He Framed Me To Protect His Apprentice

A colleague shook Violet awake, their face etched with grief.

“Violet, your brother… he didn’t survive the explosion,” they said.

She shot upright, her gaze locking onto the small, charred form beside her—still clutching the lucky charm she’d given him. Her mind spiraled back to her brother—frightened, helpless, clutching that charm and calling out, “Sis, help me—I’m scared.”

A crushing pain seized her chest, like a vise clamping around her heart.

She reached out with trembling fingers, almost touching his small, soot-covered face, when her mother’s voice cut through the air. In an instant, her mother was beside her, her voice shaking.

“Where is your brother? Where’s your brother?” she demanded, her eyes wild.

Violet turned her dazed eyes to the charred remains on the floor. Her mother screamed in terror and slapped her across the face.

“You’re lying! That’s not your brother. Violet Morris, bring me my son—bring him back!”

Tears streamed down her face, but before she could speak, her mother fainted.

At the hospital, her mother was rushed into surgery. Violet stood in the hallway, watching colleagues being wheeled in and out—injured, bruised. Despair loomed over her, threatening to swallow her whole. These were the colleagues she’d fought hard to bring onto the project. Now that disaster had struck, how would she face their families? And her brother—how would she ever face her mother?

Lost in thought, she barely registered Duncan calling her name from behind.

“The institute’s in chaos. How can you just show up at the hospital?” He stopped in front of her, his eyes widening at the abrasions on her neck and arms.

“How did you get hurt?” he asked, reaching out to comfort her. She pulled away, and Duncan frowned.

“The institute is already in enough disarray. Are you really going to pick a fight with me right now?” Frustration sharpened his voice.

“You know how Ella is—sensitive and timid. She’s been through a lot. Without immediate care and reassurance, this could leave a lasting impact,” he continued. “I need to stay with her; I can’t leave. I need you to keep an eye on things at the institute for me.”

A bitter laugh slipped out. “So why I’m at the hospital doesn’t even matter to you?” she said. “Duncan, who is your wife, really?”

“Violet!” Duncan’s face darkened.

“If it weren’t for Mr. Young’s sacrifice, the institute would never have been founded. Your project wouldn’t have gotten funding. You should be grateful,” he said. “Since you’re the project lead, you should take full responsibility for this explosion.”

“What did you just say?” she asked, her fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms.

She stared at him with despair, as though he were a stranger. Four years ago, Ella’s father—a chauffeur—had driven Duncan to secure approval for the new research institute. On the way, a car accident took his life—but not before he saved Duncan. The officials were moved, admiring their dedication to scientific progress, and promptly granted the funding.

After that, Duncan brought Ella—sixteen at the time—into their home and made sure she was cared for. Back then, Violet was so consumed by the institute’s construction and their projects that she didn’t pay attention. By the time she realized something was wrong, Duncan’s heart already belonged to Ella.