The Scientist Who Rose From His Own Grave For Revenge

She was Seraphina Albright, the woman who traded a tenure track at The Claremont Institute—the kind of position people commit slow academic suicide for—to marry me. I was Ashton Cole, the man she’d chosen. The same hands that had snagged academia’s highest honors had made meals for me for three years. Everyone said she was madly in love with me. Until her research assistant, Jude Carver, formatted my core data right in front of my face. “What have you done?” My voice was a shaky whisper. He froze, utterly helpless, and Seraphina immediately stepped in front of him. “Jude didn’t mean to, Ash.” I stared at her hands—the hands that once held my victory trophy—now resting protectively on his shoulder. It was a searing, physical betrayal. Three years ago, my mother, gripping my hand tight from her sickbed, had rasped, “Ash, if you ever run into a wall, call her.” I took a ragged breath, the memory a ghost in the room, and pressed ‘Send’ on a message I’d drafted days ago.

“Jude Carver, you are going to the inquiry board.” I spoke without raising my voice, yet the coldness made him flinch. He ducked behind Seraphina, plucking nervously at her sleeve. Seraphina frowned, easing me away from him. “Ash, stop it. You’re scaring him.” She turned, taking a seat at the main console, and started typing. I watched her back, my fists clenched tight enough to hurt. A few seconds later, she stopped. “Well?” I pressed. She stood, avoiding my eyes. “The data can’t be recovered.” The atmosphere in the lab instantly curdled into something toxic and heavy. I lunged forward, my punch aimed for Jude. Seraphina, a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, caught my arm with impossible ease and flung me aside. I stumbled, crashing into a heavy lab bench. She looked at me then, her eyes as frigid and detached as if I were a stranger. I stayed frozen where I stood. It was the first time she had ever looked at me that way. The lab door swung open just as Dr. Warren Carmichael’s booming, cheerful voice cut through the tension. “Ash Cole! I pushed my board meeting just for this! You finished the beast your mother couldn’t tame in three years. Truly, the apple didn’t fall far!” I quickly rearranged my face, trying to salvage the last scraps of my dignity. “Dr. Carmichael, I’m sorry. We’ve had a major incident with Project Triton. The sea trial is off for today.” “What kind of incident? Do you need our resources?” Seeing the genuine concern on his face only amplified my shame. Before I could offer a professional explanation, Jude blurted out, “The core control module data is just… gone.” “What?!” Dr. Carmichael’s volume shot up. A specialist quickly checked the system and his voice was ice. “Professor Cole, there are zero trace logs of the neural core algorithm running in the system’s underlayer. Academic credibility isn’t built on hypothetical data.” I spun around, stunned, to look at Seraphina. She was the only one who had touched the console. She was the only one with the skill to cleanly erase every trace. I looked at the eyes I used to drown in, and my voice came out trembling, unrecognizable. “Seraphina, why?” Every single person’s gaze was fixed on the two of us. She sighed and walked toward me, reaching out to take my hand, but I jerked away. Her hand hung in the air for a moment before she dropped it naturally, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Ash, I know I’ve been distant lately. I understand you’re upset.” She turned to the Dean, her tone laced with professional regret. “Dr. Carmichael, Ash has been under an immense amount of pressure. I think he may be experiencing some cognitive dissonance. The data might have only existed in his proposals.” “Seraphina, you’re lying.” I shrieked the words. “Jude did the format, and you, afterwards, wiped every single operation log and trace.” Jude fearfully scrambled behind Seraphina. She instinctively shifted her body, creating a barrier. That tiny, subconscious gesture was like a dagger twisting in my heart. Her expression shifted to one of sheer annoyance before settling into familiar, patronizing resignation. “Ash, let’s go home and talk about this, okay? You need to rest.” Dr. Carmichael looked utterly defeated. “Professor Cole, I will report the events of today exactly as they occurred. You are suspended from all duties pending a full investigation.” He and the others filed out. The remaining lab members quietly collected their things, avoiding my gaze, and melted away. Finally, it was just the three of us. I watched her protective stance over Jude and was suddenly thrown back three years to an image: Seraphina, black dress, gold medal, proclaiming on the stage, “My future is with him.” Now, it was clear her future had a different co-star. Seraphina opened her mouth as if to say something. I looked into her eyes, but I cut her off first. “Seraphina, we need to get a divorce.” She stepped forward, gripping my wrist without asking. “Ash, you need to cool down. You are not thinking straight.” I tried to pull away, but her grip tightened. “Stop this childishness. You are and always will be my husband.” She dragged me out, giving me no choice. Back at the house, the dining table was laid with all my favorite dishes. She served me meal, pushing the plate toward me, her demeanor eerily normal. “Eat something. You’ve lost weight.” “Seraphina,” I looked her straight in the eye. “Project Triton was my mother’s dying wish. It was my dream.” Her forks paused. She picked up a piece of asparagus and placed it on my plate. “The data is lost. With your ability, rebuilding it is only a matter of time.” Then came the knife. “But Jude just graduated. If this is pinned on him as a major accident, his life is over.” I couldn’t help the hysterical laughter that tore from my chest, and the tears that immediately followed. “His life is important, and mine isn’t? If the academic fraud is confirmed, my career is finished.” “I could go to prison, Sera. Have you thought about that?” Her expression faltered for just a split second. She reached out and gently wiped the tears from my cheek. “It won’t come to that. I will handle it. You are just exhausted. You need rest.” Watching her in complete, cold control made me feel overwhelmingly, impossibly weary. “I’m tired. I’m going up to rest.” My voice was flat, empty. She didn’t stop me. She only stood there, watching my back as I walked up the stairs, her gaze dark and complex. I don’t know how long I sat there before I heard the low thrum of her car starting downstairs. A half-hour later, a video came in on my phone from Jude Carver’s number. It was Seraphina, arms around him, soothing him, her expression a mask of gentle empathy. The video finished, and he instantly recalled it. A new message popped up right away. [Professor Cole, my apologies. Sent that to the wrong person.] I didn’t reply. I didn’t even look at it again. An hour later, I heard the door open and footsteps downstairs. Seraphina was back, quicker than I’d expected. As soon as she reached the stairs, her phone rang. She turned her back to me, her voice hushed. “What’s going on? Don’t panic, I’m on my way.” She hung up and immediately spun to leave. She stopped at the door, glancing back at me. “Something urgent came up at the lab. I have to go out.” “Don’t wait up.” I said nothing, just sat silently on the edge of the bed, watching her go. She didn’t return that night. My phone screen occasionally lit up. Picture after picture, short video after short video. Seraphina putting food on Jude’s plate in a restaurant. Jude leaning against her shoulder in the car. Under the harsh midnight light of the lab, the two of them bent side-by-side over a document, the space between them intimate and charged… Each time the screen glowed, it felt like a tiny blade slicing at an already numb heart. I thought I was past tears, but they silently began to fall again. The next afternoon, Jude showed up on my doorstep. I leaned against the doorframe, looking at him with utter indifference. My lack of reaction seemed to sting him. He tilted his chin up, a sneer forming. “Professor Cole, why the self-deception?” He curled his lip. “Whose heart Seraphina holds, who she held and comforted all night long—you still don’t get it?” “Clinging to a dead marriage—if you’re not exhausted, I am for you.” I watched him quietly until he was finished. Then I spoke, slowly. “Done? Then get out.” I slammed the front door with all my strength. Jude stared at the closed door, his eyes flashing with malice. “You’ll regret this, Ash Cole.” I looked down at the unanswered message thread on my phone, my fingers ice cold. Had my mother misremembered? Or had the contact simply vanished? Just as I prepared to try the number again, my Twitter feed erupted. #WestwoodWunderkindExposed: Academic Fraudster #ProjectTritonHead: The Professor and the Paramour #DidHeSleepHisWayToTheTop? I clicked through. My photos, my professional history, even my family background—all laid bare, paired with deeply inflammatory captions. A few comments defending me were swiftly buried beneath a torrent of insults and filth. The few brave souls who spoke up were quickly driven off. Then the School Oversight Office called. “Professor Cole, report to the school immediately for questioning.” I hung up and drove to the university. The lab’s soundproofing wasn’t great. As I reached the door, Seraphina’s voice drifted out. “Jude, I can overlook your childish impulses, but turning this into an online circus is too much.” “I’ve made arrangements. I’m sending you to the East Coast in three days. I will handle the university side. Go and finish your degree without worry.” “I’m not leaving.” “Sera, I was wrong. Just forgive me this once, okay? Please…” “Can you really bear for our baby to be born without a father?” I couldn’t stand it anymore. I shoved the door open violently. A flash of rare panic crossed Seraphina’s face. She instantly pushed Jude away and walked toward me. “Ash, wait, it’s not what you think…” My gaze dropped to her abdomen. No wonder she’d been inventing excuses to avoid me lately. She was pregnant. My voice was dead calm. “Misunderstand? Are you denying you’re carrying his child?” She looked like she’d been choked, frozen where she stood. I didn’t spare her another glance. I walked straight to my office area, scooped up my laptop, and turned to leave. I spent a full twenty-four hours in the Oversight Office before they released me. When I walked out, the online furor had vanished. As I descended the steps, a man in a baseball cap rushed at me. “Academic fraudster, you deserve to die!” A flash of steel. A fruit knife plunged into my abdomen. I clutched the wound, staggering back, my head hitting the ground with a sickening thud. When I next woke up, I was in the hospital. Seraphina was sitting by my bed, her eyes shadowed with dark circles, looking utterly exhausted. Seeing me awake, her lips parted, but no sound came out. My voice was raspy. “Just say it.” She was silent for a long time before speaking the difficult words. “The online news was already suppressed.” “But the video of your attack at the university gates was recorded, and it hit the trending list again. The public pressure is immense… The inquiry board hearing is in two days.” I barely registered anything but the words inquiry board hearing. I closed my eyes, saying nothing. “But don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.” She urgently tried to take my hand, but I pulled it away. “I’m tired. I want to rest.” I cut her off, closing my eyes again. Her outstretched hand froze mid-air. After a long moment, she let it fall, adjusted my blanket, and then left the room. Confirming she was gone, I slowly opened my eyes and looked at the phone on my pillow. [Mr. Cole, my apologies. The data cannot be recovered. You may request an alternative condition.] The last shred of hope in my heart shattered. Two days later, Seraphina came to pick me up. She gently straightened my collar, her gaze soft. “Ash, it will be fine. I’ve handled everything. It’s just a formality.” I barely managed a quiet “Mhm” and didn’t look at her again. The steps leading up to the courthouse were endless. I stopped, turning my head to Seraphina at my side. “Seraphina, I’ll be fine, right?” She paused for a brief second, then gripped my hand. “Of course. Trust me.” I stood before the inquiry panel. I handled every question with composure. Until my research results were displayed on the screen, and the authorship read, chillingly, Jude Carver. The blood froze in my veins. The only person who knew the full scope of those results was Seraphina. I snapped my head toward the spectator entrance. Empty. Just before the judge’s gavel was about to drop, the door flew open. Seraphina rushed in, late. My eyes were locked onto her. Her phone vibrated. She looked down at the screen, and her face instantly changed. My heart seized up. Then, under my pleading, desperate gaze, she turned and walked away. The door clicked shut quietly. The last sound in my world vanished. It took me a moment to realize where I was. My voice was a desperate, dry sound. “I request an immediate recess.” Trembling, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I knew by heart. One ring, two rings… After the ninety-ninth ring, I finally gave up. Just then, a text message popped up. [Jude’s been kidnapped. It’s an emergency. I have to save him. Hold on, Ash, I’ll be right back.] Kidnapped? I stared at the words, and then a low laugh started in my throat. The laughter quickly turned into a violent cramp in my stomach. I doubled over, pressing my hands to the wound that hadn’t fully healed. So this was her ‘arrangement.’ She had abandoned me—again—for him. I looked down at the “alternative condition” text on my screen, edited a reply, and sent it back. When I stood on the panel again, my eyes were vacant. I stopped arguing. I stopped looking at anyone. I was ultimately sentenced to one year in prison. The next day, Seraphina came to visit. The look in her eyes held no guilt, only profound disappointment. “Ash, I never thought you’d sink this low—so malicious that you’d disregard a human life.” I froze, completely confused by her words. “I promised to send him away, but you still found someone to kidnap him. You are truly disappointing.” I weakly tried to explain. “It wasn’t me…” She cut me off, her voice sharp and cold. “Ash, the evidence is irrefutable. When you do wrong, you pay the price.” A few days later, a new sentencing document arrived. My one-year term was extended to five years. Two weeks passed before Eliza Holt appeared at the visitation window. “Mr. Cole. I am the person you contacted.” She passed me a file. “Your abilities fit our Institute’s requirements.” “If you join, your current identity will be erased. The world will no longer know an Ashton Cole.” I took the file, and my answer was instantaneous, requiring almost no thought. “I accept.” A week later, the news of my death from illness in prison spread. Sitting on the plane, I watched the coastal lights of San Valencia shrink to glittering pinpricks. Goodbye, Seraphina. Goodbye, my past.