I woke to find the university forums had already done their work: I was a psychotic who'd trashed the lab, a disgrace who hadn't inherited a shred of her father's dignity.
My hands shook as I held up the phone, showing Jarvis the private messages crammed with slurs and insults.
"What is this? Why are they calling me crazy?"
He took the phone from me and sighed.
"After your father died, I was afraid you'd lose it and wreck Bess's academic career. So I told everyone the grief broke you—that you'd been diagnosed, that you were unstable, that you never left the house. I've been saying it for years."
"Renee, no one is going to believe you. You know that, right? So stop making a fuss."
"Stay home. Her condition could take her any day—I don't want her to die with regrets. Once she's made it academically, I'll come back to this family."
"Remember, no matter what happens, you are always the one I love most."
Three years. He had spent three years turning me into a madwoman in everyone's eyes—all so Bess wouldn't face even the slightest threat.
No wonder every job I applied for went well on the surface, then rejected me the moment the background check came back.
No wonder he always told me not to bother looking for work, not to subject myself to that. Just stay home. Let him take care of me.
How could he keep saying he loved me while treating me like an enemy?
I was shaking.
"Jarvis Swanson, you're terrifying. I'm done. I want a divorce!"
He rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Stop this. You have no job, no family left. Keep pushing and you'll only make things worse for yourself. Calm down and think about it."
The door slammed shut behind him.
Wind howled outside the window.
I felt so cold all of a sudden.
Everything here felt like it belonged to a stranger now—so completely foreign that Jarvis holding me in this same room three years ago, his hand on my back, telling me he'd always be here, felt like something I'd dreamed up entirely.
He said he would be the only person I'd ever need to rely on.
What he meant was he'd tear out my wings.
Leave me bleeding and unable to go anywhere but back to him.
But even if it killed me, I was leaving him first.
I contacted a lawyer and drafted a divorce agreement.
The next morning, I took the signed papers and went to find Jarvis, but the security guard at the entrance stopped me.
"Sorry, ma'am. Professor Swanson left strict orders—you're not to be let in."
While I was arguing with the guard, Bess's voice came from behind me.
"Ms. Henson, here to see Professor Swanson?"
"He's tied up with my academic presentation materials right now, so I doubt he's free. But I can take you in—you could wait for him?"
The guard frowned and started to say something, but she cut him off with a single look.
He let me follow her without another word.
We were halfway down the corridor.
Then she smiled and spoke.
"Ms. Henson, I heard Professor Swanson told you the whole story about the surgery money?"
"Well, there's something I never told you either."
I stopped mid-step. Seeing the calm smile on her face, dread hit me before I even wanted to hear it.
"Professor Henson's heart attack wasn't some accident. When I found out you wouldn't lend me the money for my liver transplant, I took a private video of me and Professor Swanson—and I showed it to your father."
"I only meant to make him angry. How was I supposed to know he was that weak? He couldn't even breathe."
"The doctors said his chances were basically zero—that even if they saved him, what was the point? So Professor Swanson said the money should go toward my surgery instead. I'm young, after all. I'm worth more than a dying old man."
"He just lay there, in pain, dying bit by bit, and he never got to see you one last time. Don't you think that's such a shame?"
My blood caught fire. I couldn't move.
I looked up and met those wide, harmless eyes staring back at me without a flicker of guilt.
I was shaking violently.
"You vicious woman! Why would you do that?"
