The Professor's Revenge My Cheating Husband Destroyed Everything

Fabian Morton was a university professor.

For nine years of marriage, he published a collection of love essays for me on every anniversary.

But on the tenth year.

The heroine of the collection became his female student, Doris Fox.

I didn't cry or make a scene. I continued my academic research.

But I never expected this.

To promote her, Fabian took it upon himself to give my first authorship on my academic paper to that student.

"She's young. She needs the opportunity."

"But you have me."

One sentence, and he brushed me off like it was nothing.

But why should I agree to this?

"No."

I wanted to expose the academic fraud and make it clear that I wrote the paper.

But Fabian threatened me with a cold expression.

"Sara Pruitt, I suggest you don't go against me. Otherwise, it won't end well for you."

Afraid I'd sabotage things behind his back, Fabian accused me of plagiarism and forced me into suspension.

But he seemed to have forgotten.

Who invested in building the Pruitt Research Center in the first place? Who elevated him to his current position?

1.

"Give it to her."

Fabian didn't even look up, but his voice was utterly self-righteous.

"Sara, you have countless papers under your belt. Awards and honors coming out of your ears. You don't need this one."

"But Doris is different."

"Without this paper, she might not graduate."

I almost laughed from the sheer absurdity. I grabbed my experiment records and slammed them onto the table.

"Three months of all-nighters for this data. Thirteen rounds of revisions."

"This is my life's work, Fabian. You think you can just tell me to hand it over and I will?"

Doris hid behind him, timid as a frightened rabbit, her eyes rimmed red as she looked at me.

"Professor Pruitt, please don't be angry."

"It's all my fault for being so stupid. Professor Morton only did this because he felt sorry for me..."

"Don't call me that."

My voice cut through hers, cold and flat.

"Doris, if you want a signature work, if you want to graduate smoothly, you should focus on your actual research."

"Not on seducing your professor."

"Enough!"

Fabian couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed my wrist.

"Doris doesn't know any better. She's just a young girl. You're a grown womanwhy are you still making such a fuss?"

"Do you really want to drag this out until your reputation is in ruins? Will that make you happy?"

I stared into his eyes. They once reflected my image. Now all I saw was disgust.

I let out a bitter laugh.

"Fabian, you started this."

"Unless you return my paper to me"

"I will pursue this to the end and nail both of you thieves to the pillar of academic shame."

Fabian's expression didn't change. He watched me with calm detachment.

As if he was certain.

That I was all bark and no bite.

"Fabian, you've been a university professor for ten years. You should know better than anyone what happens to people who commit academic fraud."

"You wouldn't dare."

His face shifted slightly.

He gripped my wrist harder, speaking through clenched teeth.

"Go ahead and say whatever you want. I run the entire Research Center now. I'd like to see who would believe you."

"Whether they believe me isn't up to you."

I shook him off and pulled a stack of documents from the drawer, throwing them down in front of him.

"These are the experiment logs from last December to this March. Every daily entry has a timestamp. I also have email correspondence with the collaborating laboratoryevery single data point matches up. Doris has only been in the group for two months. What does she have to compete with me?"

"This evidence is in black and white. Can you forge that for her too?"

Doris's face went white. She shook her head at Fabian, looking pitiful and helpless.

"Professor Morton, maybe we should just forget it?"

Tears spilled from her eyes. "I don't want this to blow up and affect my graduation."

Fabian patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"Even if something does happen, it's my responsibility. It has nothing to do with you."

He turned to me, impatience written all over his face.

"Sara, do you really have to take this so far?"

"I told youone paper isn't a big deal for you."

"Why are you so determined to make an issue of this?"

I laughed coldly.

"You think this is just about a paper?"

"Fabian, have you ever respected me?"

"Today you're letting your student walk all over me for a paper. What outrageous thing will you do for her tomorrow?"

"I can ignore the rumors swirling around about you."

"But don't treat me like a fool."

Doris's eyes were red from crying. She tugged timidly at Fabian's sleeve.

"Professor Morton, please don't fight with your wife because of me. I don't need this paper anymore..."

"This is all my fault."

Fabian rubbed his brow in frustration. "Doris, go home for now."

Once the door closed, only the two of us remained in the lab.

Fabian watched me in silence for a moment, then sighed.

"Fine. I wasn't thinking clearly."

"Since you won't give it up, let's drop the whole thing. Forget I said anything."

I didn't respond. Didn't even look at him.

Fabian suddenly wrapped his arms around me from behind, his voice impossibly gentle.

"Sara, we've been married for years."

"Why argue in front of a student and give people something to gossip about?"

He said he'd just had a lapse in judgmentthat he felt sorry for Doris because she had talent but hadn't found her footing yet, and he'd been too eager to help her along.

But it sounded like nonsense to me. I pushed him away with a cold laugh.

"Fabian, are you lying to me?"

I stared straight into his eyes.

Every word deliberate.

"Why did it have to be my paper you took for Doris?"

"And our tenth anniversary essay collectionwhy is she suddenly the heroine?"

"Fabian, don't you think you owe me an explanation?"

His gaze dropped slightly. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.

"Our essay collection has nothing to do with Doris."

He pulled a manuscript from his study drawer.

"Look. This is this year's edition. I finished writing itjust haven't sent it to the publisher yet."

I froze. Flipping through a few pages, I saw it was indeed different from the tenth volume circulating online.

"That doesn't make sense. Where there's smoke, there's fire."

I opened my laptop and pulled up the essay collection that the internet claimed Fabian had written himself.

"It's all over the internet. Everyone's saying the heroine in this one is Doris."

"She even posted about it on social media to celebrate."

"You didn't know?"

Fabian sighed, looking helpless.

"Sara, how old are you? You're really going to believe baseless rumors from the internet?"

"As for Doris's postI saw it too."

"I asked her about it. She said she posted it on a dare during a game of truth or dare at a party with friends."

"Young girls these days are all like that. It was just for fun."

I studied the man standing before me. He looked as sincere and composed as always. Not a single crack in his facade.

But something still felt off.

"Really?"

Fabian gave me his word again and again.

"That essay collection was fake. How could I possibly make another woman the protagonist?"

"Don't forgetpublishing an essay collection for you every year was our wedding promise."

"Why would I suddenly change that?"

Fabian's gentle voice washed over me like a balm, settling my nerves.

I thought back over our ten years of marriage. He had always been attentive to my every need.

He remembered all my little habits.

I liked my coffee with two spoons of sugar and one of milk. Every morning, he'd prepare it and set it on my desk, always at the perfect temperature.

My hands and feet turned to ice in winter. Every night before bed, he'd heat water for me to soak my feet, massaging my ankles while I didfor nine years straight.

When I worked late in the lab, I'd step out to find him waiting with a thermos. Inside was always ginger tea with brown sugar, or the sweet white fungus soup I loved.

And now he was asking me to give my paper to a female student?

I wanted to believe it was just a misunderstanding.

"Fine, Fabian. You'd better keep your word."

That night, to make amends, he cooked dinner himselfa whole table full of dishes.

But the next day, everything fell apart.

I had taken the day off from the Pruitt Research Center. Then, around noon, my assistant called.

"Professor Pruitt, something's happened with your paper. You've been accused of plagiarism!"

I gripped my phone, my head buzzing.

"Plagiarism? That's impossible."

Those papers represented countless hours of painstaking work and dedication. Several of them were at the cutting edge of the fieldconcepts I had pioneered myself.

How could anyone accuse me of plagiarism?

There was no time to think. I rushed to the Research Center.

But before I even reached the entrance, I froze at what I saw.

Fabian was carefully opening a car door, then ceremoniously scooping up a girl in a white dress, carrying her bridal-style.

"Professor Morton, I'm so sorry to trouble you." Doris had her arms wrapped around his neck, gazing up at him with starry eyes. "I'm so clumsyI twisted my ankle. Otherwise I wouldn't have bothered you like this."

Fabian looked down at her, his gaze soft as it rested on her face.

"At least you know you're clumsy." His voice was teasing. "Next time you're this careless, I can't guarantee you'll still have an internship at the Research Center."

Doris nuzzled against his chest like a clingy cat, then playfully raised her hand in a vow. "Professor Morton, I'll never do it again. I swear I'll walk more carefully from now on."

Fabian's lips curved upward. He reached out and tapped her nose.

Then he turned and carried her into the Research Center without so much as a glance in my direction.

I stood there, stunned. My scalp prickled, my vision swam, and my stomach churned violently.

Fabian was a germaphobe. He never willingly touched anyone.

In nine years of marriage, I had been the only person he would allow close.

But now, Doris had become the exception.

My mind was still reeling when my assistant appeared beside me, hesitating before she spoke.

"Professor Pruitt, I looked into it. The plagiarism accusation against your paper... it was filed by Professor Morton."

The words hit me like a plunge into ice water. Suddenly, everything made sense.

The day Fabian had pressured me to give Doris first authorship on my paper, I had stood my ground.

He'd pretended to back off.

But in reality, he'd played dirtydragging me into a plagiarism scandal, destroying my reputation, forcing me to hand over the authorship.

My chest heaved. The color drained from my face.

"I need to find Fabian!"

I spun around and ran into the Research Center. The next second, I stopped dead in my tracks, frozen in shock.

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 accusationsall 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 youfeel 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 paperhis 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 calmgone. 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 laugheda sharp, bitter soundand 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 husbandyour familyI 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."

Cooperate nicely, he said.

When this research center was built, my father was the one who funded it.

Back then, Fabian had nothingjust 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 lineall 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 Centerdon'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.

Her voice dripped with satisfaction: "Look, Professor Pruitthe even keeps his razor at my place now. He told me being with you was exhausting. Said I'm the one who truly understands him..."

Then came the photos. One after another. Intimate. Unmistakable.

I scrolled through them, and my heart sank to the bottom.

So this was the truth. Fabian's heart had never been with me.

The papers. The essay collections. All those little moments I thought we shared.

Doris's gloating voice kept playing:

"Remember your anniversary last year? He told you he was working late. But actually, I texted him saying the library lost power and I was scared of the dark. So he came to me instead."

"And last night when he said he was working overtime? He was sleeping at my apartment."

"If you know what's good for you, you'll sign the divorce papers now."

"Don't drag this out. The only one who'll be humiliated in the end is you."

I set down my phone.

Then I dialed a number I hadn't called in a very long time.

Seven days later.

Doris had submitted my paper under her nameand won a national award. The ceremony was in full swing.

Just as she stepped onto the stage to accept her trophy, a swarm of reporters burst through the doors.

Microphones thrust toward her face.

"Someone has reported you for academic fraud. They claim this paper was plagiarized. Care to comment?"

"We've heard you're a student of Professor Fabian Morton at Southport University. Sources say you got into the Pruitt Research Center through the back door. Is that true?"

"No!" Doris tried to push the microphones away.

She was panicking, though she fought to keep her composure. "I wrote this paper myself. It has nothing to do with anyone else."

"But someone has provided the original manuscript." A female reporter in glasses held up photocopied documents, her tone sharp and relentless. "It bears Professor Sara Pruitt's signature and editing marksdated three months before your submission."

She stepped closer. "We also have chat logs showing you asked Professor Morton to give you first authorship. How do you explain that?"

The color drained from Doris's face.

Her eyes darted frantically toward Fabian.

He looked just as stunned. The ambush had caught him completely off guard. He shot to his feet, his expression thunderous, barking orders at the staff to shut down the interview.

"I don't know anything! I've been framed!"

Doris was crying now, her composure shattered.

Her finger trembled as she pointed at me.

"It's her! Sara Pruitt framed me!"

"She's always had it out for me, wanting to kick me out of the Research Center. She forged evidence just to keep me from graduating!"

All eyes in the room swiveled toward me.

"Miss Pruitt?" The reporter's voice carried a note of skepticism. "From what we understand, you've been Professor Morton's wife for ten years, with countless awards to your name. Why would you forge evidence to frame her?"

"Because of me."

A deep voice cut through the murmurs.

Fabian strode onto the stage, positioning himself protectively behind Doris.

"My wife and I had a disagreement. She's throwing a tantrum and taking it out on innocent people."

"Doris is my student. There's nothing wrong with her thesis. I stake my professional reputation on it."

The room fell deathly silent.

Everyone knew that Fabian Morton was one of Havenport's most prominent academic figures. When he put his reputation on the line, people believed him.

Even the reporters exchanged uncertain glances.

"Why would Professor Morton go this far to protect a female student?"

"According to our research, this Doris Fox doesn't have any particularly impressive credentials. Surely he wouldn't risk his entire reputation over a student's fraud?"

Whispers rippled through the crowd. There had to be some misunderstanding.

"Professional reputation?" I laughed, my voice carrying clearly to the stage. "Is Professor Morton's professional reputation built on enabling plagiarism? Or perhaps on gifting his wife's research to his mistress?"

Fabian's expression darkened instantly.

"Sara, stop this. We can talk about it at home."

He walked over and grabbed my wrist, but his voice dropped to a furious hiss near my ear.

"Did you arrange for these reporters?"

"You'd better send them away."

The threat in his tone was almost laughable.

I met his eyes and coldly shook off his grip.

"Home? Fabian, do you really think we still have a home?"

"And why should I do anything you say?"

Seeing that I had no intention of backing down, a flicker of panic crossed Fabian's eyes, though he struggled to maintain composure.

"Sara, do you really have to be this cruel?"

"It's just one thesis! Why do you have to go after Doris like this?"

His eyes had gone red with anger, his voice a furious growl in my ear.

I watched the vein pulsing at his temple, the desperation written across his face.

A cold smile tugged at my lips.

"The show hasn't even started yet, and you're already panicking?"

Fabian froze, looking up in confusion.

"What show?"

His brow furrowed. "Sara, what are you planning?"

At that moment, the doors behind us burst open. A group of people strode in, uniforms crisp, badges flashing.

"Professor Fabian Morton of Southport Universityyou are hereby suspended pending investigation into allegations of inappropriate conduct with a female student!"