This time, I steadfastly held my ground, fully aware that Penelope would not dare let Graham find out she had any inclination to challenge me.
Her love for Graham was so deep that she feared losing his favor. Meanwhile, I found myself at a pivotal moment in my career, poised for a promotion to associate professor. My plan was to immerse myself in work after a brief period of adjustment, aiming to avoid unnecessary complications with Penelope.
However, fate has a peculiar sense of humor. A few days later, my tranquility was shattered by an urgent phone call. It was one of my graduate students, her voice breaking with tears: “Professor Taylor, when will you return? Our experimental data has been compromised.”
A wave of panic washed over me, and I hurried to the lab. The biting winter wind cut through the corridors, and within the dimly lit hallways of the laboratory building, the anxious voices of students intermingled. Upon opening the door, I was met with the sight of several students gathered around a computer, their expressions grave and eyes filled with despair.
“Professor Taylor, your computer has been tampered with as well.”
I detected a floral scent out of place in the lab, clearly the mark of an intruder.
Soon after, Graham entered, quietly inquiring, “What’s happened?” The scene was chaotic, with remnants of coffee spills on computer screens and documents scattered across desks.
Students explained to Graham in distress, “Someone came looking for you and accidentally spilled coffee in the lab.”
“It’s not just the data; our samples have been compromised as well.”
The lab's strict no food or drink policy highlighted the intentional nature of this sabotage.
At that moment, a gentle voice emerged from the doorway, accompanied by soft gasps, “I’m terribly sorry, Miss Taylor, I accidentally knocked over my coffee. Let me clean it up.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Graham's face, evidently not anticipating Penelope's sudden appearance.
Penelope, her cheeks flushed, attempted to appear casual, “We’ve known each other for years, isn’t it natural for me to check on you?”
As I approached her, a flicker of unease crossed Penelope’s face as she tried to explain:
“It was such an unfortunate accident, damaging Professor Taylor's experiment. I didn’t mean for it to happen…”
Suddenly, a resounding slap pierced the lab's silence.
I addressed Penelope with a cold tone, “Do you think a mere apology suffices? Your carelessness could jeopardize these students’ graduations. Are you aware of the years of research at stake here, and the millions in funding?”
Stunned, Penelope stood motionless as a hush fell over the lab, the students looking on in shock.
Penelope, cradling her face, tears welling up, murmured, “Miss Taylor, no matter the circumstances, violence is unacceptable.” Her voice quivered, a feeble attempt at defending herself.
I raised my hand once more, my voice icy, “If a slap could make you vanish forever—”
Just as I was about to release my anger, Graham intervened, catching my hand with a tone that was gentle yet firm, “Melinda, stop.”
Our eyes locked, the tension palpable. It was then I realized that the superficial calm between us masked a brewing storm.
“Is this your stance?” I challenged him.
Graham met my gaze with determination, unwavering, “I’ll handle this situation.”
Thanks to Graham's intervention, Penelope escaped any form of reprimand. Utilizing his extensive connections, he managed to quell the upheaval. To make amends for the trouble caused by Penelope, Graham even offered two million in compensation.
The students, filled with silent resentment, had no outlet for their frustration, forced to bear the situation in silence. Consequently, the relationship between Graham and me became noticeably strained.
On a seemingly ordinary afternoon, as I was engrossed in guiding students on their project selections, an urgent message abruptly broke the calm, “Professor Taylor, someone has posted about the incident online.”
I quickly checked my phone, logged onto social media, and was confronted with the headline, “The Sins of Melinda Taylor.”
The video captured my confrontation with Penelope from a disturbing angle, instantly igniting a firestorm online.
The comments section exploded with a variety of accusatory and speculative remarks, “Penelope is still alive!”
“Was Penelope coerced? Who does Melinda Taylor think she is, to act so brazenly?”
“She flagrantly crosses ethical boundaries and yet stands defiant!”
“Were I in her place, I’d show no mercy.”
“Professor Huntington, please intervene to save Penelope; it’s heartbreaking to witness her ordeal.”
As the comments surged, so did the vilification directed at me.
I was swiftly cast as the villain, while the destruction of years of my research and the graduation dilemmas facing my students due to this incident were callously overlooked.
To them, all that mattered was the hope for a storybook ending for the protagonists they had envisioned in their minds.
