The Price of His Cruel Experiment Chapter 1

Introduction

I loved Tristan for six months. For him, I even turned down an admission offer from Cambridge.

I pinched every penny and worked multiple jobs just to support him, believing that as long as we worked hard together, we could build a future.

Until that day, when I heard him tell his friends with my own ears:

"Elena was just a tool to get Lauren to break up with her boyfriend. It was just a game. Who would take her seriously?"

It turned out that his acting broke and struggling alongside me was merely a show for his adopted sister, Lauren. He wanted her to see how miserable poverty truly was, hoping to force her to leave her broke boyfriend.

And I was nothing more than his carefully selected lab rat.

When I learned the truth, I didn't cry, scream, or confront him.

Instead, I accepted an invitation from a professor at New York University, agreeing to join a five-year, strictly classified research project.

Five years from now, when I return with an entirely new identity, will he still be laughing?

Elena's POV

"Professor Miller, I've made up my mind."

Standing in the tiny rental apartment, I held my phone tightly, my voice unnervingly calm.

"I accept the classified, five-year research program."

On the other end of the line, Professor Miller, a top scholar at NYU, paused for a moment.

Once it sank in, he cautioned, "Elena, you need to think this through carefully!"

"It's a completely sealed, five-year project. Once you enter the facility, your contact with the outside world will be strictly restricted until the project ends. More importantly... what about your boyfriend, Tristan? Didn't you just turn down an offer from Cambridge for him?"

Hearing that name—once so tender, now so alien—made my eyelashes tremble. My gaze drifted to the cracked couple's mug sitting on the worn wooden desk.

I had bought it with the cash I earned handing out flyers on street corners. It only cost a few bucks, but back then, Tristan held it with a bright, dazzling smile, promising he would keep it for the rest of his life.

"It's fine... I'll settle all my personal affairs before I report. Don't worry," I said, lowering my eyes and forcing down the sharp ache in my chest. "I'll be at the facility early next month. Thank you for holding the spot for me, Professor."

I hung up. Before the screen went dark, a notification popped up.

Tristan: [Elena, I accidentally broke a piece of expensive equipment at my part-time shift today. The manager won't let me leave until I pay three hundred dollars in damages. I don't have a dime left on me. Can you wire it to me? It's an emergency!]

Reading his text, my throat tightened. I opened my banking app and checked my balance: $320.50. That was my entire living budget for the month, plus next month's rent. If I sent him three hundred, I wouldn't even know where my next meal was coming from.

Yet, I didn't hesitate. I didn't even ask for details. With numb fingers, I tapped the screen and transferred exactly three hundred dollars to him.

When the green confirmation checkmark lit up the display, my strength gave out, and I leaned back against the peeling wall.

A wave of hunger cramps twisted through my stomach, but I didn't even have the energy to stand up and pour a cup of warm water.

How pathetic. I tilted my head back, staring at the dim, yellowish bulb hanging from the ceiling. My eyes burned with dryness, but not a single tear fell.

I had truly believed he was working exhausting part-time jobs for us. I believed he was fighting beside me for our poor yet hopeful future. But what was the reality?

My mind was pulled back to three days ago.

It was pouring rain that evening. To earn an extra five bucks, I took an Uber Eats order heading to an upscale private lounge on the west side of the city. Riding through the storm, my cheap raincoat snagged on a metal railing, tearing a huge hole that let the rain pour right through. By the time I arrived, I was soaked to the bone.

Walking into the lavish lounge, I felt like a stray mutt wandering into a palace. Farther down the hallway, the door to a private VIP room was cracked open, and bursts of laughter drifted out.

I was about to knock when a voice stopped me dead in my tracks. Clear, lazy, and dripping with easy arrogance.

"Tristan, man, how much longer are you going to keep up this charade?" a man asked, laughing lightly. "Watching you cram into that dump of a studio with that broke college girl every day makes me feel bad for you. Since when does the heir to the Vance family live like a street rat?"

"Almost done," Tristan's voice replied, careless yet utterly composed. "My adopted sister, Lauren, has been fighting with that broke kid, Julian, nonstop lately. She grew up with a silver spoon; she has no concept of how brutal life is without money. If I don't get myself a cheap girlfriend and act out all the misery of being broke right in front of her, how else will she learn to back off?"

The room fell quiet for a split second before erupting into even louder laughter.

"Brilliant! Turning your own relationship into a social experiment just to scare off your sister. You're ruthless, Tristan. That Elena girl is so damn unlucky, picked as your lab rat. But seriously..."

Tristan chuckled faintly. "What else could I do? I've loved Lauren since we were kids."

"Too bad she fell for a nobody like Julian."

"So I had to show her the true power of poverty."

His friend paused, his tone turning probing.

"That girl's actually gorgeous, though. And she loves you enough to die for you. After spending so much time together, do you really not feel anything for her?"

Standing outside the door, I heard every single word with brutal clarity.

I bit down hard on my lower lip. The edge of the takeout bag dug so deep into my palm that it left bloodless white marks. Rain dripped silently from my soaked hair onto the plush carpet.

In the dark hallway, separated by a single door, I held my breath and listened, waiting for the final verdict.

The VIP room went silent for several seconds.

Then, I heard Tristan chuckle softly. His voice was light, dismissive, and utterly certain.

"No feelings whatsoever."

"She's nothing more than a prop to prove a point to Lauren. Fine as a little toy for a while, but who'd ever take someone like her seriously?"

I couldn't remember how I left that place.

All I remembered was the heavy rain slashing against my face, stinging sharply—yet it couldn't compare to the tearing pain spreading through my chest.

That "no feelings whatsoever" was like a rusted spike driven violently into my heart. With every beat, it ripped the wound wide open.

Right then and there, my heart died completely.

Snapping out of the memory, I looked down at the new message Tristan had sent: [Thanks, babe, you're the absolute best.]

Words that once made me blush and walk on air for days now only made my stomach churn with disgust.

I tossed my phone aside, bent down, and dragged a dusty suitcase out from under the bed.

I wasn't going to confront him face-to-face. I wasn't going to waste my breath on pointless arguments or screaming matches.

When dealing with a man who had calculated your entire existence from day one, every word and tear was just another form of self-humiliation.

All I needed to do was pack up and walk away cleanly and with dignity before his cruel little game reached its finale.