The Professor's Revenge My Cheating Husband Destroyed Everything

My workstation had been ransacked.

Petri dishes lay shattered across the floor. The hard drive containing all my research data had vanished without a trace.

"Professor Morton said your experimental design has critical flaws. All your projects are suspended."

Doris stood in the doorway, chomping on gum with infuriating nonchalance. Pinched between her fingers was the USB drive I'd backed up my data to just last night.

She dangled it in front of my face, her expression pure provocation.

"Thanks for all those late nights you pulled for me, Professor Pruitt. Now it's all mine."

Gone was the fragile, innocent girl from before. The woman standing before me now was a completely different creature.

I lost it. I lunged for the drive.

Doris didn't even flinch. She tucked the USB into her lab coat with maddening calm.

"Professor Morton says people who commit academic fraud don't deserve a place in this lab." Her lips curled. "Congratulations, Professor Pruitt. You've officially graduated."

My head rang like a struck bell.

What was there left to misunderstand? The plagiarism scandal, the accusations—all of it was a trap. Fabian and Doris had orchestrated the whole thing.

My eyes burned. Before I could stop myself, my hand connected with Doris's face.

"Don't think I don't see right through your two-faced act." My voice shook with fury. "You think these underhanded tactics will drive me out? Keep dreaming."

Doris cupped her reddening cheek, but instead of retreating, she smiled.

"Oh, Sara. Getting a little hysterical, are we?" She tilted her head, mock sympathy dripping from every word. "I suppose I understand. A woman past her prime who can't even keep her own husband... what else can she do but throw a tantrum when faced with someone younger?"

She shook her head slowly, then pulled something from her pocket with theatrical flair.

Fabian's car keys.

"I'm so sorry, Professor Pruitt." Her voice was honey laced with venom. "When Professor Morton drove me home last night, I accidentally left my lipstick on his passenger seat. I should go retrieve it."

She turned to leave. "As for you—feel free to keep having your little meltdown. I won't be staying to watch."

As she walked away, something fluttered to the ground.

A photograph.

I picked it up. The image showed Fabian in his office, guiding Doris through revisions on a paper—his hand over hers on the keyboard. But her other hand rested on his shoulder, and they were gazing at each other like lovers posing for a portrait.

Something inside me snapped.

I stormed to Fabian's office and kicked the door open.

"You ordered someone to destroy my lab? To wipe out my research data?" I was shaking. "What happened to everything you promised me yesterday? You're going back on your word already?"

I'd completely lost the composure I usually prided myself on. Every trace of poise, of calm—gone. I wanted to grab the ashtray from his desk and hurl it at his head.

His assistant went pale, stammering at Fabian. "I'm so sorry, Professor Morton, I couldn't stop her—"

"Leave us." Fabian set down his pen and rose from his chair, his expression maddeningly neutral. "All of you."

The room emptied.

"Sara, I'm not targeting you." His voice was measured, reasonable. "But your papers are under investigation for plagiarism. You need to lay low for a while."

I laughed—a sharp, bitter sound—and stared at him through burning eyes.

"Under investigation? For what?"

"You know exactly how I wrote those papers. You were there." My voice cracked. "You know how much time I poured into that research. How much of myself I gave. And the moment someone accuses me of plagiarism, you just believe them? You reported me yourself?" I stepped closer. "What kind of husband does that?"

Fabian's expression cooled.

"Sara, stop making a scene." His tone hardened. "Precisely because I'm your husband—your family—I have to recuse myself. Avoid any appearance of favoritism."

He straightened his cuffs. "If your papers are clean, you have nothing to fear from an investigation. I'm just asking you to go home and rest for a few days. Cooperate, and this will all blow over."