Fabian Morton was a university professor.
For nine years of marriage, he published a collection of love essays for me on every anniversary.
But on the tenth year.
The heroine of the collection became his female student, Doris Fox.
I didn't cry or make a scene. I continued my academic research.
But I never expected this.
To promote her, Fabian took it upon himself to give my first authorship on my academic paper to that student.
"She's young. She needs the opportunity."
"But you have me."
One sentence, and he brushed me off like it was nothing.
But why should I agree to this?
"No."
I wanted to expose the academic fraud and make it clear that I wrote the paper.
But Fabian threatened me with a cold expression.
"Sara Pruitt, I suggest you don't go against me. Otherwise, it won't end well for you."
Afraid I'd sabotage things behind his back, Fabian accused me of plagiarism and forced me into suspension.
But he seemed to have forgotten.
Who invested in building the Pruitt Research Center in the first place? Who elevated him to his current position?
1.
"Give it to her."
Fabian didn't even look up, but his voice was utterly self-righteous.
"Sara, you have countless papers under your belt. Awards and honors coming out of your ears. You don't need this one."
"But Doris is different."
"Without this paper, she might not graduate."
I almost laughed from the sheer absurdity. I grabbed my experiment records and slammed them onto the table.
"Three months of all-nighters for this data. Thirteen rounds of revisions."
"This is my life's work, Fabian. You think you can just tell me to hand it over and I will?"
Doris hid behind him, timid as a frightened rabbit, her eyes rimmed red as she looked at me.
"Professor Pruitt, please don't be angry."
"It's all my fault for being so stupid. Professor Morton only did this because he felt sorry for me..."
"Don't call me that."
My voice cut through hers, cold and flat.
"Doris, if you want a signature work, if you want to graduate smoothly, you should focus on your actual research."
"Not on seducing your professor."
"Enough!"
Fabian couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed my wrist.
"Doris doesn't know any better. She's just a young girl. You're a grown woman—why are you still making such a fuss?"
"Do you really want to drag this out until your reputation is in ruins? Will that make you happy?"
I stared into his eyes. They once reflected my image. Now all I saw was disgust.
I let out a bitter laugh.
"Fabian, you started this."
"Unless you return my paper to me—"
"I will pursue this to the end and nail both of you thieves to the pillar of academic shame."
Fabian's expression didn't change. He watched me with calm detachment.
As if he was certain.
That I was all bark and no bite.
"Fabian, you've been a university professor for ten years. You should know better than anyone what happens to people who commit academic fraud."
"You wouldn't dare."
His face shifted slightly.
He gripped my wrist harder, speaking through clenched teeth.
"Go ahead and say whatever you want. I run the entire Research Center now. I'd like to see who would believe you."
"Whether they believe me isn't up to you."
I shook him off and pulled a stack of documents from the drawer, throwing them down in front of him.
"These are the experiment logs from last December to this March. Every daily entry has a timestamp. I also have email correspondence with the collaborating laboratory—every single data point matches up. Doris has only been in the group for two months. What does she have to compete with me?"
"This evidence is in black and white. Can you forge that for her too?"
