Back then, Fabian had nothing—just a penniless professor with empty pockets and no prospects. My father worried I'd suffer if I married him, so he poured everything he had into propping Fabian up, building him into the man he is today.
But I never imagined he'd have a change of heart.
That he'd hurt me without any bottom line—all for some nobody of a graduate student.
Before I could even react, Fabian signaled the security guards behind him to escort me out.
I locked eyes with him, forcing a cold smile onto my face.
"You'll regret this."
Fabian lifted his gaze, indifferent. "Take her away."
As I passed Doris, she flashed me a taunting smile.
"Professor Pruitt, you're getting up there in years. Why don't you just stay home and rest?"
She tilted her head, all false sweetness. "As for the Research Center—don't worry. I'll take good care of Professor Morton for you."
But Fabian—
Don't forget. I'm not someone to be trifled with either.
The days that followed, I was suspended. I stayed home, watering plants, reading books.
My phone, however, wouldn't stop buzzing.
Doris, sending me videos. Deliberately. Tauntingly.
In one, Fabian stood with his back to the camera, cooking in her kitchen.