LOGINChapter 46
Daniella’s
PovThe sound of my phone ringing on the kitchen counter feels like a warning bell, but I cannot take my eyes off Kent’s face as he reads the message from his lawyer.
The color drains entirely out of his skin. His jaw locks so tight a muscle twitches in his cheek. He stands frozen in the middle of the bright kitchen, the man who was laughing and holding me just a minute ago suddenly caught in the crosshairs of a billionaire war. My heart hammers against my ribs, heavy and fast, because I know what this means. This is the real test. We are no longer hiding in dusty supply closets or sharing stolen moments in quiet hallways. The shield of his family’s wealth is gone, and we are standing completely exposed to the elements.
"Kent," I whisper, stepping across the tile floor to stand right in front of him. I reach out, gently touching his stiff arm. "Talk to me. What did Marcus say?"
Kent slowly lowers his phone, his dark eyes looking down at me with a heavy mix of anger and worry. "They did it," he says, his voice rough and low. "My grandfather filed the papers. My personal bank accounts are officially frozen, and the legal proceedings to strip me from the family trust have started."
The words hang in the heavy air like a dark cloud.
Just like that, the billionaire heir of the family business is gone. No trust fund, no safety net, no expensive cars, and no endless supply of money. He is just a professor with a salary, a mortgage on a penthouse he might not even be able to keep, and a pregnant girlfriend who was supposed to be a nobody scholarship student.
Instead of feeling panic or relief, a strange kind of calm washes over me. I don't want his family’s blood money. I never did.
I take his cold hand in both of mine, squeezing his fingers tight. "Okay," I say clearly, keeping my voice steady.
Kent blinks, looking down at me like he expects me to burst into tears or pack my bags right then and there. "Okay? Daniella, do you understand what this means? I am broke. Or I will be by the end of the week. I can't offer you a luxury penthouse, designer clothes, or a grand lifestyle anymore. We are going to have to start completely from scratch."
"I never wanted your luxury penthouse, Kent," I tell him, a small, honest smile touching my lips as I look straight into his worried eyes. "I wanted you. Just you. If we have to live in a tiny apartment, eat cheap noodles, and work two jobs to pay the bills for our baby, then we will do it together. I am not running away."
Kent stares at me. His chest heaves with a massive, shaky breath, and the fierce tension in his shoulders suddenly melts away. A look of overwhelming, raw emotion sweeps across his face, so deep and powerful it makes my own eyes sting with hot tears.
He pulls his hand free only to wrap both arms tightly around my waist, lifting me slightly off the floor as he buries his face in my neck. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding onto him just as fiercely.
"You really mean that, don't you?" he whispers against my skin, his voice thick with tears. "You're not afraid of losing everything?"
"I'm only afraid of losing you," I murmur truthfully.
For the rest of the day, the heavy shadow of the lawsuit disappears. We sit together at the kitchen island, but instead of stressing over court dates and frozen accounts, we actually start planning our real life. We talk about our baby—how we will set up a small nursery, what names we like, and how we will balance our classes and teaching schedules. We talk about our careers, deciding that Kent will keep teaching because it is what he loves, and I will finish my degree no matter what it takes. We talk about marriage, agreeing that when the time finally comes, it won't be in a giant cathedral surrounded by fake friends and corporate enemies, but in a small, quiet place with people who actually care about us.
For the first time since we met, our relationship feels like a genuine partnership. We are equals. Two people building something from the ground up, hand in hand.
By evening, the sun begins to set, casting a deep orange and purple glow across the city skyline outside the penthouse windows. We are sitting together on the couch, sharing a simple bowl of soup, feeling more peaceful than we have in months.
Then, the illusion of safety shatters.
A sharp, persistent knocking echoes loudly from the heavy front door of the penthouse.
We both freeze. Kent sets his bowl down on the coffee table, his jaw tightening instantly. Before he can stand up to check the security monitor, a loud murmur of voices rises from just outside the glass windows of the balcony.
I stand up slowly, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling living room windows and pulling the heavy sheer curtain back just an inch.
My breath catches in my throat.
Down on the street, gathered right outside the main gates of the building, is a massive crowd of people. Camera flashes pop like lightning storms in the gathering dark. Microphones are thrust into the air, and reporters are shouting questions up toward the building, their angry voices echoing off the pavement below.
"They found us," I whisper, turning around to look at Kent with wide eyes. "The media is already here."
Kent walks over, standing beside me and looking down at the swirling circus of cameras and reporters below. His expression is hard, cold, and entirely unafraid. He doesn't look like a man who just lost his fortune. He looks like a man protecting his kingdom.
He reaches out, his warm hand wrapping firmly around my waist, pulling me safely back against his side.
"Let them shout," Kent says, his voice low, steady, and fierce as he looks down into my eyes. He places his other hand gently over my stomach, right where our baby rests. "Let my family send every reporter, lawyer, and judge they have. It doesn't change a single thing."
He pulls me closer, pressing a firm, protective kiss to the top of my head, making a promise that drowns out all the noise outside.
"No amount of money, family pressure, or public humiliation will ever make me let you go again, Daniella," Kent vows quietly. "We are in this together, forever."
.Chapter SIXTY FiveDaniella’s PovMarcus’s words ring in my head all night: As soon as she’ll let me put a ring on her finger.My hand drifts to the silver jade bracelet on my wrist. I am ready. I don't want a stage, I don't want cameras flashing red dots, and I don't want high-society wives whispering over champagne flutes. I want quiet, private, and real.Next morning, Kent acts weird. He checks his phone twice while making coffee. He taps his screen with a tight, focused thumb, then slips it into his pocket fast when I walk into the kitchen.Old instincts twitch. Is Robert pulling another supply line? Did Dean Holloway reopen the review?I catch myself. I am not living in paranoia mode anymore. I lean against the fridge, sipping black coffee, and watch him zip a small leather folio bag."You're acting like a spy trading secrets in a alley, Vance," I tease, raising an eyebrow.Kent pauses, turning around with a slow, faint smirk touching his mouth. "Just organizing workflow. Put y
Chapter Sixty FourKent’s PovWalking through the brick archways of campus feels like walking through a minefield where half the mines already blew up.Daniella’s phone notification cleared her name, restoring her scholarship and good standing like a clean slate. My name at the bottom of the dean's footer? Still locked in limbo. Formal department review. Corporate compliance shadow trailing my syllabus like a ghost.I pull open the heavy double doors of the economics department hall. Daniella walks beside me, carrying a fresh leather notebook, looking sharp and clear-eyed.Dean Holloway intercepts us by the faculty mailboxes. Her expression is granite-tight—not hostile, just heavy with institutional gravity."Dr. Vance," Holloway says, looking between us. "Miss Vance is cleared of the extortion conspiracy trace. Her roster stands." She turns her sharp gaze to me. "The board review regarding your faculty standing remains active. We cannot have a direct instructor-student dynamic in upp
Chapter Sixty ThreeDaniella’s PovTears blur my vision, warm and clean, as Kent pulls me up from the porch boards and into a tight, hard embrace that feels like safety carved out of stone."I believe you," I whisper against his shoulder, my voice cracking with honesty. "I don't doubt your heart, Kent. Not anymore."We sit back down on the weathered porch bench, the ocean roaring low in the dark. My fingers touch the silver chain and white jade resting on my wrist. I look up at him, moonlight cutting silver across his sharp jaw."How we started still messes with my head sometimes," I admit quietly, staring at the grain of the wood. "A setup office, a blackmailer in the dark, a cold professor who didn't want messy feelings, and a baby making choices for us before we even knew how to talk."Kent covers my hand with his big, heavy palm. His eyes are dark, deep, and steady. "The start was a wreck, Daniella. I won't lie about that. My grandfather built a cage, Gareth set a trap, and I walk
Chapter Sixty TwoDaniella’s PovMorning light hits the cheap kitchen blinds, and I lay the cold truth out on the table like open blueprints."Zero trusts," I tell Daniella, tracing a finger across a pad of yellow legal paper. "Gone. The family real estate portfolio in the valley—revoked access codes. The sovereign equity line through grandfather’s syndicate—locked out. Dividend distribution rights from the baseline parent trust—terminated."I look up, waiting for her shoulders to drop. Waiting for the realization that she chained herself to a sinking ship.Daniella sits cross-legged on the chair, sipping black coffee, her dark eyes steady and unblinking. "What’s left in your name alone?""My independent stock portfolio from pre-venture advisory advisory fees, two hundred thousand in liquid cash sitting in a clean credit union account, and Vance Advisory Group intellectual property rights," I say, laying out the exact math. "It’s enough to cover payroll, office rent for six months, an
Chapter Sixty OneKent’s PovMy thumb hovers over the cracked screen where Freya’s email sits like a bomb waiting to go off, breathing frozen in my throat.Clack. Kent drops his keys on the counter.I don't look at the phone draft yet. I look straight into his tired eyes."Freya called," I say, my voice flat and sharp as a blade.Kent’s shoulders lock. The tiredness on his face turns into hard stone. "What did she say?""She said you sat with Robert. She said there's a paper copy sitting in your briefing folder right now tying my enrollment audit clearance to your wire release." I cross my arms, forcing my legs steady. "Tell me straight, Kent. Did Robert put an exit clause with my name on it?"Kent stares at me for two long seconds. Then he lets out a heavy, ragged breath, running a hand down his face. He walks past the kitchen island, dropping his heavy leather portfolio onto the table with a dull thud. He flips the brass latches, pulls out a single thick sheaf of cream legal paper,
Chapter SixtyDaniella’s PovMy stomach twists into a hard knot when Kent says the name of the man waiting at the Sterling Club.Robert Vance. Freya’s father.The air in the kitchen turns cold. I look at Kent standing tall in his dark jacket, ready to walk into a shadow trap for four million dollars of bridge liquidity. My throat tightens. Every instinct tells me this isn't an investment meeting—it's an ambush wrapped in a wire transfer. Robert wants Kent crawling back to the family tree, humiliated and broke.I open my mouth to warn him, to beg him to skip it, then catch myself.No. I am not playing the frantic, controlling high-society wife who tells him how to breathe.I step across the floor, reaching out to rest my palms flat against his chest, right over his steady, heavy heartbeat. I look straight into his dark eyes."Remember what you promised me, Kent," I say quietly, keeping my voice clear and firm. "You said our relationship would never turn into another corporate deal. Wha
Kent's POV“Oh god, yes…”“Fuck, bounce on me faster, that's it.”“K-Kent… I'm c-close… ahh…”“I'm gonna fucking cum too… you're squeezing so fucking tight— fuck!”I should have stopped on the couch and sent her back home but I couldn't get enough of her. I couldn't help but make her ride my cock o
Daniella's POV“Professor Kent?” I called out softly but he remained put.Was he the donor I was supposed to attend the private event with? Why did he look so terrifying yet so… beautiful?The heat inside me was starting to grow even worse and I could feel my nipples hardening through my gown just
Daniella’s POVMy legs were sore from having stood all day in the lecture hall, so when I relaxed against the wall, it felt like my body was numb. But I endured it because my boyfriend was in the teacher's lounge and I had to wait for him.While waiting, I heard voices coming from in there and I co
He was losing control and he knew it. He knew something was wrong when he had his phone in front of him, a video of two people fucking on the screen, and he couldn't bring himself to jerk the cum out of his cock.His hands weren't giving him the pleasure he needed anymore and this wasn't some rando







