From Trophy Wife To Forgotten

explosive choice. It was a quiet, cold certainty that settled in my b

ories. My focus was singular, my ambition a burning fire that consumed everything else. My work was on the verge of a breakthrough, som

at wasn't his fault. He was framed, and the man who framed him, my former mentor Dr. Arthur Hayes, was now the powerful CEO of an aerospace cong

he key to completing my research. But there was a condition: I had to help him clear his name. It felt lik

or, just last week. We sat in his polished o

d, his voice smooth and encouraging. "You

g a familiar swell of pride. "I couldn

, leaning forward. "Don't let anythin

s talking about my father. But as I stood there, watching the man I thoug

. We had built a world together, piece by piece. I remembered the early days, the easy laughter and the feelin

oughts. He had just come back from a "work trip." He walked toward

id, his voice a low m

hts outside the window cast long shadows across the floor, making our famili

his shirt. A faint, almost imperceptible smudge of pink. It wasn't my shade of lipstick. It was a sma

ing something about how tired he was, how much he was looking forward to the weekend with me. And all I could think was what a fool I had been. A self-deprecating laugh almost escaped my lips. He was a good actor. I