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DESPERATION SETS IN

Penulis: Ronnie Scott
last update Tanggal publikasi: 2026-08-14 05:34:48

CLAIRE ANDERSON

The hospital room smells like antiseptic and fear, a combination that's become nauseatingly familiar over the past four days. I sit beside my grandmother's bed, watching her chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, and I feel like I'm drowning in slow motion. The machines beep and hum around us, their rhythmic sounds the only thing that reminds me she's still alive, still fighting, still here. Emily's face is pale against the white pillow, her grey hair loose and wild, her
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  • The Professor's Bargain    THE DAUGHTER WHO WATCHES

    CLAIRE ANDERSON I'm halfway across the lawn, my steps carrying me toward Xavier's rigid silhouette, when I feel it. A gaze, sharp and focused, pressing against my skin like a physical weight. I pause, my hand still raised to catch Xavier's attention, and I turn slowly, scanning the clusters of guests scattered across the manicured grass.She's standing near the edge of the terrace, a glass of champagne balanced between her fingers, her posture impeccable. Her platinum hair is swept back from her face in a sleek, elegant twist, and her pale blue dress drapes across her frame like it was made for her. Her eyes meet mine, cool and assessing, and for a moment, neither of us moves. I don't know who she is, but I know she's someone important—someone who belongs here in a way I never will. The way she holds herself, the way the other guests seem to drift around her like she's the center of their orbit, tells me she's been a fixture in this world for a long time. She's not just a guest. She'

  • The Professor's Bargain    THE MAN WITH THE WARM HANDSHAKE

    CLAIRE ANDERSON The afternoon sun filters through the tall windows of the sitting room, casting long, golden rectangles across the polished floor. I'm still standing by the portrait of young Xavier, my fingers resting against the cool wall, trying to reconcile the boy in the painting with the guarded man I married. Rosie's voice pulls me back to the present, warm and slightly apologetic."Claire, dear, I'm so sorry to interrupt. Some of our guests are arriving early, and I'm afraid I need to greet them." She smooths her dress, a nervous habit I've noticed she has. "Would you mind joining me? I'd love for you to meet everyone, and I think it might be easier to do it all at once."I hesitate, the memory of Vivian's sharp words still fresh in my mind. But Rosie's hand finds mine, gentle and reassuring. "They're all harmless, mostly," she says, her eyes twinkling. "And I'll be right beside you."I follow her out onto the terrace, where the afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the manic

  • The Professor's Bargain    VIVIAN

    CLAIRE ANDERSON The warmth Rosie has wrapped around me like a blanket begins to fray the moment I hear the front door open. There's a shift in the air, a sudden sharpness that cuts through the soft golden light of the sitting room, and I watch Rosie's expression flicker—a brief tightening around her eyes before she smooths it away. The easy, comfortable atmosphere that Rosie cultivated over tea evaporates in an instant, replaced by something taut and watchful."Vivian's here," Rosie says, and her voice is careful in a way it wasn't a moment ago. "She was supposed to arrive later. I suppose she wanted to surprise us."I set my teacup down, my stomach tightening. I've heard enough about Vivian to know this isn't going to be easy. Edgar's warning echoes in my mind: She may not warm to you immediately. She tends to test people first. The way he said it, with that careful, measured tone, suggested that Vivian's tests could be sharp enough to draw blood.The footsteps approach, sharp and d

  • The Professor's Bargain    ROSIE

    CLAIRE ANDERSON The front door swings open before I can raise my hand to knock, and I find myself enveloped in a cloud of soft perfume and warmth before I've even registered what's happening. Rosie Carrington pulls me into a hug so immediate, so unguarded, that I forget to breathe for a moment. Her arms are slender but strong, and she holds me like I'm someone she's been waiting to meet for a long time."Claire," she says, pulling back to look at me, her eyes bright with genuine warmth. "Finally. I've been so eager to meet you." Her smile is wide and uncomplicated, crinkling the corners of her soft brown eyes. "Xavier has told me so little about you—which, knowing him, means he's told me nothing at all. So you'll have to forgive me if I'm a bit forward. I've been waiting years for him to bring someone home."I glance over my shoulder at Xavier, who's standing just behind me, his expression carefully neutral. He looks like he's already retreated into himself, the mask firmly in place.

  • The Professor's Bargain    THE ROAD TO CARRINGTON ESTATE

    CLAIRE ANDERSON The city falls away behind us like a curtain closing on a stage. One moment, we're surrounded by the familiar chaos of Manhattan—the blare of horns, the crush of pedestrians, the restless energy that never quite sleeps. The next, the buildings thin out, replaced by stretches of highway that cut through grey, indifferent countryside. The sky is pale and overcast, a perfect mirror for the silence that's settled between Xavier and me like a third passenger in the back seat.He's been quiet since we left the penthouse. Not his usual cold silence—this is something heavier, more deliberate. His jaw is set, his grey eyes fixed on the road ahead, and I watch his hands flex against his knees in a rhythm that feels almost unconscious. He's not relaxed. He's bracing himself, like a soldier preparing for battle he knows he can't win.I want to ask if he's alright, but the words feel inadequate, too small for the weight of whatever he's carrying. Instead, I just sit beside him, wa

  • The Professor's Bargain    THE SUMMONS

    CLAIRE ANDERSON The morning light is pale and grey, filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows like diluted honey, and I'm still carrying the warmth of last night's bread in my chest. I slept better than I have in weeks, my dreams filled with flour-dusted hands and the quiet possibility of something more. But when I walk into the dining room, the fragile hope I've been nurturing shatters against the cold formality of Xavier's posture. He's already seated at the table, his grey eyes fixed on his phone, his coffee untouched, and the space between us has somehow grown wider overnight."Good morning," I say, settling into my chair across from him. The distance feels like a canyon, and I can't help but wonder if last night even happened at all.He looks up, and for a brief moment, I search his face for any trace of the man from the kitchen—the vulnerability, the softness, the way he offered me bread like it was a piece of himself. It's gone. The mask is back, smooth and impenetrable,

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