She Was My Daughter First

It was the last day of my thirty-fifth year when I discovered my professor husband was cheating.
He came home late, as usual, after his weekly lab meeting, but in the dead of night, he was writhing in agony, clutching his stomach. His tailored dress shirt smelled unmistakably of heavily spiced Creole food.
Alistair Stone, my husband, had a notoriously delicate digestive system. He hadn't touched anything that rich or spicy in the two decades Id known him.
I called his research assistant. Thats when I found out a new female student, Sera, had joined the group that day. Alistair had gone with the groupand indulged herby eating at a trendy, notorious seafood spot known for its fiery Jambalaya.
Its nothing, really, I said, trying to keep my voice even, but Professor Stone has a sensitive stomach. Could you make sure he doesn't eat anything like that again?
A hesitant um came from the other end. Mrs. Stone, to be honest, Sera doesnt even qualify for the research group.
1
Sera. The name wasnt unfamiliar.
A strange, sickening thought exploded in my mind.
Alistair was lying in bed, still resting, his brows tightly furrowed in pain. We had been married for so long, we were too familiar with each other. Too complacent. I easily unlocked his phone.
The lab group chat was benign. Everything looked normal.
Except for the direct messages.
Alistair: You cant fall asleep in the next meeting.
Sera: Well, it was boring! I promise Ill watch you next time, Professor. Watching you keeps me awake.
Alistair: Good.
Sera: Professor Stone sounds so old. Can I call you "Ali" or maybe Little Professor?
Alistair: Hmm. Whatever you like.
Sera: Mwah! (heart-eye emoji)
I pulled up her profile picture and matched it with the photo on his desk. It was her. Sera, the girl I knew.
A cold, heavy knot formed in my chest, lodged between my ribs, making it hard to breathe.
Alistair woke up as the last of the evening light faded.
I handed him a glass of water, placing it alongside the open screen of his phone, displaying their chat. Even as he was recovering, Sera had sent him a barrage of trivial questions.
Little Professor, are we going for Creole again tomorrow?
Ali, I cant write this paper. Can I hire you to ghostwrite it for me? Ill give you second author credit!
She was only a senior in college, not even enrolled in a graduate program. By any rational measure, she shouldn't have been in his master's-level research group.
Make her leave, I said, my voice dangerously low. She knows nothing. Shell drag down your teams progress.
I took a deep, controlled breath. I can pretend this never happened.
Twenty years of history. I was doing my best to let him save face.
Alistairs gaze finally settled on the faintly glowing screen. He squinted at me.
Eliza. He didnt use my nickname, Liz. It was formal, cold.
If I hadn't married you, you'd still just be a girl selling bouquets on a street corner.
2
I had always been the ideal academic wife. Compliant.
I followed Alistairs 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 Alistairs most incriminating text messages.
I was a familiar face at Westhaven. Over the years, Id been in and out of Alistairs department, and the students and faculty all knew me.
As soon as I appeared, one of Alistairs 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 Deans 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, thats enough.
I let out a harsh, mocking laugh. Enough? Were just getting started, Alistair. You were capable of that disgusting act, and now youre 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 hadnt 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.
3
I smiled up at Alistair on the stage.
I had warned him. I wasnt going to make this easy.
Security personnel were scrambling to control the crowd. The Westhaven graduation ceremony, coinciding with the universitys centennial, was already a massive event. Reporters, photographers, and hundreds of students holding up their phones were all focused on Alistair and me.
He grabbed my arm and dragged me into the faculty lounge.
Eliza.
The moment of panic had vanished from his face, and he was back to being Professor Stone: calm, controlled, and infuriated. You know what day this is. What in Gods name are you playing at?
Of course, I knew.
It was the day of the ceremony, and the centennial. Many high-profile alumni were attending, including one key person who held the deciding vote on Alistairs bid for Vice Provost.
That man was Dr. Emeritus Maxwell Max Reid, a titan in both academia and politics.
My connection with Dr. Reids family went back to a single bouquet of roses I sold years ago.
It was Valentines Day. Dr. Reid, absorbed in his research, had completely forgotten about his wife. The old woman, in a huff, stormed out. They ended up arguing over a single rose right in front of my stall.
I intervened, handing the very last rose to Dr. Reids wife, adding a compassionate, necessary lie.
Your husband asked me to save this specific one for you.
Dr. Reid smoothed things over with his wife, and our relationship was forged. Mrs. Reid loved flowers, so every week, Dr. Reid came to my stall to buy her a fresh bouquet.
Then, one ordinary evening, a drunk man randomly ran up and started vandalizing my stall.
The person who grabbed the drunk mans fist as it swung toward me was Alistair.
He had absolutely no fighting talent. After a few clumsy moves, his face was cut, but he managed, through sheer nerve, to chase the man away.
He stayed to help me clean up the wreckage.
Thats when he ran into the reliably punctual Dr. Reid, who had arrived to buy his wifes flowers. Alistair, covered in dirt and blood, ended up talking to Dr. Reid about research, theory, and his academic philosophy.
It wasn't until they were chatting like long-lost friends that Dr. Reid realized Alistair was a masters student at Westhaven.
Dr. Reid immediately broke his long-standing rule about not taking on advisees and brought Alistair under his wing.
From then on, the weekly task of buying flowers for Mrs. Reid fell to Alistair.
Once a week turned into two or three times.
Eventually, it was daily.
He bought roses. He also bought purple irises.
Those were my favorite flowers.
The day he graduated and Dr. Reid secured him a faculty position, he stood before me, holding a massive bouquet.
What, are you here to challenge me for my corner? I joked, looking at the vibrant irises in his arms.
Alistair Stone knelt down and proposed.
Everything felt inevitable.
After we married, I worked from home, writing novels. Thats when Alistair found out I had a graduate degree in literature. Selling flowers was just a side hustle.
After all, the publishing industry was brutally competitive.
Now, the flowers were the same, but the person was not.
It was a hollow, desolate feeling.
But thank God. In this lifetime, he was the only miserable thing that had happened to me. The only piece of trash.
It wasnt too late to start over.
4
Eliza, Im giving you a chance. Go outside and clear my name.
Alistairs anger was palpable.
I found the request hilarious. In this cheating marriage, I should have been the one engulfed in righteous fury. Instead, because I hadnt collapsed in tears and self-pity, because I was fighting back to feel better, the guilty partiesAlistair and Serahad managed to cast themselves as the victims.
What exactly do you want me to say? I asked.
That I was betrayed by the girl I sponsored and raised? That my husband slept with his nominal foster daughter and student?
I met his gaze. Time had been incredibly kind to Alistair; two decades hadnt left a single mark on his distinguished face.
Eliza, know when to quit, he repeated, his brow furrowed.
That sentence again.
What did I have to quit? Id seen my husbands hostility. Id seen the girl I raised as my own daughter crawl into his bed. Id seen the ugly display of betrayal they offered me.
Alistair, you dont get to tell me what to do.
I laughed until the tears started. That knot in my chest refused to go down. I grabbed Alistair's academic gown, ripping the seam. Beneath it, I saw a familiar dress shirt.
The one Sera had said she bought for her boyfriend.
Theyd been involved for much longer than I realized.
Alistair, I will not let you off easy! And SeraIm not the kind of person who keeps quiet when wronged.
I screamed the words, frantic and desperate.
I will ruin your career! And Sera? I pulled her up from hell, so Im going to drag her right back down. I will make sure her parents and everyone shes ever known finds out that the ungrateful, backstabbing leech slept with her foster father!
A flicker of somethingfear, or surprisecrossed Alistairs eyes.
He clamped down hard on my wrist.
What have you done?
His grip tightened, his knuckles white. I thought my hand would break.
I smiled, a manic, wild thing.
What can I do?
I just want her dead!
Before he could react, a much louder, more violent commotion erupted from the auditorium. Alistair ran out, frantic.
On the stage, a middle-aged woman was screaming obscenities"whore," "slut," "home-wrecker."
Below her, Sera was curled up, taking blow after blow, one slap after another.
5
Seras mother, Brenda, was a formidable fighter. The security guards stood frozen for a moment.
Seras face was already red with welts. Her graduation gown was ripped, revealing the dress underneaththe exact same outfit she had texted to Alistair just days before.
What are you doing? Pull her off! Alistair shouted.
The guards finally moved in, and Brenda let go easily, offering little resistance.
As her eyes met mine, I gave a small, satisfied nod.
It was enough.
The beating wasnt severe. Even a police examination would barely register a minor injury.
But in this setting, on this day, Seras reputation as the mistress would stick to her forever.
Her supposedly bright future was over.
The tight knot in my heart eased, if only slightly.
Alistair clutched Sera close, shielding her. He looked at me, his eyes colder than Id ever seen them.
Eliza, youve gone too far.
I gave a cold laugh. Ive gone too far? If shes going to be a mistress, she needs to be able to take a beating.
He turned to leave. Alistair, I called out, if you take her out like this, youll never clear your name.
He stopped, but didnt turn around.
Eliza, isnt this exactly what you wanted? he said, his voice laced with venom.
You wanted proof that I cheated? Proof that Sera and I are real?
Well, as you wish.
After Alistair left, the students began to filter out. The looks I received were a mix of pity, confusion, and blame.
This whole spectacleit felt like I had gained nothing, only momentarily vented my rage on Sera. And in the process, Id confirmed Alistairs devotion to her and finalized the failure of my own marriage.
In the struggle, Brenda hadnt escaped unscathed, with a few cuts on her face.
She hunched over, a fawning smile pasted on her face.
Mrs. Stone, I did what you asked. About my sons college fund
Dont worry, I said. I keep my promises.
Brendas youngest son had just started high school.
Sera wasn't Brendas biological daughter. She was the result of Seras fathers affair with a woman in the village. Because of this, Brenda had never accepted her, making Seras childhood a living nightmare.
I met Sera when she was ten.
The family was sending her to work in a factory to support them. When I visited the school as a donor, she knelt directly in front of me. Her eyes were resolute. She wanted nothing more than to read, to study, to make something of herself.
I saw a ghost of myself in her. If someone had just extended a hand to me back then, perhaps my path wouldn't have been so relentlessly difficult.
Because I empathized with my younger self, I chose to shelter Sera, to give her a bright future. I sponsored her. When I learned the full extent of her abuseespecially the part about her sleeping in the pigpenI gave Brenda a substantial sum and brought Sera home to raise her myself.
For over a decade, we were not mother and daughter, but we were closer than most.
I could have perhaps accepted Alistair cheating with anyone else. I could not accept the girl I considered my daughter climbing into my husbands bed.
Especially not the night I confronted her about their texts.
She wore a flimsy lace slip and flaunted her triumph, right in front of me.
Eliza, you may have raised me, but all the money I eat and wear comes from Little Professor!
Her gaze was disdainful as she looked me up and down. Honestly, I pity Little Professor. You look like this, and youre such a bad cook.
I slapped her across the face.
She ran crying to Alistair.
Afterward, looking at my slightly red palm, the pain was mixed with an insidious, rising thrill.
I realized: I only feel good when they hurt.
I dragged her out of the abyss, hoisted her up from the pit.
It was only fair that I send her back myself.
6
Alistair stayed by Seras side in the hospital for three days straight.
A few days later, I received a choked-up phone call from Brendas son.
Aunt Eliza, I have nowhere else to go. Please, you have to save my mother!
From his fragmented story, I pieced together the truth. Alistair had used his influence. Sera had filed a police report, and her injuries were classified as Second-Degree Assault. Enough to detain and fine Brenda heavily.
Alistairs lawyer had dropped a line before leaving: If Brenda named others involved, the charges might be reduced.
Brendas son wept. Aunt Eliza, Mom told me to tell you that she wont say anything.
I reassured the boy and guaranteed his mother would be fine.
Alistair was only using Brenda to send a message. His true target was me.
Predictably, his call came almost immediately.
Ive talked to the university. You will attend a press conference this afternoon and clarify everything.
He added, chillingly, If you need a psychiatric diagnosis, I can arrange the paperwork.
Westhaven was clearly preparing to protect Alistair at all costs.
I laughed quietly. And what happens if I refuse to cooperate?
His voice was tight with suppressed fury.
Eliza, dont force my hand.
I dont want things to devolve into a scorched-earth scenario between us.
Peaceful? I laughed until tears streamed down my face.
Ultimately, I agreed to the press conference.
On the drive over, I scrolled through the headlines.
Westhaven Wifes Meltdown: Jealousy or Mental Illness?
Professors Wife to Kneel and Apologize to Foster Daughter/Student to Save Marriage?
Abused or Adored? Leaks Detail Professors Wifes Alleged Physical Abuse of Foster Child.
When I arrived at the venue, it was packed with reporters. As soon as they saw me, they swarmed. The flashbulbs were so bright I could barely keep my eyes open.
Mrs. Stone, did you physically abuse your foster daughter?
Mrs. Stone, do you have a severe mental health condition? Is that why you targeted all women near Professor Stone?
Mrs. Stone, Professor Stone says youre here to apologize on your knees to the student. Is that true?
I smiled sweetly. Kneeling and apologizing? Well, then you better get ready to film. I wouldn't want you to miss the moment.
I bypassed the crowd and headed to the backstage lounge. Alistair was gently feeding Sera water.
Sera, pale and fragile, instinctively hid in Alistairs arms when she saw me.
Mrs. Stone, she whispered, timidly. The Little Professor was just giving me water because Im thirsty. Were doing nothing wrong. Please dont worry.
She added a few theatrical coughs.
I raised an eyebrow. Oh, dont stop on my account. Youre already hugging. I suggest you go mouth-to-mouth. Its cleaner and more hygienic, after all.
Seras eyes turned red. She pleaded, Mrs. Stone, I respect that you funded my education, but my dignity wont allow you to slander me.
The Little Professor and I have always been pure and respectful. Nothing like the nasty things you imagine.
Eliza, remember why youre here, Alistair warned.
He put down the cup. The three of us took our places in front of the assembled reporters.
Sera took the microphone first. She played the role of the innocent, wronged victim perfectly.
Mrs. Stone, I remember your kindness over the years, but you have defamed and slandered me and the Professor. If you do not offer me a traditional apologya formal bow and a peace offeringtoday, I will reserve the right to pursue further legal action.
A cup of hot tea sat steaming in front of me.
Smash!
The scalding tea and my palm landed on Seras face at the same time.
She screamed, clutching her cheek. Her carefully constructed image of the pure, delicate flower instantly shattered.

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