I Was His Wife, Then His Widow, Then No One's But My Own novel Chapter 11

Early the next morning, Nora woke up at Mrs. Vance's house, quickly freshened up, changed into clean clothes, and headed out the door.

She hadn't slept well, faint dark circles marking the skin under her eyes, but her energy levels were manageable. Mrs. Vance had prepared breakfast, so she hastily ate a few bites before rushing to the Institute.

The Institute looked the same as always. When Nora pushed the door open, there were already people in the large lab at the end of the hallway. The door was left ajar, and a few people were huddled together chatting. Although their voices were low, the hallway was quiet, allowing her to hear every word clearly.

"I heard someone is dropping into our institute out of nowhere."

"Who?" someone asked, confused. "Given the state of our institute right now, someone is actually parachuting in?"

"Not sure. Sounds like they have connections from the top and come with quite the background."

"Exactly. With things the way they are, parachuting in? For what? Padding their resume?"

"Of course. There's an international forum next month. They're just coming to get their name on it so their track record looks good later."

Another person lowered their voice. "Professor Vance is in poor health, so he probably couldn't stop it even if he tried."

Nora paused at the corner of the hallway, rooted to the spot.

She hadn't heard her mentor or Mrs. Vance mention this yesterday. The Institute's funding had been completely cut off, and their projects were at a standstill. At a time like this, someone dropping in out of nowhere had an obvious motive: they were after the coveted lecture spot at the forum.

She didn't dwell on it, pushing the door open and walking into the lab.

Seeing her, the group immediately dropped the subject, smiling and greeting her warmly. Nora offered a polite smile in return, walking over to her old desk and sitting down to organize the files scattered across it.

She didn't care if someone parachuted in. The lecture spot had always been based on fair competition. She never felt entitled to hoard the opportunity just because she was Xavier Vance's student. If someone else wanted it, they could come and try to take it; it would all come down to skill.

Her desk was piled high with old files, mostly experimental data logs from last year and this year, some already covered in a thin layer of dust.

Nora flipped through them one by one, sorting and organizing them in chronological order.

Just then, her phone chimed. She thought it was a call from someone.

She glanced down at the screen, her fingers pausing, her heart instinctively skipping a beat.

It wasn't a call. It was an alarm.

The screen read: *Prepare Cassie's lunch.*

Nora stared at those words for a few seconds, feeling a faint, prickling sting in her chest.

It was an alarm she had set years ago, ringing reliably at ten o'clock every morning without fail, reminding her to prepare her daughter's lunch nearly two hours in advance.

Because Cassie ate at half past eleven, she had to prepare it early. Cassie had a weak constitution and severe dietary restrictions. Nora couldn't trust outside food, so she cooked every single meal from scratch.

The ingredients had to be perfectly fresh, the oil and salt strictly controlled, and the vegetables finely diced into tiny cubes so Cassie could easily chew them.

She usually started washing and chopping vegetables just past nine, packed the insulated lunchbox, and headed out the door to ensure it was delivered to the kindergarten before eleven-thirty. Only then could Cassie enjoy a hot meal that she had painstakingly crafted.

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