"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—"