Chapter 4

Before I could refuse, my mother-in-law's voice came from the other end of the line, "Why are you calling her? A sick hen that can't lay eggs has wasted ten years of Caleb's time!"

Her sharp and sarcastic words made me tremble with anger.

Back when my career was on the rise, Caleb promised he would never hold me back and would always take his medication beforehand. I worried his domineering mother would cause a scene, but Caleb assured me he’d handle it. His plan was to say I was sick and couldn’t have children.

I warned him sharply, “I will never agree to you dropping out. I’ll approve your leave of absence and you can come back to class after you give birth.”

Michele clearly hadn’t expected me to be so forceful and was speechless.

The even more forceful mother-in-law took over the phone, “Get out! Get out! The chemicals in the lab are so harmful to the baby! You just can’t stand to see us doing well! Get out of here!”

With that, she hung up and when I tried to call back, I was blocked.

Caleb’s text message popped up, [Even if you don’t agree to Michele’s withdrawal application, we won’t be stopped by you.]

I opened the phone management page, but my finger lingered on the block button, hesitating to press it. It wasn’t out of lingering affection, but because we weren’t divorced yet and needed to contact each other to get our marriage certificate. I scratched my head, my emotions churning with nowhere to go.

Just then, a pop-up message pushed a trending topic to my head. The moment I saw the title, I suddenly felt this whole thing was utterly pointless.

[A student surnamed Jones publicly accuses university professor Patricia Connor.]

The information Michele presented was explosive. Keywords that could pique human curiosity appeared like they were free in her case. At the end of the video, Michele’s eyes were red and she pleaded with the camera with a pitiful look.

“Miss Patricia, I’m sorry for what I did, but you almost drove me to my death. We’re even now. Please let me go and let me pursue my happiness.”

As expected of my student, she was very good at downplaying the seriousness of the situation and using euphemisms. So much so that the comments section overwhelmingly believed that I was the one who was too forceful and wrong.

[What kind of teacher is she? Driving a student to jump off a building, thankfully the police arrived in time.]

[I know her husband. She’s always been a very domineering person, the kind who won’t give in a single word.]

A few students did speak up for me, but they couldn’t overcome the prevailing opinion.

The uproar quickly caught the attention of the principal, who was clearly suppressing her anger, “Patricia, what happened? What promises did you and I make?”

I smiled wryly, “I just disagreed with her withdrawing her child and I got posted online.”

Upon hearing this, the principal gritted her teeth in anger, “Just having a child, does that warrant withdrawal? Michele took your efforts for granted...”

Afraid she would go on and on, I quickly interrupted, “Alright, Ma’am, don’t worry, I’ll handle this. I’ll leave the public relations to the PR team.”

The principal agreed, “Okay, just let me know if you need anything. The university gets your back.”

Those warm words hit me like a ton of bricks, unexpectedly bringing tears to my eyes. The recent events had brought me back to my dark childhood.

After organizing all the materials, I opened the backend and approved Michele’s withdrawal application. No matter how much I cherished her talent, how disappointed I was, or how compassionate I was, at this moment, I couldn’t find a reason to forgive her.

As soon as I approved, a screenshot of Michele appeared in the comments section.

“Thank you everyone for your support! The teacher has approved it. I’m sorry for wasting public resources.”

I replied, “Don’t rush, you’ve finished speaking, I haven’t even started yet.”