Chapter 8

Patience's POV

Yvette stood by my side. Though oblivious to the pheromone clashes, she sensed the shifting atmosphere.

She said indignantly, "What's this about not having a college degree? Patience graduated from the prestigious Thornmoon Military Academy!"

Lionel, recovering from the earlier aura, retorted, "That academy was founded by the Lycan King for royalty to train werewolf warriors and gammas. Don't lie for her sake."

"Patience, your friend's as shameless as you are, weaving tales just to save face!"

"Exactly! Would someone from Thornmoon Military Academy mate with Kelsey and toil away as an ordinary clerk in his company?"

Their jeers erupted like shrill laughter, while Hazel's expression relaxed.

She stood up and sneered, "If you're going to boast, have proof. Falsifying your education only makes you lookridiculous!"

Yvette, seething, shot back, "Proof's easy—just check the official records! Facts are facts. You lot only excel at gossip."

I calmed Yvette with a gesture and turned to Hazel.

"My credentials and past are none of your business. Instead of fixating on others, try explaining why you're inserting yourself into someone else's marriage."

Hazel's brow furrowed, a flicker of panic in her eyes, when several newcomers caught her attention.

"Professor Malcolm!" Hazel called out loudly, forcing a smile.

"What a small world! Fancy meeting you here."

Professor Malcolm glanced over, recognized her, and nodded. "Hazel, long time no see."

"You're a professor at Thornmoon Military Academy," Hazel said pointedly, her gaze sweeping over me.

Her voice was just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "Someone here claims to be a graduate from Thornmoon. Do you recognize her?"

Kelsey's friends immediately chimed in, their faces alight with anticipation.

"Right, Patience, you did claim to graduate from there. Since this is your professor, say hello!"

"Go on, don't leave us hanging. Can't keep up the act now, can you?"

"She's clearly bluffing!"

I took a deep breath, stepped forward, and met Professor Malcolm's eyes.

"Professor Malcolm, long time no see."

"Huh, look at that!"

"So she is pretending to be a graduate of Thornmoon! What a shameless liar!"

"How could Professor Malcolm possibly know a nobody like you!"

The room filled with voices of contempt and mockery, washing over me like waves.

But suddenly, all noise ceased as Professor Malcolm raised a hand and gently patted my shoulder.

The entire corner of the restaurant fell so quiet that I could hear everyone's breathing.

"I didn't expect to run into you here, Patience," Professor Malcolm said in a gentle tone, filled with a senior's concern for a junior, "It's been years since we last met. I've been meaning to catch up with you after graduation, but somehow life got in the way."

"Yes, it has been years," I responded, my voice tinged with emotion, "How have you been, Professor?"

"All good, thank you," Professor Malcolm sighed softly, his eyes reflecting a tinge of regret, "I heard about your parents. I'm so sorry for your loss. They were heroes and deserve all our respect."

"Thank you," I murmured, my eyes welling up.

At this moment, the understanding and respect from my former teacher were more comforting than anything else.

The onlookers who had waited for my humiliation now stood stunned.

Their mouths hung open, as if someone had grabbed their throats, leaving them speechless.

Hazel's eyes widened in disbelief.

She took a step forward, her voice trembling, "Professor Malcolm, you—you actually know her?"

"Of course I do. She was my student," Professor Malcolm replied calmly, his pride in his student evident in his voice, "She entered the academy with a perfect score, causing quite a stir back then. Her achievements were outstanding in every aspect, making her one of the most exceptional students I've ever taught."

The faces of those who had awaited the show darkened with embarrassment, wishing they could vanish into the ground.

Everyone knew how difficult it was to achieve a perfect score.

Thornmoon Military Academy was renowned, reputedly harder to get into than the Ivy League. It required not just top academic results but also exceptional physical and psychological endurance.

Hazel's face flushed, alternating between red and pale, as if she'd been slapped repeatedly.

Just moments earlier, she'd sneered at me as a "laughingstock," but now it was clear that the true embarrassment belonged to her.

She stood rooted to the spot, her hands clutching at the hem of her clothes, her ears even turning red, yet she found herself unable to utter a single word.