"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?"