In my previous life, after I died, there was only one person who stood up for me—Jason. He went everywhere defending me, telling others I had been wronged. While everyone else either remained silent or jumped to conclusions, he alone spoke the truth.
Now, back in this life, I watched Luther continue to play his role perfectly, wearing the mask of concern and sincerity. He turned to me, eyes full of feigned innocence.
“Team Leader Cole, what do you mean by this? Are you suggesting we stole your data?”
His voice was calm, but underneath, I could hear the veiled threat, the implication that I was the irrational one.
Immediately, the rest of the team turned to me, their expressions twisted in anger and contempt.
“Team Leader Cole, you clearly don't have the capability to match Junior Grant’s data. And now you’re slandering us? How can you accuse us of stealing for him?” someone said sharply.
I didn’t respond. I simply changed my clothes in silence and locked the laboratory doors. My face was expressionless, but inside, I was burning.
I knew without a doubt that the data had been leaked, or worse, that Luther had somehow obtained it using underhanded means. Otherwise, there was no way he could repeatedly present the exact results I had worked so hard to develop.
So, this time, I decided to shut the lab down completely—no access, no exceptions. I wanted to see if he could still "coincidentally" come up with the same results without anyone feeding him information.
For five straight days, Jason and I worked in isolation, pouring every ounce of energy into the project. With zero interference, we pushed ahead in the R&D phase. Finally, we succeeded. We developed a concept model of the intelligent robot, capable of distinguishing voices, identifying hosts from guests, and processing unfamiliar speech with adaptive response. It was a real breakthrough.
When I opened the lab door, exhausted but relieved, I was ready to show everyone what we had achieved. But instead of admiration, I was met with mockery and smirks.
My chest tightened. A sense of unease crept over me.
Then came Luther’s smug voice. “Team Leader Cole, I just released the data from this development stage. Don’t you think it’s a bit late to present it now? In science, it’s not just about hard work—it’s about efficiency.”
I froze. Shock flooded through me. I looked around and saw a few colleagues who had once supported me now avoiding my gaze. Some looked at me with pity. Others didn’t bother hiding their scorn.
How? The lab had been sealed. The data had been generated solely through the experiments Jason and I had performed. There had been no chance of any leak. Yet somehow, Luther had still released the same numbers—down to the decimal point.
I was completely dumbfounded.
Then, as if delivering the final blow, Luther chuckled and waved to the group. “You’ve all worked hard. Let’s celebrate tonight at The Mill Bar—no one goes home until they’re drunk!”
“Junior Brother, it’s not us who worked hard—it’s all you! We should be the ones thanking you!” someone said eagerly.
“You’re too humble. We’re a team, right? My success is everyone’s success,” he replied, throwing me a condescending glance.
Then he added with a smirk, “Team Leader, you called me yesterday asking for the data, and I sent it over out of courtesy. I know you want to contribute, but talent is a gift. No matter how jealous you are, you can’t fake it or take it.”
His words struck like daggers. My mind was spinning. Then I heard her voice—my girlfriend, Claire Bennett.
“Ethan Cole, as the team leader, how could you use your authority to pressure others for results?” she snapped. “I told you Luther has real talent, but you ignored him.”
She looked at me as if I were nothing more than an embarrassment. “You’re making such a big scene just to take credit for someone else’s work?”
I opened my mouth to speak, to defend myself, but she cut me off coldly.
“Enough. I’ve seen what you’re capable of—or rather, what you’re not. If I’d known this, I wouldn’t have recommended Junior Brother for the project.”
Then, as if delivering a final verdict, she said, “From now on, let Junior Brother Luther take full charge of the R&D. You can assist where needed.”
Cheers erupted around them. Everyone gathered around Luther, showering him with praise and laughter.
I stood there, alone, drowning in silence.
Grabbing my hair in frustration, I felt as if my thoughts were collapsing in on themselves. I couldn’t figure out how he got the data—unless he had used some underhanded, possibly even technological means to steal it.
From that moment forward, everything changed.
No one respected me anymore. The staff no longer spoke politely. Even Mr. John, our project head, began to treat me coldly. If it weren’t for my father’s reputation and connections, I was certain he would have already removed me from the position of team leader.
But this time, I would not let it end the same way. I had been given a second life—for a reason.
And I wasn’t going to waste it.
