The Secret Scientist She Called A Thief

The news of my ex-wife and daughter, after my second chance at life, came via a call from an unfamiliar number.
Hello, who is this?
My voice must have triggered something, because the person on the other end immediately burst into an excited response.
Daddy, Maisie misses you so much! When are you going to come see Mommy and me?
We have a big field day next month, and you havent been to one of my school sports in ages.
I kept my expression blank, my rejection swift and cold.
Dont you have a better dad now?
Go ask your new father for help.
I hung up without another word, then turned the phone off.
1
I will never forget the day my wife was reclaimed by her old-money family. I was in our cramped studio apartment, packing a small, worn suitcase.
She saw me and frowned, her eyes sharp.
Put that down. Im only taking Graham and Maisie. Youll stay here for now, in the old side of the city.
Ill send you a five hundred dollar a month allowance, and Ill make time for you to see Maisie.
I nodded calmly. No scene, no argument.
Id known for a long time that she would only take The Golden Boy and my daughter.
In my previous life, Id followed them, clawing and begging my way into the Ashford estate.
I thought I could finally enjoy some security.
Instead, The Golden BoyGrahamframed me for theft.
And my own daughter coaxed me out to the eighteenth-floor balcony and pushed me off. I remember her eyes, red-rimmed and spitting fire, as I fell.
I dont want a thief for a father! If you hadnt insisted on coming home with us, I would have had a better dad sooner!
In that moment, Id plunged into an icy hell.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back.
Lying on my phone screen was a text message from a top-secret government research division.
Mr. Kinsley, we are pleased to inform you of your immediate recruitment. Please note: Upon induction, you are forbidden from contact with any outside parties for a period of five years.
I had two days left before I was due to surrender myselfmy life, my futureto the state.
But the night I moved into a discreet rental box, seeking anonymity, the door was kicked in.
Vivienne Ashford stood in the entryway, her white designer suit soaked with rain, her face as dark as the storm clouds.
Behind her, holding an umbrella, was Graham Alistair. And clinging to his hand was my daughter, Maisie.
Graham stepped forward, his expression a mixture of feigned sympathy and righteous anger.
Rhys, I know youre upset, but you cant steal my mothers locket. It was the only thing I had left of her
The blood in my veins turned to ice.
I realized this was the exact same script, the same toxic, manipulative scene from the life I was supposed to have escaped.
I fought the tremor in my hands, trying to speak, to stop them
But the bodyguards were already tearing through my meager belongings.
They reached into a hidden pocket in the bottom of my travel bag and pulled out a delicate silver chain with a pendant.
Vivienne held the necklace up, and the look of pure disgust in her eyes threatened to flay me alive.
A chilling clarity washed over me.
It couldnt be...
It was Graham.
In both lives, he had planned this. He had made sure I was ready to be loathed by everyone I loved.
Viviennes voice was lethal.
Caught red-handed, Rhys Kinsley. For the sake of our history, Im giving you a chance to confess.
Confess?
I raised my head, forcing back the tears.
I was only two days away from a completely new life.
Im not guilty. What is there to confess?
The finality in my tone only stoked Viviennes fury. She barked a command toward the door.
Make him confess!
Two hulking men immediately rushed in and seized me, one on each side.
One of them pressed down hard on the back of my neck, the crushing force driving me into a humiliating bow before Graham.
Kneel and apologize! Viviennes icy voice commanded from above.
I clenched my jaw, fighting with every ounce of strength I had.
It wasnt me! Vivienne, I wont apologize!
But the bodyguards hand was an iron clamp. He slammed my head down hard onto the rough concrete floor.
Thud!
The sharp, searing pain exploded across my forehead.
Apologize, Vivienne ordered.
I didnt I managed to choke out.
Thud!
Another blow, harder this time.
I felt the warm, sticky flow of blood beginning to run down my face.
Maisies small, tearful voice piped up.
Daddy, just confess. Maisie is scared
My daughters plea tore at my heart.
She didn't know.
Every time she called me Daddy, it was another piece of shrapnel in my shattered soul.
In the past life, as I was shoved from the rooftop, I couldnt understand why the daughter Id cherished for ten years trusted a man who was no blood relation over me.
Viviennes voice was thick with derision.
See? Even your own daughter is ashamed of you.
Thud! The third time.
My vision blurred.
Blood and sweat mixed, dripping onto the cold floor.
Graham made a show of stepping forward.
Vivienne, enough Perhaps Rhys was just confused for a moment
Confused? I think hes incorrigible!
The bodyguard grabbed my head again, but I fought to raise it, locking eyes with Graham.
I did nothing wrong!
Vivienne completely snapped.
Still fighting me?! Keep going! Dont stop until he admits it!
It was then that Maisie suddenly ran forward and kicked my shoulder with all her small might.
Youre a thief! Im never going to call you Dad again! Maisie hates you!
The kick wasnt physically severe, but it froze me completely. I forgot how to struggle.
My own daughter.
While I was being framed and brutally forced to my knees, she didnt just fail to believe me; she delivered the final blow.
This is what a dead heart feels like.
Vivienne seemed momentarily shocked by Maisies action and waved her hand. The bodyguards released their grip.
I collapsed onto the ground, blood still streaming from my forehead.
She stepped up to me, rain dripping from her hair.
Rhys Kinsley. For Maisies sake, if you just admit your mistake and apologize to Graham, Ill let this go.
I raised my head, staring at her through my blood-smeared vision. Then at the innocent-faced Graham behind her, and finally at my daughter, who was looking at me like a stranger.
I smiled, a thin line of red spilling from the corner of my mouth.
I did nothing wrong.
And I will never apologize to Graham Alistair!
I fixed my stare on Graham as I spoke the last three words, each one ringing with final, defiant certainty.
Vivienne flew into a rage.
Stubborn fool! Drag him outside and make him kneel in the mud! He doesnt get up until he confesses!
I was roughly hauled out into the yard and thrown down into the freezing mud.
The storm raged, the torrential rain washing over the wound on my forehead, the pain searing cold.
Behind me, I heard Grahams soft, concerned voice.
Vivienne, its pouring. Maybe let Rhys come inside
And Maisies childish question.
Mommy, when will the bad thief finally confess?
Followed by Viviennes cold response.
Its his own fault.
The thief? His own fault?
The physical pain was a dull ache compared to the agony in my chest.
The sounds faded, and I finally sank into unconsciousness.
The smell of antiseptic stung my nose.
I woke with a shuddering jolt of agony.
Above me, the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room. Standing around my bed, like grim iron statues, were several emotionless men in black suits. Bodyguards.
Hes awake.
A frigid voice reached me.
I managed to turn my head with difficulty. Vivienne stood by the bed, her face stormy.
She held the necklace in her hand, her eyes devoid of warmthonly scrutiny and disgust.
She held it up. Rhys Kinsley, Im asking you one last time. Where is the real heirloom from Grahams mother? This one is a fake.
A fake?
My pupils contracted. The realization hit me like a physical blow.
Graham. His heart was pure venom.
He had used a counterfeit to solidify my guilt, ensuring that whether I confessed or not, he had a trump card.
The real necklace was probably long gone, hidden or disposed of.
He didn't just want to ruin my reputation; he wanted to destroy me completely, to make my comeback impossible.
I tried to speak, my throat dry and raspy.
I dont have it!
My chest tightened, squeezed by an invisible hand.
Why? Why, even in this second chance, could I not escape this malicious trap? Why must I bear this baseless accusation?
Vivienne stared at me, trying to gauge the truth in my eyes.
A moment later, the last sliver of patience vanished, replaced by a heavy curtain of disappointment and ruthlessness.
It seems you won't talk without persuasion.
She took a step back and gave a cold command to the bodyguards.
A thief doesn't deserve his hands. Since he wont give us the truth, break his fingers, one by one. Were in a hospital; he wont die.
I snapped my eyes open, staring at her in horror.
She wants to break my fingers?!
No! I cant!
I thrashed against the restraints, but the bodyguards held me fast.
I need my hands! The National Research Institute! My future!
My only hope of escaping this nightmare was vested in the hands I would use to manipulate delicate instruments and conduct experiments. Without them, everything would be ruined!
Vivienne Ashford! You cant!
I shrieked, desperation overriding all reason.
I didnt steal! I didnt
But she watched with cold indifference, as if observing a silent play that held no personal meaning for her.
One of the bodyguards stepped forward, grabbed my left hand, and fixed his grip on my index finger.
No! My agonizing scream tore through the sterile silence of the room.
Snap!
The sharp crack of bone breaking. The agonizing, piercing pain made my vision go black, almost dragging me into unconsciousness.
The pain. Indescribable.
But it was only a fraction of the agony in my soul.
I looked at the beautiful profile of the woman I had loved with my whole being for ten years.
Hatred, like a poisonous vine, coiled and began to grow.
I hated her! But I hated myself more! How could I have been so blind as to fall for this heartless, cold, morally bankrupt woman?
To protect her fragile ego, I had hidden my advanced degrees and my true capability, willingly becoming a stay-at-home husband, letting her believe I was ordinary.
Ten years of devotion, ten years of my life, bought me this fate.
I regretted it.
I truly regretted ever loving her.
Snap!
The second finger was broken.
Agh!
My body convulsed in agony, cold sweat instantly soaking my hospital gown.
Vivienne stood there, her face expressionless,
But I caught a fleeting glimpse of her hand at her side, her knuckles white with tension.
Does it hurt, Vivienne?
It is nothing compared to what you have inflicted on me.
Snap! Snap!
The third.
The fourth
The excruciating pain came in waves, threatening to drown my consciousness.
I bit down hard on my lip until I tasted blood, refusing to yield, refusing to confess to a crime I didn't commit.
One, two, three
When all four fingers of my left hand, excluding the thumb, were bent at unnatural angles, the bodyguard moved to my right hand.
Despair, like icy lake water, began to consume me.
My future, my dreams, shattered before my eyes.
Snap!
When the ninth finger was brutally snapped, I no longer had the strength to scream.
I was a dying fish, paralyzed on the bed, only the shallow rise and fall of my chest proving I was still alive.
Nine fingers broken, my body a ruin.
My life, too, was broken in that instant.
Yet, I had never confessed to stealing.
Vivienne looked at my pathetic form, soaked in blood and tears, at my ten monstrously swollen and misshapen fingers. Her face went pale for a split second.
She spun around, her voice betraying a hint of unnoticed hoarseness.
Call the doctor. Set them.
With that,
She fled, practically running from the room, without a single backward glance.
Doctors and nurses came in, timid and shaky, to clean the wounds and splint my broken, mangled fingers.
The fierce pain caused me to black out and wake up repeatedly until I was forced onto an oxygen mask to maintain my weak breathing.
I lay there, a broken doll on a cold slab, my mind swirling with hate, regret, and despair.
Why did I ever meet her? Why did I let my life be destroyed by this woman?
Late that night, the door to the room creaked open softly.
Two figures, one large, one small, silently approached my bedside.
It was Graham Alistair, and my daughter, Maisie.
My consciousness was foggy, but I could sense their presence.
Grahams voice was a soft, venomous whisper.
Maisie, look how sad Daddy is. Dont you want Mr. Alistair to be your real daddy? Ill buy you lots of beautiful dresses, take you to the best parks, and make you the happiest little princess.
My heart violently seized in my chest.
Then, I heard the most chilling answer of this life, and the last one.
Maisies small, clear voice was immediate and full of delight.
Yes! Maisie loves Mr. Alistair! Mr. Alistair should be my daddy!
In that moment, my heart ceased to beat.
Graham seemed pleased. He let out a low, satisfied chuckle.
But, Maisie, as long as your current daddy is still here, Mr. Alistair cant officially be your daddy, can he?
He paused, his voice like a snake uncoiling.
Look, Daddy seems to be struggling with that mask. Be a good girl, Maisie. Help Daddy take that tube off, and he wont be in pain anymore. And Mr. Alistair can be your daddy forever, okay?
I snapped my eyes wide open!
Through my blurred vision, I saw Maisies small, innocent face.
She looked at Graham, then at me. And then, she reached out her hand, straight toward my oxygen mask!
Bad Daddy! You steal things! I dont want you anymore! she mumbled, her tone echoing the hatred shed been brainwashed to feel.
Watching that small hand reach for my lifeline, seeing the pure, unadulterated disgust in my daughters eyes, I lost the final flicker of strength to fight.
My heart was cold ash.
I had been reborn only to die by their hands again, but this time in a far more humiliating and agonizing manner.
I felt the mask shift, and breathing became an immediate, desperate struggle.
I was dying.
And this time, there would be no coming back

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