Sharp chemical fumes filled the whole lab, stinging every breath so bad you could taste it at the back of your throat.
The high-tech fire alarms had stopped blaring ten minutes ago, but the red warning lights still blinked slow and steady above every door, marking exactly where the trouble started.
It was small—just one workbench, one corner of the room—but it had ruined three full months of nonstop work.
Lexy Eileithyia Montezor Saint-Woodsen stood right in the middle of the mess, her presence alone making the air feel heavier.
Her copper-red hair was pulled tight in a high ponytail, no loose strands out of place, and the hem of her crisp white lab coat was smudged with black ash and faint brown chemical stains.
She held her hands so tight at her sides her knuckles turned pale white, and her jaw was set so hard you could see the muscle jump under her skin.
Her voice was low, sharp, and biting—every word deliberate, like she was cutting glass instead of just talking to people.
"Let me say this one time, very slowly, so none of you have any excuse to mess it up," she said, stepping closer to the three scientists who stood shaking in front of her.
They kept their eyes fixed on the floor, too scared to look her in the face. "You mixed the main active ingredient for the hypertension drug with the wrong solvent. You skipped the mandatory pre-reaction temperature check—the one I wrote into the protocol myself. And you didn't notice the mixture boiling over and smoking until the whole beaker was already black. Tama ba ako? Is that exactly what happened?"
One of them nodded fast, his hands trembling so bad his ID lanyard rattled against his chest. "Ms. Saint-Woodsen—we—we just thought the temperature would stabilize on its own—"
"You thought?" Lexy cut her off, her eyes narrowing cold. "You don't get to think here. You follow rules. Rules that exist so you don't destroy millions of pesos worth of research and almost burn down an entire facility. I taught this exact safety protocol in my master's class. I wrote the manual you all signed when you joined this team. And you skipped it for what? Dahil sa katamaran? Carelessness? Or wala lang talaga kayong pakialam sa rules?"
She gestured sharply at the charred workbench, where melted glass and burnt residue still stained the stainless steel surface. "That was our final trial. The one we've been rushing for six weeks to finish. Tatlong buwan 'yun! Three months of testing, adjusting, redoing, all gone in five minutes because you couldn't be bothered to check a number on a screen. And if this lab didn't have the fastest fire suppression system in the country? You could have blown up the whole west wing."
"Ms. Saint-Woodsen, we're so sorry—"
"Sorry doesn't fix anything," Lexy snapped, her voice rising just enough to make them flinch. "Sorry doesn't bring back the data we lost. Sorry doesn't undo the delays for the patients waiting for this medicine. There is no excuse. Pack your things. All three of you. You're fired effective immediately. Security will walk you out, and you will hand over all your access cards before you step through that door. And don't bother applying to any Saint-Woodsen company, any Van Amstel project, or any partner firm we work with ever again. I'll make sure your names never get past the first screening."
None of them dared argue. They just bowed their heads, mumbled quiet apologies they knew she wouldn't hear, and hurried away as fast as they could without running. Lexy watched them go, her expression unreadable, until the lab doors slid shut behind them.
She pulled out her phone and dialed Addie, her older sister and the calmest person she knew. Addie picked up on the second ring.
"Little sis? What's wrong? You sound like you're about to explode—"
