The Betrayed Genius's Fiery Reckoning

of a clean energy company I co-founded with my husband, the CEO. My only re

rket. I saw my husband with a secret family-a

, Abel, the man I'd mourned for five years,

cy. They faked his death to steal my next-generation

incompetent, using my "grief" as proof. A conservatorship would gi

ng my work. They were pl

the city's most ruthless lawyer and laid the e

I told her. "I want to burn

pte

energy. My husband, Clay Henderson, was the charismatic CEO, the handsome face of our shared ambition. We were a power couple, lauded in magazines and celebrate

tered on a sunny Saturd

eirloom tomatoes when I saw him. Clay. He was supposed to be in a board meeti

ng on his arm. A little boy, maybe f

ter. It was probably a colleague, a

t him, his face bright w

have that one?

my hand felt slick and heavy. I watched, frozen, as Clay ruff

ttle man. Anyt

s now directed at this child. I remembered a conversation we had years ag

k is our baby. TerraGen needs all of us right now. May

a father for

the genius in the lab, creating the technology that made

lay on the shoulder. He was older, with a familiar stoop and the sa

Abel

the official report. I attended the memorial. Clay had held me as I cr

dent he caused while trying to cover his tracks. Clay handled everything, shielding me from the ug

s voice hard. "He was jealous of you. Let

s, I carried the weight of my mentor's death and his

ice cream cone. The woman, the boy' s mother, kissed Clay on the cheek.

t powered this entire charade. My work, my mind, my

matoes rolled across the pavement like drops of blood. I stu

is name on the screen, my hand shaking. I took a deep, r

Is the me

iliar. The voice of my husband. "Just wrappi

h. I looked across the market at him,

eliberately light. "I thought I just

ly for a second, but it was an eternity. It was

like me. You know I'd rather be with

verything. The lie wa

im say something to the woman. He kissed her, then

again. A text

tes until I see yo

holding back finally fell. It wasn't a perfect l