He Was But A Failed Detour

Beth's heart seized violently, her blood seeming to freeze in an instant.

He wanted her to take the blame. He wanted her to bury Summer’s lies with her own academic career.

"And the reason?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Rick, give me a reason."

"You're still young. You have time to start over." His justification sounded lofty, yet cut like ice. "But Summer doesn't. Behind her stands the entire Belden Medical Group. Our lab consumables and equipment all depend on their support. Beth, this is for the greater good."

"So my future—my reputation—is the price you're willing to sacrifice at any time, in your so-called greater good?"

"I told you I'll compensate you!" His patience finally wore thin, his face darkening. "Beth, you need to face reality! In this circle, without my protection, you are nothing. If this conference falls apart, do you really think you'll still have a place in this field?"

The logic was absurd, the emotion ice-cold. Like a fire, his words burned away the last trace of attachment in Beth's heart.

Tears streamed down her face, and she smiled.

"Rick, don't you love my talent?" She pointed to her chest and asked each word slowly. "Then why is everything you're doing now destroying it with your own hands?"

He was left speechless. In the end, he waved his hand impatiently.

"Don't be so emotional. This is final."

His gaze hardened as he delivered the cruelest verdict.

"At tomorrow's conference, you'll explain it the way I told you."

The way I told you.

Those words fell like a final sentence, declaring that in his heart she was no longer a partner whose brilliance deserved protection—but a tool that could be manipulated and sacrificed at will.

…

At the international conference the next day, under the glare of the spotlights, Beth was pushed onto the stage.

She looked out at the sea of faces below—faces that had once admired her, now filled with disdain and scrutiny.

She opened her mouth, but no words came.

She saw Rick sitting in the front row, watching her with a look of warning and impatience—not even offering a single reassuring gesture.

In that moment, the noise of the world seemed to fade away.

Her academic reputation, her dignity, her future—under his indifferent gaze—were being carved apart piece by piece.

The last shred of trust she had left was torn to dust by his own hands.

In the end, she did not "admit her mistake" according to his script. She simply picked up the microphone and said one calm sentence to everyone present.

"Regarding the authenticity of the data, I have nothing to say."

With that, she set the microphone down and, amid the stunned silence of the hall, turned and walked off the stage.

She left without hesitation, never once looking back at Rick's ashen face.

After the conference, what awaited her was not comfort, but Rick's cold "arrangement."

"For the time being, don't appear at the institute. I'll announce publicly that you've entered a period of medical leave for treatment."

"Treatment?" Beth laughed softly. "Treatment for what—for the value you haven't finished extracting from me yet?"

At that moment, her long-held belief—that if she only waited, he would one day give her justice—was completely, irrevocably shattered.

Calmly, she took a resignation letter from her bag and placed it in front of him.

"Thank you, Professor Allen, for your years of guidance. Our collaboration ends here."