The lab was filled with the hum of activity as about a dozen researchers worked tirelessly, all dressed in their standard white coats. They were scattered around, engrossed in their tasks, their faces showing the stress of their work. Each of them wore a look of frustration, brows furrowed in concentration, struggling with their experiments. One researcher, holding a vial filled with a yellowish, almost clear liquid, grimaced as he poured it into the waste bin. "Why does this keep failing? When will it stop?" he muttered to himself. Nearby, a colleague shook his head. "We've been working overtime for a month now. No matter what we do, nothing's working. We're following Dr. Dennis's method exactly, but every attempt ends in failure. Is his approach even worth following?" Another researcher, her voice edged with panic, added, "If we don't get this drug right, we'll keep hearing about it. And when Mr. Dean comes back, if we're still stuck, we might not have jobs much longer." A fourth researcher, glancing nervously at the door, whispered, "Keep it down. Dr. Dennis might hear you. That could be trouble for all of us." Just then, the lab door creaked open, and Addison walked in. The room fell silent for a moment as the team looked up at the woman in the lab coat, her face obscured by a mask that only allowed her intense eyes to show. Even through the mask, it was clear she had striking features. The researchers exchanged quick glances, sighed in unison, and went back to their work without further acknowledgement. It was an all-too-familiar scene—people often came and went in the lab, dropping off supplies, so no one thought much of her presence. Right now, the focus was solely on the drug formula, with everyone hoping to finish their work before it was too late. Addison's eyes swept across the lab, noting the familiar setup that hadn't changed in three years. It was nearly identical to the school lab where she had spent so much time working. The similarity was almost eerie, especially since she had not been back to Raven's lab since Harvey's accident. After that, she had set up her own private lab at home. There, she spent endless hours, conducting experiment after experiment, rarely taking breaks for food or rest. Harvey had always been by her side, even learning pharmaceutical techniques to keep her company. He wanted to be involved in her world, to experience both the triumphs and the struggles of her work. He wanted to be part of her life in every way possible. But what Harvey didn't realize was that the beauty, joy, and even the sorrow in her world existed because of him. All he had to do was stand beside her ... and simply be a part of it.The image of a fading sunset, its light sinking into the horizon, once again filled her thoughts. "Just leave the materials on that table," a researcher said, noticing Addison standing in a daze. Snapping out of her reverie, Addison nodded. "Got it," she replied, moving toward the table. As she placed the materials down, she saw that the researchers had already returned to their work, their heads bent over their tasks, not sparing her a second glance. Addison took a slow breath and began scanning the data laid out on the desk in front of her. The drug that Raven was developing targeted lung cancer, a deadly disease with one of the highest mortality rates. The majority of these cases were non-small cell lung cancer (NSCLC), and designing an effective treatment for late-stage NSCLC was no small feat. Addison flipped through the documents, her eyes darting over petri dishes with various cultures, some growing vigorously, others only showing minimal progress. The sight of discarded experiments piled up near the test tanks was a clear sign of the many failed attempts that had preceded this moment. Picking up one of the failed samples, she placed it under a microscope for a closer inspection. Grabbing a nearby data sheet, she quickly compared it with the sample and pinpointed the problem. Raven's formula was following the same outdated method, relying on the Western approach to drug development. Gemcitabine and cisplatin were being used as the foundation, but the formula was off. The ratio wasn't right. "Another failure!" a researcher cursed, throwing the new reagent into the waste tank with frustration. "Allow me," Addison said softly, noticing the exhaustion written on the researcher's face. The researcher looked at her, disbelief evident in his eyes. "You? What are you doing here? You're just the delivery person! Don't make things worse for us! Just drop off the materials and go. We've got work to do." The others glanced up, annoyance clear on their faces. "Yeah, hurry up and leave. Don't cause any more problems." Addison's voice remained calm, her tone firm. "I can handle it." They laughed derisively. "Do you even know what this is for? Did you even go to college?" These researchers had been at Raven for years and had never encountered anyone so brazen. It wasn't the confidence that bothered them, but the sheer audacity of someone so clearly unfamiliar with the complexities of their work acting like an expert. Addison raised an eyebrow, but didn't waste her time arguing. She stepped forward, ready to take the reagent bottle. Before she could reach it, a middle-aged man stepped in, blocking her path. "Little girl, this isn't a game. We're working with people's livelihoods here. If something goes wrong, no one is going to take responsibility. Don't make it worse," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. Just as Addison moved to grab the bottle, Lewis swiftly snatched it away, a mocking smile on his face. "Exactly, these tools and chemicals are dangerous. If something goes wrong, you might get hurt—sometimes they even explode. It could scar your face," he said, smirking. "Stay in your lane. I know you are jealous we have high salaries, but that doesn't mean you can just jump in and mess with things. Do you even have the qualifications to be messing with this stuff?" he sneered. Addison's lips curled into a faint smile. "Is that so?" It was understandable that they didn't trust her—they didn't know who she was, and she hadn't revealed her identity as an expert in the field. Some of them were genuinely trying to warn her, which she appreciated, but their reactions didn't surprise her. She locked eyes with Lewis, still holding the reagent bottle, and said calmly, "The bottle you're holding? It's azidocarbamate. And judging by your position, standing directly in the sunlight, I'm sure you can guess what might happen next. Do you really think it won't explode in your face?" Lewis froze, his heart racing as he looked down at the bottle in his hand. Only now did he see the label—azidocarbamate. In his hurry, he had missed the warning signs. "Who left this azidocarbamate just lying around?" he said, panic creeping into his voice as he quickly returned the bottle to its proper place. "Do you really understand pharmaceuticals?" Lewis asked, obviously shocked.