed them."

That was all it took. I became public enemy number one.

Alan adopted a look of grave disappointment. "You should understand how much pain that causes. Just because you are hurt does not give you the right to hurt others. I'm sorry, but enough is enough. I cannot allow this to continue."

He displayed a so-called psychological profile on the screen. Every detail served a single purpose: to brand me as mentally unstable.

Until that moment, I had not realized how ruthless he could be. Yet the chip—ironically his last safeguard against his own suppressed trauma—would fail within five minutes.

The internet erupted.

Alan became the embodiment of a chivalrous protector defending the woman he loved. Sophia was suddenly celebrated as a resilient, self-made icon.

I alone stood outside that narrative. Online, I became a canvas for increasingly inventive insults. Offline, the media turned their cameras on me.

"Mrs. Faust, are the details in this report accurate?"

"Mrs. Faust, if you have been separated for six months, why did you remain by Mr. Faust's side?"

"Did you act out of jealousy, Mrs. Faust? Was it a result of a personality disorder, or a deliberate act of malice?"

It still was not enough for Alan. He had one final card to play.

He produced a USB drive that he claimed would prove I was irredeemably, unequivocally unstable.

It reminded me of what Kier had told me. Someone had broken into his research lab. They had taken nothing of value, but they had copied the core data—the one video clip we had all worked so hard to bury.

I understood his plan, so I asked one last time, "Are you sure you want to play this here, in front of everyone?"

Alan hesitated.

Sophia seized the microphone and said, "I know you don't want your past exposed, but you're ill. You're so unwell that Alan alone cannot help you anymore. We need public input. Perhaps a professional will see this and reach out."

Her eyes gleamed with undisguised delight.

Her words erased any lingering doubt in him. "You brought this on yourself, Selena. You should not have challenged me."

Alan instructed his assistant to play the clip.

The crowd held its breath. The live comments flooded with the names of celebrity psychologists and mental health experts.

The video began. A tormented, anguished face filled the screen, shocking the audience into silence.

Alan staggered back from the podium, screaming.

The chip had failed.