Chapter 2

June Mitchell POV

The empty mansion had no lights on.

I sat on the sofa, looking at the crumpled lawyer's letter on the table.

It stated clearly that if I didn't cooperate with a public apology, Sinclair's legal department would prosecute me for "destruction of computer information systems."

And they would use that as grounds to strip me of custody.

He'd even prepared forged evidence. IP addresses, login records, everything was flawless.

This was the man I'd loved for ten years.

Ten years ago, Ethan was an illegitimate son abandoned by his family with nothing to his name.

I was the one who sat with him in that basement eating instant noodles, using a secondhand computer to code the initial framework for Sinclair Tech.

Back then, Ethan held me from behind, his chin resting in the crook of my neck, his voice hoarse as he made a promise.

"June, once I take back what belongs to me, I'll make you the happiest woman in the world. My life, my Sinclair Group, half of it is yours."

Later, he succeeded. He kept me hidden behind the scenes, saying it was to protect me from family power struggles.

I believed him and hid behind him, becoming his shadow, becoming his sharpest weapon.

Until two years ago, when Ethan brought home his friend's sister, eighteen-year-old Sadie.

At first, he said he was just taking care of her like a sister. But gradually, he came home less and less.

He would abandon our feverish son on a stormy night because Sadie said she was "afraid of the dark."

He would bid a hundred million at an auction just to buy one of Sadie's casual doodles.

I tried to confront him, but each time I was met with Ethan's mockery. "June Mitchell, why have you become like a madwoman? Sadie is young and has no parents. What's wrong with me taking care of her?"

Actually, I knew Ethan understood perfectly well.

Sadie was like an exotic pet that provided fresh emotional value, bringing him long-lost excitement and relaxation.

Meanwhile, I was air, water, the foundation he couldn't do without.

He craved Sadie's youth and vitality but never considered shaking my position as Mrs. Sinclair.

He always thought that since I'd loved him for ten years, no matter how much he played around outside, as long as he came home in the end, I would always be waiting in the same place.

"Mommy..."

A weak call interrupted my thoughts.

Five-year-old Atlas rubbed his sleepy eyes and walked down from upstairs, hugging an old stuffed bear. The little one had been premature, so his health was always fragile, his face perpetually pale.

"Why is Atlas awake?" I immediately hid the despair in my eyes and put on a gentle smile, walking over to hold my son in my arms.

"Mommy, you cried." Atlas reached out with his soft little hand and touched the cut on my cheek, his big eyes full of heartache. "Did Daddy bully you again? Atlas doesn't like Daddy anymore. Daddy is a bad man."

Those words stabbed into my heart like a sharp knife.

Even a five-year-old child could see he didn't love me anymore. What was I still hoping for?

"Mommy's fine. I just accidentally scratched myself." I held my son tightly, feeling the warmth from the little person in my arms, my eyes gradually becoming cold and resolute.

Ethan thought he'd found my weakness, thought he could force me to submit by using our son, force me to bow my head to the woman who destroyed my family.

He was wrong.

I, June Mitchell, had never been a puppet under his control. If I could create Sinclair's AI core, I could destroy it with my own hands.

My phone screen suddenly lit up with an anonymous text message.

"Miss Mitchell, Ethan got drunk tonight and kept holding my hand, wouldn't let me leave. He said being with you every day feels like carrying out a mission, so boring it suffocates him. Only when he's with me does he feel like a real person."

Immediately following was a photo.

In dim lighting, Ethan lay on a hotel bed, his collar slightly open, Sadie's face pressed against his chest, and Ethan's hand tightly around Sadie's waist.

In the bottom right corner of the photo, you could see the Rolex on Ethan's wrist, the one Sadie had given him.

The watch I'd given him, engraved with our initials, had long since disappeared.

I looked at the photo without crying, without even feeling angry.

I calmly deleted the message and then opened my computer, entering an extremely complex URL of random characters.

The screen instantly went black, then a blood-red countdown interface appeared with only an input box in the center.

This was the internal communication channel for a national classified project, "Deep Space Program."

Two weeks ago, my mentor, also a member of the National Space Agency, had secretly contacted me, inviting me to join this top-secret project aimed at exploring deep-space AI autonomous defense systems.

Once I joined, I would enter a secret underground base with no contact with the outside world for ten years. My identity would even be deleted from the national information registration system.

The person "June Mitchell" would completely "die" in this world.

At the time, I couldn't bear to leave Ethan and our son, so I refused.

Now, I had no hesitation. I typed my response in the input box:

"I agree to join. Only condition: I'm bringing my son."