Ronda closed her eyes. Tears fell down her cheeks. "But I have one condition. I want to see him one last time, as I have something to return to him in person."

Richard hesitated for a moment before dialing Greg's number.

Half an hour later, Greg arrived.

He seemed to have just come from a celebration banquet, carrying a faint scent of alcohol and perfume, which Rose often used.

"So? Have you thought it through?" Greg loosened his tie as he sat on the sofa. He cast a disdainful glance at Ronda. "It would have been better if you had done this earlier, instead of making things ugly for everyone."

Ronda propped herself up with her left hand with difficultly and took a small black velvet box from under the pillow.

She had planned to give him the gift for their tenth wedding anniversary.

It was a cufflink she bought with her first surgery bonus. Though it was not expensive, it bore his initials.

She had originally planned to tell him about her pregnancy that day.

Now, everything felt like a cruel joke.

"Greg, how many years have we known each other?" Ronda asked softly.

"Fifteen years." Greg glanced impatiently at his watch. "If you're trying to play the emotional card, save it. I have a strict sense of purity. I won't take back a woman touched by another guy."

A knife seemed to have been plunged into her heart, leaving her numb with pain.

"Fifteen years... So you think I am so dirty?"

She opened the box, took out the cufflink, and rubbed it in her palm. "In these fifteen years, I've protected you from disputes with difficult patients, stayed up late organizing data for you, and given up my dream of advancing my career at the best university for you... Greg, did you ever love me, even for a second?"

Greg looked at her pale face and felt a sudden flash of irritation.

He stood up and looked down at her. "Did I love you? Ronda, don't think too highly of yourself. I married you because my grandpa liked you and because you were obedient and useful. But that doesn't mean you can hurt Rose recklessly or betray me."

"Betray you..." Ronda let out a sad laugh. It grew louder until it turned into a violent cough.

She suddenly raised her hand and hurled the cufflink at Greg's face.

The cufflink hit his forehead, leaving a red mark.

Then it fell to the floor and rolled into a corner.

"Greg, you're the real idiot for not seeing the truth." Ronda's eyes reddened as she pointed at the door. "Take your agreements and get out. Even if I end up in hell, I don't want any ties with you anymore."

Greg touched his forehead. There was blood on his finger. His expression turned utterly dark.

"Fine." He laughed out of anger. Then he took out a pen from his pocket and slammed it on the table. "Ronda, this is the path you chose. From now on, in Cyburris and in the medical world, you don't expect to find opportunities."

Ronda's left hand trembled as she picked up the pen.

Writing with her left hand was difficult. The words were crooked, as if she were drawing symbols.

But she pressed hard. The pen tore the paper and sliced through the fifteen years of time and absurdity.

With the final stroke, she seemed to have exhausted all her strength.

"Take them." She turned her head away and refused to look at him.

Greg stared at the glaring signatures. But he didn't feel as pleased as he had anticipated. Instead, panic and emptiness rose within him.

Something important seemed to be stripped away from his life.

He frowned and suppressed the odd feeling.

"You brought this on yourself." He coldly tossed the words, picked up the agreements, and left.

At the door, he suddenly stopped and looked back.

On the hospital bed, the woman who once followed him everywhere, whose eyes were always filled with him, now looked like a broken doll, lifeless.

"When your hand... Forget it." Greg hesitated and ultimately steeled himself and walked away.

He had intended to say that once her hand healed, he might arrange a back-office job for her if she admitted her mistakes.

But he hadn't thought that once her heart died, she would never come back again.

After Greg left, the hospital room fell silent.

It felt like a grave.

Ronda pulled the needle out of the back of her hand. Blood gushed out, yet she felt no pain.

She got out of bed and touched the cold floor with her bare feet. She walked towards the window step by step.

It was the 16th floor.

The bustling traffic and flickering neon lights below displayed the most vibrant night view of Cyburris.

Just days ago, she was at the pinnacle of the bustling city, admired by all as Greg's wife.

But she had nothing now.

Her hand was ruined, her baby was gone, and her reputation was destroyed.

She even lost her home.

Suddenly, the phone, abandoned in the corner, started vibrating.

Ronda ignored it.

The vibration persisted for a long time. Then it stopped and started again, like an unrelenting pestering.

Ronda hesitated. But she eventually walked over and picked it up.

An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen.

She answered it, and an elderly yet authoritative voice came through. "Is that Ronda?"

Ronda froze.

It sounded like... her mentor, the country's neurosurgery expert, Professor Kenneth Rogers, who had strongly opposed her marriage to Greg back then.

"Professor..." Ronda's tears flowed freely, like a river unleashed.

"Ronda, I've noticed the news." Kenneth's voice was filled with suppressed anger and concern. "That brat, Greg, has gone too far. Don't be afraid. As long as I breathe, I won't let them mistreat you this way."

"Professor, I... I've let you down..." Ronda sobbed and collapsed to the floor. "My hand is ruined... I can't perform surgery anymore..."

"Nonsense!" Kenneth's voice thundered. "I knew you when you were a little girl. You are more resilient than anyone else. As long as there's some nerve function remaining, there's hope. Even if it can't be treated here, we'll go abroad. Remember, your hands are meant to save others, not to serve guys. Greg is not worthy."

"But... I've signed..."

"What did you sign? A patent transfer agreement?" Kenneth sneered, "That agreement is legally void. Your core data from back then is backed up with me. It's a highly classified project. It's not something Greg can transfer. If he dares to act, I'll ensure he ends up behind bars."

Ronda's lifeless heart started beating after she heard those words.

Kenneth was right.

She still had Kenneth and unfinished dreams.

Why should she die for a scoundrel like Greg?

He and Rose deserved that.

"Professor... I want to leave here." Ronda dried her tears. A fire of revenge ignited in her eyes. "I want to heal my hand and take back what belonged to me."

"Good. That's my good mentee." Kenneth said excitedly, "I've already arranged everything for you. There's a private plane to Anceburg at one o'clock in the early morning. Wait at the hospital's back door. Someone will pick you up. Remember, leave everything behind and keep moving forward."

"Okay." Hanging up the phone, Ronda looked out of the window, and her gaze turned extremely cold.

At one the next morning, a discreet black car was parked at the hospital's back entrance.

Ronda was dressed as a cleaner with a mask and a hat. She successfully avoided all surveillance cameras and quietly slipped out.

Before getting into the car, she glanced back at the brightly lit hospital building.

The director's office on the top floor was still aglow.

Greg was celebrating Rose's "promotion," partying through the night.

"Greg, Rose." Ronda silently repeated their names in her mind. "I will repay a hundredfold the humiliation I received today. Just wait."

The next morning, Greg rubbed his temples, which were still sore from the hangover. Then he pushed open the hospital room door.

"Ronda, after thinking it over last night, as long as you're willing to publicly apologize, I can..." His voice abruptly stopped.

The room was empty, and the bed was neatly made.

On the bedside table lay a bloodstained cufflink and a divorce agreement marked "divorce with no possessions," already dried.

"Where are you, Ronda?"

He suddenly panicked. The feeling of being stripped of something became even more intense than the night before.

He rushed into the bathroom. No one was there.

He ran out into the hallway. Ronda was not there.

"Where's Ronda?" He grabbed a passing nurse and shouted.

"What? She was here yesterday evening..." The nurse trembled and was frightened.

Greg frantically checked the surveillance footage.

The cameras showed only a cleaner pushing a cart off the floor, and then it was gone.

"Mr. Riley, something terrible has happened."

Richard stumbled over with a pale face. "Mr. Rogers just issued a statement accusing you of usurping national-level research results. He says he's suing the hospital for illegal detention and intentional harm. Also... also..."

"What?" Greg's eyes were bloodshot.

"And the core database for the neurosurgery department has been locked down. Ronda set up a dynamic password, and no one can unlock it except her. Rose tried to forcibly crack it just now, but she triggered the self-destruct protocol. All data... is being irreversibly deleted."

"What?" Greg felt the world spin around him, a wave of dizziness sweeping over him.

That data was worth billions! It was even the key to the hospital going public next year!

"Find her. Search every place to find her," Greg roared hysterically.

He finally realized that Ronda, who had always silently stood behind him and allowed him to take what he wanted, had truly left.

She had vanished from his world, resolute and with resentment.

Greg stood by the large window and gripped the cufflink tightly.

He hadn't slept all night.

Several security department managers stood before the desk, heads bowed. They hardly dared to breathe freely.

"So, you're telling me a living person disappeared right under your noses?"

"Mr. Riley, the surveillance really... had no blind spots." The head of the security, his forehead beaded with cold sweat, said in an unsteady voice, "But the strange thing is, all the camera feeds skipped briefly last night during that exact period. The tech team checked. They say it was... apparently... caused by military-grade signal jamming."

It was military-grade signal jamming.

Greg abruptly turned and smashed the cup at the head of the security's feet.

The porcelain shattered, and the scalding coffee soaked the expensive, handmade carpet.

It must be Kenneth.

He had actually used his military connections to take Ronda away.

"Check the exit records. I've made arrangements with customs. If there's any information on Ronda's identification, detain her immediately."

"We've... checked it." Richard pushed the door open, and his face was pale. He was holding a tablet. "Mr. Riley, the system... has no record of her."

Greg's pupils shrank sharply. "What did you say?"

"Ronda's personal records were classified as top secret by the government an hour ago. We have no access to it."

A visceral blow, as if struck by a sledgehammer in the chest, hit Greg. A suffocating wave of loss of control made him loosen his tie.

Ronda was telling him that she would not just leave but walk away clean, completely, leaving him not a single trace to hold on to.

"That's fine." Greg laughed in anger. His knuckles cracked. "If she wants to hide, then let her be. Freeze all her bank cards and assets. Let's see how long she can last out there."

The office door was pushed open again.

The sharp sound of high heels on the floor cut through the air.

A figure in a white lab coat walked in. She had long hair cascading over slender shoulders.

Greg was momentarily distracted.

For an instant, he saw Ronda holding a freshly completed experiment report. Her eyes were bloodshot from sleepless nights, yet she was still smiling as she walked up to him.

"Greg..."

He instinctively took a step forward and reached out to her.

"Greg, do you think this outfit suits me?" Rose twirled around, and her face was adorned with a coquettish smile. She was holding a limited edition Hermès handbag that clashed with the solemn white lab coat.

Greg's hand froze midair. The light in his eyes instantly cooled into a fury. "Who allowed you to wear that coat?"

Rose hesitated and was frightened by his dark expression. "This... this is the spare lab coat my Ronda left in the office. Mine hasn't arrived yet, and I have to go to the lab today for handover..."

"Take it off." Greg's voice was as cold as ice.

"Greg..."

"Take it off!" Greg suddenly erupted in anger. He yanked the lab coat off her. "This is the uniform of the neurosurgery director. Are you worthy of it?

The ripping of fabric echoed sharply in the quiet office.

Rose screamed and stepped back while clutching her chest. Tears streamed down her face. "Greg, you're being mean to me... You never used to be mean to me... Is it because Ronda left, and you're feeling sorry for her? If that's the case, then I'll leave. After all, I'm just a burden no one cares about."

She cried as she ran out, deliberately knocking over a stack of papers as she passed the desk.

Greg closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His temples were pounding.

His reason told him he should comfort Rose.

Yet his body felt leaden, unable to move an inch.

"It's on that desk." He pointed at the jet-black computer tower beside him and said in a weary voice, "All the core data Ronda left is in there. You said you could take over, right? Open it."

Rose stopped crying and glanced timidly at the computer. "I... I'll try."

She sat in the chair and pressed the power button.

The screen lit up.

There was no standard login screen, but only a line of red code pulsing against a pitch-black background.

Then a dialog box popped up. "NON-ADMIN FINGERPRINT DETECTED. SELF-DEFENSE PROTOCOL ENGAGED. PLEASE ENTER THE CORE FORMULA FOR PHASE 3 OF THE 'NEURAL REGENERATION' PROJECT TO UNLOCK."