Rebirth: Love me Again

To build a true powerhouse in the world of nanotech, QuantumLyfe couldn't just scrape by—it needed to tower over its competitors. We needed a bigger building, cutting-edge research facilities, and resources that would dwarf even our boldest dreams.

A billion dollars was an incredible start, but deep down, I knew it was only a drop in the ocean. Sinclair's investment was the opening shot, the first wave.

As soon as we launched, there would be no stopping us. Investors would flock to our door, seeing the undeniable proof of our success.

QuantumLyfe wouldn't just be another tech company—it would be

the

name in nanotechnology, the face of a revolution that would redefine science, medicine, and even life itself.

And I was ready to ride that wave straight to the top.

It wasn't just a random act of generosity—it was a calculated move, a bold decision based on what he had just witnessed.

Michael had proven something extraordinary today. His nanotechnology had saved a life, and not just any life—Sebastian, the dog that was practically Sinclair's only remaining family after the passing of his wife. No offense to his children.

Anyone with half a brain could see the potential. If Michael's technology could save a dying animal, what could it do for people? The investment wasn't reckless—it was a first step into a future that could change everything.

"Grandpa, don't you want to wait until Sebastian fully recovers before you make such a huge investment?" I teased, though I knew the answer.

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Sinclair didn't even glance at me. His eyes were still locked on the building as if he could already see the future unfolding in front of him. "You've invested in this place, haven't you?" he asked, his voice low but serious.

I blinked, caught off guard. "Yeah," I admitted, tilting my head. "But are you basing your decision just on that? My investment?"

Sinclair finally turned his eyes back to me, and for the first time, I saw something different in them—a kind of trust, a belief in something beyond money and power.

"I know what you've been doing these past few months," he said quietly, his words filled with meaning. "I know you've got good instincts. I trust you."

I was taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. Sinclair, the man who was as ruthless in business as he was affectionate with his dog, was trusting me—my judgment, my choices.

I chuckled softly, trying to mask the sudden warmth in my chest. "Are you sure it's not just some whimsical teenage girl trying to play investor?" I teased, though my voice was gentler this time.

Sinclair's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "Even if it was, I wouldn't bet against you."

He said it so matter-of-factly, but it hit me hard. For a man who ruled his empire with an iron will, this moment—this bond we were forming—felt like a shift in both of us.

I could feel the weight of his words settling into something deeper. For the first time, we weren't just strangers connected with mutual benefits; we were allies in something bigger.

"By the way," I grinned, trying to keep my tone casual. "If you're planning to invest in this, you might want your money back. I've already amassed the amount we agreed on ahead of time."

I expected relief, maybe even joy from Sinclair, but his expression was anything but. No smile of satisfaction crossed his face, no glimmer of relief for not having been scammed. Instead, there was something else—something like . . . disappointment? Sadness, even.

"What's this?" I chuckled, feeling a little uneasy. "Aren't you glad I didn't run off with the ten million? I've returned it, along with that 990 million interest you were so worried about. Plus, I think that extra billion you're about to invest here will make up for it."

Sinclair took a deep breath, his gaze on me. "In truth," he began, his tone serious, "I didn't believe for a second that you would return that huge amount of money in such a short time."

I folded my arms, eyebrows raised. "What, you doubted my capabilities?" I jabbed, trying to keep the moment light.

He smirked slightly. "Who would believe a teenager's word? You had no remarkable talents in investments before."

I narrowed my eyes. "So why did you lend me the money if you knew there was a risk?"

"Call it intuition," Sinclair said, his eyes studying me, "and curiosity. Like you said, ten million is just spare change to me, compared to the amusement you would bring in earning that large sum of money."

I rolled my eyes, feeling a strange warmth building inside. "Well, now that we're here, I'll transfer the money back to you. Then our deal will be sealed, and I'll finally be free."

But Sinclair didn't look relieved. He didn't even look interested. In fact, there was a clear reluctance in his expression. "What's the rush?" he asked, his voice laced with something I couldn't quite place. "Are you that eager to cut ties with our family?"

I paused, caught off guard by the disappointment I heard in his voice. "I'm not really your granddaughter, Sinclair. I don't belong here. I'm just an orphan you picked up somewhere, and I think I've already sacrificed enough for your family. Now, I want my freedom. Besides," I added with a bitter smile, "I'm sure Sullivan and Sophia will be glad to see me gone before Sophie's grand eighteenth birthday."

Sinclair didn't respond. He just looked at me, his silence heavy, almost accusing.

I didn't understand why he was hesitating. This was the perfect opportunity to settle everything and walk away clean. "Look," I said, trying to break the tension, "I hope you'll stick to the end of our deal. I've gone through too much trouble to gather this much money."

Sinclair scoffed, a cold smirk forming on his lips. "I may be many things, but I've never backed out of a deal."

"Good," I said, relieved, and quickly logged into my account.

But as the screen loaded, my heart plummeted. The balance that should have shown a billion, hard-earned money, meticulously accumulated over months, was gone.

All of it.

A single, glaring number stared back at me—$0.74.

My hands went cold. My pulse quickened, the world narrowing into that unforgiving screen. Had I been hacked? Stolen from? My thoughts spiraled, blood rushing to my head so fast it made everything throb. I blinked, hoping it was some kind of error. This couldn't be real.

It *

couldn't

be real.

Sinclair's voice became a muffled hum. I could hear Victor too, but everything felt far away, as if I was underwater.

"Eve?" Sinclair's voice broke through the haze, but I couldn't focus.

"Eve, what's wrong?"

My vision blurred, and my head pounded, each throb more painful than the last.

"Eve!" Michael's voice shot through, sharp with concern. "What's happening?!"

But before I could answer, everything went black, and the world vanished beneath me.

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