Chapter 311

Chapter 311

Throughout the entire process, Vivian's hands never trembled once. Her expression remained as calm as if she were completing just another routine task.

But when she walked out of the institute building and got into her beat-up Beetle, she collapsed against the steering wheel. Her shoulders shook violently, uncontrollably. Whether she was crying or laughing, no one could tell.

Three days later.

Calista was helping Ethan build a massive Star Wars Lego spaceship while Gary sat nearby, enjoying a rare moment of leisure as he flipped through a financial magazine.

Suddenly, Calista's private email pinged with a message from the Chairman of the International Scientific Research Council.

She opened it.

The attachment was a link to a paper on the preprint server of 'Cell,' one of the world's top biology journals.

The paper's title read: [Revolutionary Improvements and Prospects for Targeted Gene Editing Technology].

The author was someone she'd never heard of—Dr. Heinrich Schmidt, from a private laboratory in Sylvanor.

Calista's heart dropped.

She clicked into the full text and scanned through it rapidly.

Data models, core algorithms, experimental pathways... ninety-nine percent identical to the technical documentation she'd just completed three days ago.

No. Not just identical.

The author had even made some extremely cunning modifications to Calista's original work—changes that appeared to be optimizations but would actually trigger serious logical paradoxes.

And this paper had been published last night.

In the introduction, the author wrote in a tone of wounded nobility: "...We are painfully aware that this technological breakthrough will attract countless opportunists. Recently, our laboratory's core data was allegedly stolen through improper means by a female researcher. We are deeply saddened by this and reserve the right to pursue legal action. Scientific progress should not be tainted by individual greed..."

No names mentioned.

But every word was a knife pointed directly at Calista.

This wasn't innuendo anymore. This was carving 'I'm a thief' onto Calista's forehead and broadcasting it to the world.

If White Chamber's previous attacks had been physical assassination attempts, this time it was character assassination.

They wanted to kill Calista the scientist.

"What's wrong?" Gary noticed something was off and set down his magazine.

Calista didn't answer. She closed the email without expression and dialed Vivian's number.

On the other end came a cold automated message.

"The number you have dialed is not in service."

Calista hung up. Said nothing.

But the air in the living room seemed to drain away in that instant. Warm sunlight streamed through the windows, yet she couldn't feel an ounce of warmth.

Gary looked at her face and immediately understood.

He took her laptop and quickly scanned through the paper and email.

His expression darkened faster than the evening sky outside.

"Gaia's Grasp..." He forced the words through clenched teeth.

So this was White Chamber's 'Gaia's Grasp.'

Not a bomb. Not a virus. But using what you're most proud of to nail you to a pillar of shame.

They stole Calista's work, then turned around and accused 'her' of being the thief—transforming her from a brilliant scientist into a shameless plagiarist.

Just then, the phone rang. The International Scientific Research Council.

The director's voice was businesslike, devoid of any emotion.

"Dr. Softhart, regarding the paper on Cell's preprint server and Dr. Schmidt's public accusations, the board is aware of the situation."

"According to our bylaws, we will immediately establish an independent third-party investigative committee."

"Until the investigation concludes, all your duties are suspended and your laboratory access is temporarily revoked. Please cooperate."

The line went dead.

Calista sat there quietly, still holding the Lego piece she'd been about to hand Ethan.

She didn't scream in rage. She didn't break down in tears.

She just slowly, slowly raised her head and looked at Gary. Her eyes were terrifyingly calm.

"They succeeded," she said.

Gary's heart felt like it was being crushed in a fist.

He'd rather see her cry, see her lose her temper—anything but this deathly stillness.

"Not yet." Gary moved to her side and took her ice-cold hand. "As long as you're still here, as long as the data's still here, it's not over."

He immediately called Brian.

Brian was still drowning in last quarter's financial reports when he picked up.

"Mr. Frost?"

"I need you to dig into two people. One is Vivian, Mrs. Frost's former lab assistant who just quit today. The other is Heinrich Schmidt, a doctor at Sylvanor's 'Renaissance' Lab. I want everything on them from birth to now, including what they ate for dinner last night."

Brian was silent for three seconds, then muttered, "Mr. Frost, has our company's business scope expanded from international corporate warfare to... Interpol and gastroenterology?"

"You have one hour." Gary hung up.

He looked at Calista and said, word by word, "They think this will cage you. They don't know—you 'are' the storm."

Calista's gaze, initially hollow, slowly refocused.

What filled it now wasn't shock or pain.

It wasn't the cold of despair, but the chill of steel in the instant it's quenched and hardened.

Calista slowly stood and walked to her study, opening her private computer.

If they wanted a public trial, if they wanted to judge her before the eyes of the world—

Fine.

She'd peel back their skin, layer by layer, in front of that same global audience.

The aftershocks of 'Gaia's Grasp' hit faster and harder than anyone imagined.

Overnight, Calista transformed from a hunted genius scientist into an academic thief who'd stolen another's work. The reversal was blindingly swift.

Academic forums that once revered her now blazed with inflammatory headlines.

[BREAKING SCANDAL! Asian Rising Star Dr. Softhart Accused of Stealing Core Research from Sylvanor's Dr. Heinrich Schmidt!]

[Exposing Calista's Rise: From Softhart Family Fake Heiress to Mrs. Frost—Was Any of It Clean?]

[Serious Discussion: If Plagiarism Charges Stick, Should ALL Her Previous Research Be Re-Examined?]

Public opinion doesn't need evidence. It only needs a juicy enough 'possibility.'

"White Chamber" didn't even need to fan the flames themselves. They'd just tossed the spark into dry kindling. Plenty of people were happy to add fuel, eager to watch an idol topple.

The official suspension notice arrived an hour later—not by email, but hand-delivered as a cold, formulaic paper document.

Her lab access card was remotely deactivated. That digital key that once represented her life's work and future became nothing but useless plastic.

Calista stood by the study window, watching the delivery car disappear down the driveway. She said nothing.

Gary walked over, wanting to say something, but realized any words of comfort would ring hollow right now.

For Calista, who'd poured her entire soul into research, this was worse than death.

He said nothing. Just turned and walked into another room, closing the door behind him.

Inside, Brian's video call was already connected. Figures moved in the background, keyboards clacking—clearly a hastily assembled war room.

"Mr. Frost, we've got it."

Brian spoke rapidly, dark circles heavy under his eyes. Whether from lack of sleep or shock at what he'd found was anyone's guess.

"Vivian. Orphan, adopted by a working-class family. Her record's clean as a whistle. But when we traced her money flow upstream, we found a massive anonymous transfer from a Sylvanor bank. The recipient was her adoptive mother, who was just diagnosed last week with a rare blood disease. Treatment costs are astronomical."

Gary listened, expressionless.

"As for Heinrich Schmidt, even more interesting." Brian pushed up his glasses, looking somewhat energized on screen. "He's one of the founders of Renaissance Lab, but years ago he was expelled from his university for serious academic misconduct, then vanished. We hacked into their lab's internal server and found the paper's original creation file. Creation timestamp? Fifteen minutes after Vivian uploaded your data. And we found encrypted communications between Vivian and Heinrich that explicitly mention the code name 'Gaia's Grasp.'"

"Package all the evidence. Cross-verify everything. Make sure every single piece is airtight." Gary's voice was emotionless.

"Got it!" Brian paused, then added quietly, "Mr. Frost, this move is so dirty. It's academic fraud on steroids. This isn't just corporate warfare and Interpol territory anymore—I feel like I'm becoming an honorary ethics committee member."

"Then do the committee's job too." Gary cut the connection.

He walked out. The living room was quiet.

Calista still stood by the window, like a silent statue.

The sunset's glow gilded her in gold, but couldn't dispel the chill surrounding her.

She wasn't broken. Gary knew that.

She was just processing this sudden war in her own way.

Small footsteps sounded upstairs. Ethan had woken up, padding down the stairs in his little dinosaur onesie, rubbing his eyes as his small head peeked around the corner.

He saw Calista and ran down, wrapping his arms around her legs.

"Mommy."

Calista's body stiffened, then she slowly crouched down and pulled Ethan into her arms.

Ethan's small hands cupped her face. He studied her seriously, then nuzzled his soft little cheek against hers.

"Mommy sad?"

Calista didn't speak. Just shook her head.

"Then let's build spaceship." Ethan took her hand and tugged her toward the Lego pile on the carpet. "When spaceship done, we fly to moon and throw away all the sad."

His words were childish, but they were like a key, sliding precisely into the rusted lock in Calista's heart.

She looked into Ethan's crystal-clear eyes. They held no impurities. Only complete trust and love for her.