The Mistress Wanted My Research Career

When I slid the divorce papers across the kitchen island toward Simon, my voice sounded like it belonged to someone else—someone carved entirely out of ice.

"You walk away with nothing," I said. "That is your only option."

Three days ago, I was pulling an all-nighter in the lab, furiously formatting my dissertation, when my phone screen lit up. It was an Instagram post from the newest PhD student in our research group, Paige. She had uploaded a screenshot of an acceptance email from Nature Chemistry, listing her as the first author.