Chapter 4 I'm Expelling You

Stacey tugged at the man's sleeve and said with a hint of grievance, "Rylie was late because she was in a bad mood. You should go and plead with Professor Powell on her behalf. If she's kicked out of this project, how will she maintain her reputation at school? No professor would risk taking her on, and she'd never graduate."

Even as she spoke, excitement flickered in Stacey's eyes, barely masked by her sympathetic tone. The prospect of Rylie's downfall was almost too delicious to hide. If Rylie really got expelled, surely she would have no choice but to come back pleading.

But the scene didn't play out the way Stacey had hoped. Rylie's answer was blunt and left no room for argument. "That's perfect. I never intended to stick around. I'm out of the project. I already sent my withdrawal report to Professor Powell this morning. Tell him to approve it."

Her trip here wasn't for the team - it was to collect her carefully developed Nexo-7 compound, the key ingredient that she had been growing for months for a rare genetic remedy.

Stacey's face faltered at that. "You're quitting the group?"

Without missing a beat, Rylie nodded and stepped past them, but Stacey's grip shot out, latching onto her wrist.

"Please don't let impulse get the better of you, Rylie! We're nearly done with this phase, and the medical competition's coming up. This isn't just about you - there's a team counting on you! You can't just walk away."

The man cast Stacey a critical look. "You shouldn't give her special treatment just because you're related, Stacey."

Rylie turned her gaze on Stacey, arching a brow. "Is your concern for me genuine, or is this just another act?"

"Absolutely, I am really concerned," Stacey insisted, nodding eagerly.

The urge to laugh nearly escaped Rylie, her tone laced with derision. "Be serious. You've seen what your team can do even with my help - and it's not much. Six months, and you haven't achieved a thing. You're all lost causes, so of course I'm leaving."

Everything about the research group's progress came down to Rylie - her organization, her direction, her experimental designs. Without her, Timothy's grand ambitions in clinical medicine and AI were just wishful thinking. The others fumbled through experiments, never getting close to real breakthroughs.

With a dismissive snort, Rylie reached out and tapped Stacey's cheek, her words cold. "Don't fool yourself. You're not family, and I'm not here to babysit incompetence in the lab."

A surge of tears filled Stacey's eyes, her voice tight with shock. Ever since Rylie had been shown the door at home, she had turned into someone unrecognizable - brazen, stubborn, completely unwilling to listen. It drove Stacey mad.

"Rylie! Don't flatter yourself - the research doesn't revolve around you. You wouldn't even be part of this team if Stacey hadn't vouched for you in the first place!" Patience snapping, the man lunged at Rylie, intending to shove her aside.

But Rylie moved first, gripping his wrist and twisting it sharply.

"Ah!" A cry of pain erupted from him as he doubled over, hand clutching his now-dislocated arm, disbelief written all over his face.

Rylie merely dusted off her hands and shot the group a cold glance. "Aren't you all future doctors? Surely setting a joint isn't beyond your skills."

Without wasting another word, she brushed past them, entered the lab through the open doors, and collected her prized compound. While inside, she fed the latest core AI research notes into the shredder, ensuring that her work would not be stolen.

Moments later, Rylie stepped back out, vial in hand, just as Timothy stormed into the hallway.

One glance at the scene - a student whimpering, the others shaken - and Timothy's anger boiled over. He jabbed a finger at Rylie. "You're always scraping by in class, using the lab for naps, and now you're assaulting your own teammates? Do you honestly believe my research team has any need for someone like you? From now on, you're no longer a member of the team! And I-"

Growing impatient, Rylie interjected, "Didn't you read my email? I already sent in my resignation."

Timothy hesitated, then fumbled for his phone and scanned his inbox. Sure enough, there was Rylie's formal withdrawal. He scoffed, shaking his head as if the idea was ridiculous, "You must be out of your mind, Rylie. Do you know how many students would kill for a place on my team? Let me make this clear: you don't get to quit - I'm expelling you. I'll post the official notice on the university website for everyone to see."

Timothy had expected her to back down, maybe beg for another chance. But he had clearly misjudged her resolve.

Rylie shrugged, tossing out a dismissive, "Whatever," and was halfway out the door when sudden shouts erupted nearby.

A frantic voice cut through the noise. "Somebody just collapsed!"

Instinct overriding her exit, Rylie pivoted toward the commotion. A small knot of medical students clustered around the person sprawled on the floor. She wasted no time barking instructions. "Give him space - don't crowd, let some air in."

These were all medical students, and certainly, they knew this knowledge. Immediately, they stepped back, forming a loose circle.

Dropping to one knee, Rylie sized up the unconscious man. His face, pale but striking, caught her attention for only a second before her hands moved to assess his condition. Her fingers quickly found his trachea - shifted, not where it should be. She was about to examine his chest when Timothy charged onto the scene, voice booming. "Out of the way! Let me through!"

Without hesitating, Rylie grabbed her portable medical kit, but Timothy shouted at her, "You have no business treating anyone! You're just an inexperienced student, not a doctor!"

Stacey hustled over, siding with Timothy. "Rylie, listen to Professor Powell. If something goes wrong, it's on you. He's the expert here, not you."