"If it's true, then Professor Whitman's current attitude... is a bit too much."
"Am I the only one who thinks Ms. Jessica seems to be deliberately imitating Samantha's previous style? That independent and intelligent feeling..."
I didn't read any further.
These rumors are true, but not entirely true.
Both Jason's and my family are prominent families in London.
After we got married, someone had to inherit both families' businesses.
Jason couldn't give up his academic pursuits, so I had to give up my graduate studies and take over the family business.
Back then, I didn't know what I sacrificed for so-called love.
But now, at thirty-two, Samantha understands.
It turns out that in other people's eyes, I had long since lost the right to stand shoulder to shoulder with Jason.
The phone ringing pulled me out of my memories.
It was Jason.
His voice, filled with suppressed anger, came crashing down on me. "Samantha, that post on the forum, did you have someone post it?"
"Jessica saw it and cried. She's about to defend her thesis; her emotions can't be affected."
"I don't care what you think. Delete the post immediately and apologize to Jessica."
"If you have a problem, come at me! Don't use such despicable methods to ruin her future!"
On the other end of the phone, I could vaguely hear Jessica's low, aggrieved sobs.
The turmoil in my heart suddenly subsided, sinking into a cold calm.
My childhood sweetheart with Jason, our innocent bond, ten years of marriage—it couldn't withstand a few tears from Jessica.
So absurd.
When I spoke again, my voice was flat, without any inflection.
"Jason."
"First, I can't access your school's internal forum."
"I didn't post that."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.
I paused, then smiled.
“Second, tell her.”
“She hasn’t truly experienced my methods yet.”
“Crying now is a bit premature.”
With that, I hung up before he could react.
Then I edited several text messages and sent them out.
One was to the professors attending the defense today, asking them to buy me some time.
Another was sent to my subordinates, instructing them to collect the information I needed and print it into a booklet.
I wanted to give Jessica a big gift.
After doing all this, I went home, took a shower, and changed my clothes.
I had my driver take me to the classroom where Jessica was defending her thesis.
On the way, my phone vibrated. It was a video file sent by Jason from one of his students, followed by several anxious voice messages.
“Professor’s wife! Something’s happened!”
I opened the video.
The screen showed the projection screen of the defense classroom.
Jessica was standing on the stage, having just said, “Please look at my research data.”
The next second, a photo suddenly popped up on the big screen.
It was a photo of me completely naked.
A suppressed gasp and snickering erupted from the audience.
Several male students even whispered, "Mrs. Moore looks old, but she's got a great figure! Mr. Whitman is so lucky..."
Jessica cried out, frantically pressing the page-turning pen, her face flushed, her voice trembling with tears.
"I'm so sorry! I was making a PowerPoint presentation on Mr. Whitman's computer, and I might have accidentally mixed in pictures from other folders. I didn't mean to!"
She pressed the page-turning pen a few more times, and several photos flashed across the screen.
My face, taken from various angles, was crystal clear.
