The Downfall of My Professor Husband

My name is Yvonne Sinclair. Years ago, I poured nearly all my strength into marrying Lucas Shane. Lucas Shane was a psychology professor at a prestigious university. His gentle and refined demeanor once made me believe I had found a lifelong support. But after marriage, life gradually veered away from the path I had imagined. Lucas Shane wouldn't allow me to work, claiming his income was enough to support the family and wanting me to be a full-time wife without worries. At first, I thought it was out of concern for me, but later I realized he was controlling my contact with the outside world. He insisted on having constant access to my phone, and whenever friends invited me out, he always found some excuse for me to decline. Over time, my social circle shrank until it felt like he was the only person left by my side. In a few days, the school was to hold an important academic banquet. As a distinguished guest, Lucas Shane had to attend—and wanted me to accompany him. I began preparing several days in advance for this banquet, hoping to make myself worthy of being Professor Shane's wife. The day before the banquet, Lucas said he needed to go to the school to discuss some matters with his colleagues and asked me to wait for him at home. Thinking he might need a document, I gathered the files and drove to his office. As I neared the office door, I heard the voices of Lucas and other professors inside. For some inexplicable reason, I didn't immediately open the door. I heard an unfamiliar male voice ask Lucas, "Professor Shane, is that method of control you use on Yvonne really that effective?" Lucas Shane's voice carried a faint, barely noticeable pride: "That's the allure of psychology—if you seize her weaknesses, you can make her comply." "She cares about me so deeply that whenever I show the slightest dissatisfaction, she immediately reflects on herself and never suspects me." My heart sank instantly, and my hands and feet turned cold. Then, another voice asked, "Aren't you afraid that Yvonne Sinclair will find out about you and that student named Claire Sharpe?" Claire Sharpe? A name flashed through my mind—she was Lucas Shane's prized student, reputed to be intelligent and diligent. Lucas Shane chuckled softly, "What's there to fear? I'm watching Yvonne Sinclair so closely that she doesn't stand a chance of finding out." "Besides, Claire Sharpe is sensible; she knows what should be done and what shouldn't be said." I couldn't bear to listen to the rest. I realized that the deep affection and care I believed in were nothing but a web of deceit he wove using psychological tactics. He didn't love me; he was only controlling me. He and his female student had long been involved in an improper relationship. Suppressing my tears, I quietly slipped away and drove home. Back in the empty house, I sat on the sofa, my mind a whirlwind of confusion. Anger, grievance, and defiance—a tangle of emotions that nearly overwhelmed me. I remembered that, at the start, to support Lucas Shane's academic work, I had planned to donate a laboratory building to the school in my name, hoping to strengthen his position there. But now, looking at the donation letter I had long prepared, I've made a decision. This building—I will no longer donate it to Lucas Shane. I thought of Edward Porter, my father's business partner and the director of a research institution—a man of integrity who had always admired my talents. When I got married, Mr. Porter even advised me not to sacrifice my career for the sake of the marriage, but I didn't listen at the time. Now, I dialed Mr. Porter's number. After the call connected, I took a deep breath and said, "Mr. Porter, regarding the building donation plan I mentioned earlier, I want to make a change." "I won't donate to the school where Lucas works. I want to donate this building to your research institution to support your work." Mr. Porter on the other end of the line was momentarily stunned, then said, "Yvonne Sinclair, have you really thought this through? This is no small amount." "I've made up my mind," I said firmly, "I believe your Research Institution can make better use of this building, and that's certainly better than donating it to some people." After hanging up, I looked out at the darkening sky, feeling the confusion in my heart recede, replaced by a growing resolve. Lucas Shane, since you can treat me this way, don't blame me for being ruthless. The facade of this marriage must be torn apart. And I must begin to fight back for myself.