Chapter 7
Unlike me, whose academic life had been tied to Lucian for over a decade-four years of undergrad, three in grad school, and four slogging through a PhD-Laney was free.
The year I finished my doctorate and was about to apply for a postdoc abroad, Lucian proposed.
So I gave up the offer.
And for a while, our marriage was everything I dreamed it would be-sweet, passionate, stable. But some nights, when the lab was quiet and the campus empty, I’d wonder: what if I’d chosen differently? Would life
have looked brighter down that road?
Not that it mattered. What’s done is done.
So when I first saw Laney-timid, grateful, full of starry-eyed ambition-I handed her the opportunity I once
gave up.
Back then, she was all gratitude.
And now, somehow, that same opportunity had circled back to me. This time, I was ready.
“Jonathan,” I said softly. “I’ll take it.”
On the other end of the line, Jonathan erupted with joy. He promised to arrange everything-all I had to do
was show up.
After we hung up, I booked my flight.
Suddenly, everything felt… new. Like rebirth.
My departure was set for a month later. What should have been a quiet summer had become jam-packed.
First, I agreed to work with Miles using the evidence Jonathan had sent over to fuel his investigation.
Then came the harder part: resigning.
I was just one step away from a full professorship. When I submitted my resignation letter, Dean Reynolds looked stunned. He rubbed his temples, visibly tired.
“Margot, I know you’re not the kind of person who’d harm a student.”
“I read the evidence you sent. Can’t we just clear things up publicly? You’d still be eligible for promotion.”
“Besides, the whole department’s on your side.”
I shook my head.
“Thank you for believing in me. I only sent you that documentation so I wouldn’t have a black mark on my record.”
“You know Harperfield has extended invitations before. Their program is better suited for what I’m working
on.”
“And honestly, I need the quiet.”
He paused, then reluctantly signed the letter. As he handed it back, he asked one last thing, “And what about… Professor Sullivan?”
I smiled faintly. “He’ll find out. I’m looking forward to that.”
Right after I wrapped the final forms, another message from Lucian came in.
As usual, it was a photo of Laney. And a short update.
[The doctor says Laney’s almost fully recovered. I think she’ll heal faster at home.]
[The guest room’s too stuffy. Can you prep the master bedroom for her?]
I scrolled upward. Message after message, day after day-updates about where he and Laney went, what
they did, how she was doing.
At first, he kept insisting: [I’m just helping her. We haven’t crossed any lines.]
Then I stopped replying. He went silent for a few days. Until one night, a lone message popped up: [Don’t
push your luck, Margot.]
And now? He was bringing her back home.
I was just kicking myself for not taking my suitcase with me earlier.
Sure enough, as soon as I opened the front door, Lucian grabbed my wrist like a lifeline, his face full of panic.
“Margot-where’s the wedding photo from the bedroom? Where are your things?”
“Did you pack your bags to leave?”
