Chapter 12 - THE MAN WHO TRIED TO STEAL MY SECOND LIFE
Evan Blake had been brilliant.
He had also been a liar.
Five years ago, we worked in adjacent research groups.
He frequently asked to see my calculations.
I thought collaboration meant trust.
Apparently, Evan thought collaboration meant opportunity.
Professor Hale pulled archival server records.
My notebooks were dated.
My drafts were timestamped.
So were Evan’s.
At first, his claim looked credible.
Then we noticed something.
One of his supposed 2018 files referenced a software package released in 2020.
“He fabricated the metadata,” I said.
Thomas smiled slowly.
“Yes.”
Why return now?
Money.
The discovery had commercial implications.
Moretti Advanced Systems had withdrawn its claim.
Project Orion planned open scientific licensing.
Evan saw an opportunity.
But he had help.
His attorney was funded through a shell company.
Rebecca traced it.
The company connected to one person.
Carlo Moretti.
Even dead, Carlo was reaching into our lives.
Daniel discovered why.
Carlo had paid Evan years earlier to monitor my work.
I stared at the financial records.
“Why would Carlo care about astrophysics?”
“He didn’t,” Daniel said.
“He cared about you.”
Apparently Victor’s decision to give me company shares had not begun after marriage.
Victor had considered it earlier.
Carlo knew.
He wanted leverage over anyone Victor trusted.
Evan had been reporting on me before Adrian and I ever met.
That realization made my skin crawl.
“Did Adrian know?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I don’t think so.”
For once, he truly didn’t.
Evan’s claim collapsed within a week.
Stanford issued a formal finding supporting my authorship.
Our paper went forward.
Then came something I never expected.
A call from Washington.
A federal science agency wanted Project Orion involved in a new observational program.
Professor Hale nearly shouted.
I sat at my desk afterward, staring at the sky through the window.
My life had become mine again.
Adrian sent no flowers.
No jewelry.
No grand gestures.
Instead, one email arrived.
Congratulations, Dr. Bennett. You earned every bit of this.
No request.
No mention of us.
I read it three times.
Then closed it.
Six months passed.
I moved into a small house near campus.
Project Orion hired researchers.
We funded scholarships for women returning to STEM after career interruptions.
Sophia rebuilt her family company.
Elena joined the Moretti board as an independent director.
Margaret moved back to Chicago.
Adrian stepped down as CEO permanently.
That shocked everyone.
Especially me.
He handed operational control to a professional executive and retained only a board seat.
When Daniel asked why, Adrian apparently said:
I spent half my life believing I had to control everything before it could leave me.
I’m trying something else.
Then, one rainy Tuesday, Professor Hale entered my office.
“There’s someone downstairs.”
“Who?”
“He wouldn’t come up without permission.”
I knew before Thomas said the name.
“Adrian.”
My pulse changed.
“Why is he here?”
“He said he has something that belongs to you.”
I almost refused.
Then curiosity won.
Adrian waited outside the building.
No security.
No driver.
Just Adrian.
He handed me a battered cardboard box.
Inside were the original notebooks from our Chicago storage room.
My conference badges.
My father’s telescope eyepiece.
And my doctoral-defense photograph.
“I found more things in the house.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
Then turned to leave.
“Adrian.”
He stopped.
I hated myself a little for asking.
“How are you?”
He looked surprised.
“Learning.”
“That bad?”
A small smile.
“Usually.”
Then he reached into his coat.
“I almost forgot.”
He handed me an envelope.
Inside were signed divorce papers.
His signature already there.
My heart stopped.
“I thought you said you hadn’t given up.”
“I haven’t.”
“Then why sign?”
He met my eyes.
“Because loving you doesn’t give me the right to make leaving difficult.”
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Adrian walked away.
I looked down at the papers.
He had given me exactly what I once wanted him to understand.
May you like
Freedom.
And for the first time since our separation, I wasn’t completely certain what I wanted to do with it.
