After I resigned from my position, I took my parents on a long-awaited trip around the world.

Back at the lab, my girlfriend’s junior classmate—Luther Grant—who had always been hailed as a prodigious talent in intelligent robotics, panicked. He began calling me relentlessly—up to a hundred times a day. During a celebration banquet, he even publicly declared, “The rapid advancements in the intelligent robot project are all thanks to Team Leader Cole. Without his support, I wouldn’t have had so many breakthroughs. I sincerely hope Team Leader Cole can take the bigger picture into account and return to help us.”

Even my girlfriend scolded me, accusing me of being petty, letting jealousy cloud my judgment, and ignoring the collective mission.

But I simply hung up, unmoved. I continued my journey across countries and continents with my parents, appreciating every peaceful moment away from that toxic environment.

In my past life, Luther had shamelessly claimed the title of an intelligent robotics genius. Each time I spent days poring over research and compiling experimental data, he would somehow publish my findings ahead of me.

After it happened several times, my colleagues began mocking me. They said I was desperate for recognition, using family ties to secure the role of R&D team leader, only to steal credit for others’ work. The pressure mounted. To silence the accusations, I pushed myself beyond exhaustion, working around the clock for a week straight. Eventually, I created a new dataset for intelligent robot development.

But when I emerged from the lab to share the results, I was told that my junior had already announced identical data—an hour earlier.

Worse still, he had started a livestream, where he made veiled accusations against me, implying that I had tried to coerce him into ghostwriting the research. The internet exploded. Outraged netizens began boycotting my family’s products, claiming that my parents’ company was fraudulent. In just days, they were forced into bankruptcy.

Meanwhile, Luther secured the R&D patent, gained fame as a pioneering genius in artificial intelligence, and was approached by major corporations eager to buy the rights to his “work.”

Our family was ruined—socially, professionally, and financially. And then, as if fate hadn’t dealt enough damage, the three of us were struck and killed by an out-of-control truck on our way to expose him.

But I woke up again.

This time, I was back on the very day Luther first claimed credit as the genius behind intelligent robot breakthroughs.

——

“Team Leader Cole? Are you okay? You fainted just now!”

A familiar voice echoed in my ears. My vision cleared. I was seated in a chair, surrounded by concerned colleagues.

“Team Leader, what phase are you working on now?”

Before I could respond, Luther approached and proudly handed me a stack of documents. “Here’s the data I just finished. The chip algorithm allows the robot to autonomously recognize different objects.”

I froze. Flipping through the pages with trembling fingers, I recognized every line, every graph. This was my work—the data I had painstakingly developed over ten grueling days.

I had been reborn to the day when he first stole my results and claimed that he had only spent half a day on them.

My colleagues chatted casually nearby. “Team Leader Cole, you look exhausted. Did you finish compiling the research data?”

I didn’t answer. I rushed to the experimental table and turned on my computer. The screen was still displaying the detailed logs of my calculations and testing. All the data was there—recorded with timestamps.

My face turned pale, and my heart pounded like a drum.

Luther followed me and said in an almost casual tone, “Team Leader Cole, you asked me earlier to organize the data. I’ve done it now. Take a look.”

Then he leaned in closer, smirking, “I know kids from rich families like you usually aren’t very capable. But I’m the real talent in R&D. Just leave robot development to me from now on. You just make sure our team has enough funding and meals.”

At that moment, my throat tightened. A wave of dizziness hit me as stars danced before my eyes.

I remembered clearly—this was the exact day he first presented my data on his own. He had framed it as if he’d completed all the work in just a few hours, while eating and relaxing.

My colleagues believed him. They showered him with praise, calling him a rare genius and the shining hope of the robotics industry.

“He’s doing the work of five people by himself,” they said. “What do we need a team leader for, if all he does is lock us in the lab day and night?”

“He just wanted the spotlight,” someone had whispered. “Otherwise, why monopolize the credit?”

I refused to accept the outcome. Fueled by frustration and disbelief, I dismissed my colleagues and locked myself in the laboratory for another grueling week, determined to push the research and development process forward once more. Day and night blurred as I immersed myself in the data, calculations, and simulations, clinging to the hope that I could regain the team’s trust through undeniable results.

But when I finally emerged from the lab, exhausted yet hopeful, I was met with yet another crushing blow—Luther had already published the new data I had spent the past week refining. Once again, he had beaten me to the punch.

My colleagues saw this and quickly drew their own conclusions. Whispers spread like wildfire—people believed I was only hungry for fame, exploiting my position as team leader to steal the achievements of my subordinates. To them, I was a fraud cloaked in authority, using my family’s influence to take credit for others’ hard work.

The injustice boiled in my veins. Fueled by anger and desperation, I worked overtime, barely resting, pouring every ounce of effort into developing an intelligent robot chip. This chip wasn’t just functional—it was revolutionary. It could assist the elderly with daily tasks, accompany them to medical appointments, and perform household chores with uncanny precision. It was 90% close to human capability, a breakthrough that could reshape the industry.

But just as I was preparing to unveil it, Luther held a press conference. With an expression of feigned sorrow, he claimed that he had no choice but to go public ahead of time—otherwise, he said, I would have stolen his results.

He spoke with emotional conviction, saying I had repeatedly asked for his data and hinted at taking his work. He then painted himself as a misunderstood genius who needed only half a day of inspiration to accomplish what others couldn’t in weeks.

The public was enraged. Accusations rained down like arrows, branding me an academic fraud, a disgrace to the scientific community. Netizens took it a step further, accusing my parents of sponsoring the R&D project solely to reap the rewards. Our family’s smart home tech company was immediately thrust into the spotlight—for all the wrong reasons.

Social media exploded:

“Crack down on fake companies! Clean up the scientific community!”

“Purge parasites in technology and give science a clean sky!”

Luther walked away unscathed, hailed as the rightful patent holder and the shining star of intelligent R&D. Companies lined up to partner with him, eager to manufacture intelligent robots born from my work.

In desperation, my parents scoured evidence to clear my name. But fate dealt its cruelest hand: on the way to submit the findings, they were struck by a speeding, out-of-control truck. We were all inside.

We didn’t survive. Our bodies were crushed beyond recognition.

Yet somehow, fate gave me another chance.

I was reborn—returned to the very moment before it all began.

This time, I swore, I would uncover the truth and expose lies. Luther would not succeed again.

Back in the lab, I heard my colleagues muttering excitedly yet skeptically.

“Luther is truly a genius? He really developed this himself?”

“Our team leader worked for a whole week, and he did it in just half a day? That last section of the data is uncanny…”

My girlfriend and assistant snatched the R&D documents from my hands, glanced at them, and immediately showered Luther with praise.

“Luther, you’re incredible. I always knew you had talent for these things, but to complete such complex data in just half a day? That’s beyond impressive!”

The surrounding staff erupted in chatter. Their eyes widened in astonishment. Those who were once skeptical began to look at me with doubt and suspicion.

Their whispers stung:

“Why are we even working overtime to verify anything? Luther’s results already match what we were aiming for.”

“Let’s be honest, didn’t he already peek at the data? Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out now.”

The looks they gave me were laced with meaning, and my heart turned cold.

In my past life, they believed him without question. They began disregarding my instructions, ignoring my deadlines. Instead, they followed Luther out to parties, dinners, and late-night hangouts.

He had boasted then too—“I just need a flash of inspiration. Give me two hours, and I’ll write you a whole new dataset. Guaranteed.”

This time, I swallowed my anger. I wouldn't argue. I wouldn't fight publicly.

Instead, I was going to do things differently. This time, I’d keep my cards close, my data tighter, and my trust minimal.

As the research entered its second phase, I allowed no one into the lab except one person—my most trusted friend and assistant: Jason Miller.

The fight wasn’t over. It had only just begun.

In my previous life, after I died, there was only one person who stood up for me—Jason. He went everywhere defending me, telling others I had been wronged. While everyone else either remained silent or jumped to conclusions, he alone spoke the truth.

Now, back in this life, I watched Luther continue to play his role perfectly, wearing the mask of concern and sincerity. He turned to me, eyes full of feigned innocence.

“Team Leader Cole, what do you mean by this? Are you suggesting we stole your data?”

His voice was calm, but underneath, I could hear the veiled threat, the implication that I was the irrational one.

Immediately, the rest of the team turned to me, their expressions twisted in anger and contempt.

“Team Leader Cole, you clearly don't have the capability to match Junior Grant’s data. And now you’re slandering us? How can you accuse us of stealing for him?” someone said sharply.

I didn’t respond. I simply changed my clothes in silence and locked the laboratory doors. My face was expressionless, but inside, I was burning.

I knew without a doubt that the data had been leaked, or worse, that Luther had somehow obtained it using underhanded means. Otherwise, there was no way he could repeatedly present the exact results I had worked so hard to develop.

So, this time, I decided to shut the lab down completely—no access, no exceptions. I wanted to see if he could still "coincidentally" come up with the same results without anyone feeding him information.

For five straight days, Jason and I worked in isolation, pouring every ounce of energy into the project. With zero interference, we pushed ahead in the R&D phase. Finally, we succeeded. We developed a concept model of the intelligent robot, capable of distinguishing voices, identifying hosts from guests, and processing unfamiliar speech with adaptive response. It was a real breakthrough.

When I opened the lab door, exhausted but relieved, I was ready to show everyone what we had achieved. But instead of admiration, I was met with mockery and smirks.

My chest tightened. A sense of unease crept over me.

Then came Luther’s smug voice. “Team Leader Cole, I just released the data from this development stage. Don’t you think it’s a bit late to present it now? In science, it’s not just about hard work—it’s about efficiency.”

I froze. Shock flooded through me. I looked around and saw a few colleagues who had once supported me now avoiding my gaze. Some looked at me with pity. Others didn’t bother hiding their scorn.

How? The lab had been sealed. The data had been generated solely through the experiments Jason and I had performed. There had been no chance of any leak. Yet somehow, Luther had still released the same numbers—down to the decimal point.

I was completely dumbfounded.

Then, as if delivering the final blow, Luther chuckled and waved to the group. “You’ve all worked hard. Let’s celebrate tonight at The Mill Bar—no one goes home until they’re drunk!”

“Junior Brother, it’s not us who worked hard—it’s all you! We should be the ones thanking you!” someone said eagerly.

“You’re too humble. We’re a team, right? My success is everyone’s success,” he replied, throwing me a condescending glance.

Then he added with a smirk, “Team Leader, you called me yesterday asking for the data, and I sent it over out of courtesy. I know you want to contribute, but talent is a gift. No matter how jealous you are, you can’t fake it or take it.”

His words struck like daggers. My mind was spinning. Then I heard her voice—my girlfriend, Claire Bennett.

“Ethan Cole, as the team leader, how could you use your authority to pressure others for results?” she snapped. “I told you Luther has real talent, but you ignored him.”

She looked at me as if I were nothing more than an embarrassment. “You’re making such a big scene just to take credit for someone else’s work?”

I opened my mouth to speak, to defend myself, but she cut me off coldly.

“Enough. I’ve seen what you’re capable of—or rather, what you’re not. If I’d known this, I wouldn’t have recommended Junior Brother for the project.”

Then, as if delivering a final verdict, she said, “From now on, let Junior Brother Luther take full charge of the R&D. You can assist where needed.”

Cheers erupted around them. Everyone gathered around Luther, showering him with praise and laughter.

I stood there, alone, drowning in silence.

Grabbing my hair in frustration, I felt as if my thoughts were collapsing in on themselves. I couldn’t figure out how he got the data—unless he had used some underhanded, possibly even technological means to steal it.

From that moment forward, everything changed.

No one respected me anymore. The staff no longer spoke politely. Even Mr. John, our project head, began to treat me coldly. If it weren’t for my father’s reputation and connections, I was certain he would have already removed me from the position of team leader.

But this time, I would not let it end the same way. I had been given a second life—for a reason.

And I wasn’t going to waste it.