My Girlfriend Stole My Thesis To Save Her Secret Husband

The deadline for my master’s thesis was looming, and I was deep into the job search. I asked my girlfriend, Sienna, who was a tenured professor at The Met, to write me a letter of recommendation.

She looked at me with a cold stare, her lips forming a thin, disapproving line. “You should rely on your own merits, Rowan. People who always look for shortcuts don’t go far. You need to be fair.”

I flushed with shame. I spent the next weeks obsessively preparing for interviews, fueled by late nights and sheer anxiety. I tried to forget her words.

But after my final interview, the floor dropped out from under me. I was walking past the official university bulletin board when I saw the list of new research fellows. My name wasn’t there, but another one was: Dean Ellis. And right next to it, under the “Spousal/Partner Consideration” clause, was the name of his “spouse”—Sienna Wells.

They were married. Legally. Suddenly, I wasn’t the one preparing for a new life; I was the other man.

When I finally confronted her, Sienna didn’t even flinch. “Dean is my late advisor’s son. Helping him isn’t a ‘shortcut.’ As for the marriage certificate… it was temporary. A professional arrangement. Once he’s secure in the position, I’ll file the papers and we’ll finally get married.”

I laughed. It was a sharp, ugly sound that caught in my throat. I turned away, and in that instant, I made a new decision. I would contact Natalie Grant, my senior, and join her research team abroad.

The woman with no boundaries and the wreckage of this relationship. I was done with both.

1

I pushed my way through the crowd gathered around the university’s official posting board, straining to see the list. Finally, I got close enough. I scanned the list of new research fellows at The Metropolitan University again and again. The thin sheet of paper didn’t hold my name.

I sighed, deflated. The competition for The Met’s prestigious positions was always brutal.

I was turning to leave when a woman beside me gasped, pointing toward a smaller section. “I’m so jealous of people whose spouses have Ph.D.s. Imagine getting a job at The Met just because of who you married.”

My girlfriend has a Ph.D., I thought bitterly, and I still didn’t get in.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a name on the special talent acquisition list: Sienna Wells.

It was listed clearly: New Research Fellow – Dean Ellis. Spouse – Sienna Wells.

My entire body swayed as if I’d been punched in the gut. Dean Ellis? He was Sienna’s junior colleague, her mentee. If they were legally married, then what the hell did that make me?

I immediately pulled out my phone and dialed her number. “Sienna, hey, I—”

“I told you not to call me during the day, Rowan. I’m probably in a lecture.”

The line went dead, clipped and precise.

Staring at the silent phone, I still couldn’t accept it. I walked quickly to Sienna’s office building. Before I could even raise my hand to knock, I heard a man’s voice inside.

“Sienna, thank you. I don’t think I would’ve gotten into The Met without you.”

“Dean, don’t be ridiculous. It’s no trouble. If The Met hadn’t suddenly changed its policy—only hiring Ph.D.s or Ph.D. spouses—we wouldn’t have had to do this.”

“But, Sienna, what about Rowan? Won’t he be upset? Maybe I should explain it to him.”

“Don’t worry about him. He didn’t get the job on his own merit. We don’t need him getting jealous and making a scene.”

“Okay. Well, let me take you out to dinner tonight.”

“I’d like that.”

I pulled out my phone and quickly typed a message to Sienna:

[I didn’t get the fellowship. I’m feeling really awful. Could you have dinner with me tonight?]

I heard the distinct ding of her phone inside the office, but no reply came. I could picture it perfectly: her picking up the phone, seeing my message, and putting it back down with a frown.

The door opened. I scrambled to hide, only managing to catch the sight of Sienna and Dean walking away, laughing together, their backs to me.

I returned to my shared apartment and sat on the sofa in the dark until deep into the night. Sienna finally came home hours later.

“Sienna, I texted you. Didn’t you see it?”

Her body stiffened, and a look of annoyance crossed her face. “What message? I’m busy all day, Rowan. I don’t have time to constantly check in with you.”

“Did you know I was rejected for the research fellowship?”

She shrugged dismissively. “With your qualifications, I’m not surprised. The competition was intense.”

My chest felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. “My qualifications? I was top of the program! I won countless awards in my field!”

I couldn’t hold back the anger any longer. “Dean Ellis has never won a thing, but he used your name to get the job. You wouldn’t even write me a recommendation letter, and you call that not taking a shortcut?”

“You know?” Sienna showed no shame, only irritation that I had discovered her secret.

“Rowan, it’s just one fellowship. Don’t be so aggressive. Dean was rejected for every other job he applied for. He’s my advisor’s son—my advisor is gone. I couldn’t just leave him high and dry.”

“And my career doesn’t matter? He’s your husband. What does that make me? The mistress?” I choked out the last word.

Sienna’s tone softened slightly, a practiced shift. “Rowan, it’s a temporary measure. A contingency. As soon as he’s stable, I’ll file the divorce papers. Then we’ll have the wedding we planned.”

Hearing that, my resolve weakened, as it always did. “Fine. But no contact outside of what is strictly necessary for his job.”

“Deal.”

2

After the rejection from The Met, I focused on finishing my final thesis while restarting the job hunt.

The next day, after submitting my final work, I was reviewing job postings when my faculty advisor called.

“Rowan, what happened? Your final thesis submission is identical to Dean Ellis’s, and he submitted his yesterday.”

“That’s impossible, Professor. Please, wait while I check my files.” I opened my laptop and found that the creation history for my thesis had been completely manipulated, all the timestamps altered to show a submission date of yesterday.

The sickening realization was immediate, but I fought against believing it. “Professor, please, you have to trust me. This work is entirely mine. Give me a few days; I will provide irrefutable proof to the department.”

My fingers trembling, I called Sienna. No answer.

Then I checked the anonymous campus Confessional App. A post accusing me of plagiarizing Dean Ellis’s final project had just gone up, racking up hundreds of comments within thirty minutes.

[No way. Isn’t Rowan Finn top of the program?]

[Who knows how he got those grades before?]

[Dean seems to have the original creation files. That proves Rowan stole it.]

I quickly hacked into the app’s backend, intending to delete the post, but an immediate counter-attack blocked me. Someone was actively protecting the thread.

I gave up on deleting it and started a new post, detailing my academic history, listing my awards, outlining the core idea of my thesis, and promising to deliver proof of my independent creation within days.

It took mere minutes for my post to be deleted.

I contacted the administrator, who cryptically told me it wasn’t him, but that I shouldn’t bother trying again. Someone powerful was clearly working to shut down any defense.

I understood immediately: someone was covering for Dean, someone with technical skills equal to or better than mine. In the entire graduating class and faculty, only a handful of people—Sienna being the most likely—fit that description.

I ran to the main Computer Science lab, only to find Dean introducing his project to a group of classmates. “This is the latest artificial intelligence prototype…”

Watching my two months of relentless work being displayed on the screen, I roared, “Dean Ellis, that is my final thesis!”

Dean turned to me, his expression wounded. “Rowan, what are you talking about? You can’t just claim it’s yours because I showed you a few early designs.”

“If you say it’s yours, show them the proof!”

Dean calmly pulled up the creation log, which, predictably, showed a timeline beginning two months ago—the exact time I had started the work.

My classmates began to intervene. “Rowan, we know you’re smart, but Dean has the evidence. Just apologize to him.”

“Yeah, plagiarism is a huge deal. The department is already investigating. Apologize quickly before Dean decides to press charges.”

Their gazes felt like daggers, but I refused to back down. “Dean Ellis, I will prove that this work is mine.”

I had installed specific tracking and backup software on my machine, a redundancy even Sienna didn’t know about. I’d done it out of paranoia, never expecting it would be necessary. Now, it was my only hope. I knew the truth would come out soon, but until it did, I was stuck wearing the scarlet letter of a plagiarist.

3

Inside Sienna’s office. “Sienna, this is all my fault. Rowan looks furious.”

Sienna frowned slightly. “He still has time before graduation. He can just make a new one. Don’t worry about him. My advisor asked me to look after you. I can’t let you fail to graduate.”

“Sienna, I know. My father told me the core of the AI you developed years ago was named ‘The S-D Core’—after our names.”

Dean paused, his voice turning soft. “I was young and stupid to refuse you then. Who knew Rowan would come into your life later? I had to bury those feelings. But if, Sienna, you were willing to…”

Sienna cut him off. “The past is the past, Dean. Let’s not bring it up again. We’ll file the divorce papers once you’re settled in your job.”

The S-D Core. That explained why she had always refused my requests to study her AI algorithm. It was the legacy of her past love. A “White Moonlight” object. And I had just been the placeholder, a stepping stone for her to pave the way back to him. The realization was bitterly comical.

I texted Natalie Grant, my senior: [I’ve made my decision. I’m joining Professor Alistair’s research team.]

[Excellent. I’ll fly back to pick you up in a week.]

When Sienna returned to the apartment, I was packing my suitcase.

She grabbed my arm. “What are you doing? It’s just a final thesis, Rowan. Are you running away over this?”

I yanked my arm away. “Just a thesis? Do you know the heart and soul I poured into that? And Dean plagiarized it. I will make him pay for this.”

“It was me. It had nothing to do with him. Don’t blame Dean.”

I threw the clothes in my hand onto the floor. “I knew it was you!”

I flashed back to that night. After tapping out the final line of code, I’d saved the file and was about to send it when Sienna walked in. “Finished your thesis?”

“Just now. I was about to send it to the department.”

“Wait a minute. Let me check it over for you.” Sienna was a year ahead of me and a verified genius in our field.

She sat down. Less than two minutes later, she told me there was a minor bug she had already fixed. “Don’t worry about it. Let it stabilize overnight. Send it in tomorrow.” She then rushed out.

Returning to the present, I demanded, “You did this for Dean. Did you even consider my position? How am I supposed to face the university and my colleagues now?”

Sienna bit her lip. She did know. But in her mind, Dean needed that thesis more, so she hadn’t cared about the cost to me.

“It’s done. Just drop it, Rowan. I’ll help you create a new thesis.” She reached for my laptop, but I slapped her hand away with force.

“Don’t touch my computer! I’m afraid I’ll plagiarize someone else’s work if you do!” I fought back the tears and pushed her out the door. “Get out!”

For the next three days, I holed up. I didn’t just create a new thesis; I perfected the original, developing a powerful, improved version of the AI project. I sent the file to Natalie, asking her to relay it to Professor Alistair.

I successfully avoided Sienna for those three days, sidestepping her attempts at conversation.

4

That evening, the class president notified me about the graduation trip scheduled for the next day. Since I was leaving the country soon, I agreed to attend.

When I boarded the bus, I saw Sienna seated next to Dean Ellis.

The class president rushed over when he saw my glance. “Everyone, this is Dean’s wife, Sienna Wells, our department’s legendary senior alum!”

I walked past them without a word and took a seat in the back. A shadow fell over me, and Sienna sat down beside me.

“I didn’t think you’d come. Dean said some of his classmates were talking, so I decided to join for support.”

I managed a dry smile. “Talking? Weren’t they talking about me?”

Sienna’s face darkened. “I owe you an apology for that. But you have to believe me…”

“I don’t.” I cut her off, putting on my headphones and closing my eyes, signaling the conversation was over.

Dean came over and sat on the armrest next to Sienna. “Rowan, I know you’re angry, but it’s done. You just need to stop struggling.”

“Stop struggling for what? For you stealing my work? Or for you stealing my girlfriend?” My words were loud enough to cause a stir in the seats behind us.

Dean looked panicked. “What are you talking about? I was kind enough to have the president invite you, and you not only refuse to repent but you slander me!”

“Slander? Ask her.” I looked pointedly at Sienna, hoping that even now, she’d offer a shred of honesty out of respect for our relationship.

“Rowan, we had something, I know, but please don’t talk about Dean this way. He is, after all… my husband.” Sienna’s eyes pleaded with me.

“See? I told you she wouldn’t lie about being married.”

“Rowan Finn is totally shameless, isn’t he? A plagiarist and a homewrecker.”

Their whispers made my heart pound with rage. “Sienna Wells, I hope you never stop regretting what you just said!”

The bus soon arrived at our first stop. I bolted out and began walking into the distance. Sienna started to follow, but Dean pulled her back. “Sienna, my dad said you’ve been to this place before. Can you show me around?”

Sienna hesitated, looked at my retreating back, and then stopped.

I walked for a long time, lost in my own resentment. When it was time for the next part of the itinerary, I rushed back to the bus parking lot, only to find the spot empty. No car, no people.

I called the class president. “Dean said the next site was much more interesting, and everyone agreed to leave early,” the president explained.

“You should have notified me! You can’t just abandon me here!”

“Rowan, honestly, you haven’t been easy to deal with. No one really wanted you along. Sienna said it wasn’t far from your apartment, and you could just call a cab.” The president hung up.

Holding the dead phone, I buried my face in my hands, fighting back tears of humiliation.

It doesn’t matter. Graduation was tomorrow. I would prove my innocence then.

The Metropolitan University’s commencement ceremony was about to begin. I had already submitted my final evidence—the original data, the recovery logs, and the new thesis—to my advisor and the department.

I took my seat. Dean Ellis, having been designated an Outstanding Graduate for his “thesis,” sat in the front row. Next to him was Sienna Wells, invited back as a celebrated alumna to address the graduates.

Sienna was clearly agitated, constantly scanning the room. She finally spotted me and started to stand, but Dean pulled her back. I made sure to avoid her gaze entirely.

The ceremony proceeded: President’s address, Dean’s speech, then the capping and diploma distribution.

Two hours passed. The final graduate walked off the stage. I was still sitting in my seat. “Our capping and diploma distribution ceremony is officially concluded…”

Suddenly, a familiar voice boomed over the microphone. “Wait a minute. It’s not over yet. There’s still one student who hasn’t been capped.”