My Ex-Fiancé Stole My Dreams

weight. It wasn't the silence of contemplation, but of a man caught off

re overreacting. This isn't about 'tools.' This is about strategy. You know how important connections are in this field.

per. "At the expense of my entire profess

aused, then added, "And honestly, you've never been one for the spotlight. The public accolades, the presentations... tho

he face of his "logic." He thought I didn't care about recognition, about having my name on my work, because I was quiet, because I preferred the me

t hunger for professional validation. He had always known how much I poured into my work. He had seen my late nights, my early mornings,

who so fundamentally misunderstood me, who saw my entire existence through the lens of his own convenience? My words, my pain,

gnation. "I'm done." I didn't wait for his response. I simply hung up, th

test findings to a panel of esteemed critics and industry leaders. Kisha Fleming, radiant and confident, stood at the podium, presenting m

my slides, flashed behind her, showcasing the intricate details of a vision that was entirely my own. Applause rippled through the

ruly innovative approach to urban renewal. The integration of sustai

. My original drafts, dated and timestamped, next to the published paper. Highlighted sections, verbatim passages, clearly showing the direct transfer of

sha, who had been glowing a moment before, turned ashen. Her eyes darted around the room, wide with panic, her carefully c

anonymous whistleblower. I hadn't leaked anything. But I fe

ment, his jaw tight. He believed it was me. He believed I had betrayed him, sabotaged Kisha, all out of spite. The raw accusation in hi

. "A baseless smear campaign! Ms. Fleming's work is entirely original. Cayla Norris, a former drafting assistant on the project,

ing my decade of dedication to a dismissible footnote. The whispers intensified, now focused on me. "Drafting assistant? She was his fiancée, wasn't she?" "Minimal contribution? I heard she d

d back to Kisha, offering her a reassuring smile. "Continue,

nal worth, my very existence as an architect. And then, he had dismissed my pain, my anger, as the petty jealousy of a "drafting assistant." The contempt, th