She Was My Daughter First Chapter 2

I had always been the ideal academic wife. Compliant.

I followed Alistair’s instructions precisely. The next day, I pinned up my hair and set up my flower stall right outside the gates of Westhaven University.

On the elegant wrapping paper of every bouquet, I thoughtfully taped copies of Sera and Alistair’s most incriminating text messages.

I was a familiar face at Westhaven. Over the years, I’d been in and out of Alistair’s department, and the students and faculty all knew me.

As soon as I appeared, one of Alistair’s former graduate students walked over, his expression concerned.

“Mrs. Stone, what are you doing out here? Is everything okay? Did something happen between you and the Professor?”

I handed him a perfectly wrapped bouquet.

“Oh, nothing much,” I replied, my smile serene and brittle. “Your professor just needs to support a second household now.”

I leaned in, my voice dropping to a theatrical whisper designed to carry. “And frankly, I worry about him. Young girls are demanding. I hope he doesn't burn out.”

I weaponized every ounce of bitterness, using veiled, sharp language to hint at the disgusting truth of Alistair and Sera.

Within twenty-four hours, the whispers about Professor Stone and his pet student had exploded into full-blown campus gossip.

The second time I wheeled my floral cart onto campus property, a group of intimidating, rough-looking men rushed over and stomped every single flower into the pavement.

“Listen, lady,” the biggest one said, his voice gravelly, “someone told me to tell you this: Know when to quit.”

Of course, I didn't listen.

That same day, I moved my hysterical tears from the campus security office all the way up to the Dean’s suite, and finally, I called the State Ethics Commission hotline.

Alistair was immediately called in for a meeting with the Provost.

That evening, Alistair didn't linger at the university. He came home early.

“Eliza, that’s enough.”

I let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Enough? We’re just getting started, Alistair. You were capable of that disgusting act, and now you’re suddenly worried about the noise?”

He sighed heavily, tossing his briefcase onto the sofa. His whole demeanor was a wall of cold frustration directed at me.

“Eliza, if you hadn’t pulled these stunts, everything could have been negotiated.”

He looked at me with an expression of profound disappointment.

“If our marriage ends, it will be the result of your own doing.”

He was blaming me? He blamed me for the volatile, explosive response that ruined the surface harmony of our ruined twenty-year relationship? He, the unfaithful one, was standing on some fabricated moral high ground, accusing me of being a hysterical maniac whose erratic behavior drove him away?

“Alistair, did I force you to cheat?!”

He sneered. “Eliza, have you forgotten who brought Sera into this house?”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

A terrifying, gut-wrenching nausea swallowed me whole.

Sera was the girl I had sponsored, the girl I had fostered. The girl I had brought home and protected like a daughter for nearly a decade.

“Alistair, you are truly repulsive.”

For the first time, we saw utter strangeness in each other's eyes.

That night, Alistair packed a bag and moved out. Sera was with him.