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009: The Interrogation

Author: Monday Luisa
last update publish date: 2025-11-29 17:47:37

~Elena’s POV~

Security escorts Mateo through the Gothic Quarter campus at 2 AM like he’s a criminal.

I watch from the parking lot shadows as they disappear into the administration building.

He didn’t look back, he told me to go home before they loaded him into their vehicle. Like I’m capable of going anywhere while they’re interrogating him.

My phone buzzes.

It’s Sofia. ‘Where the fuck are you? Your location shows campus. Get your ass home NOW!!’

I ignore it, wait another ten minutes. Then I
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  • The Professor’s Canvas    Chapter 45: Manipulation

    The video continues. It shows my father explaining that Marina is dangerous, that having a defense plan isn’t the same as plotting murder.“Isabella edited it,” I breathe. “She cut out the context.”“She manipulated the footage to make it look like premeditated murder when it was actually your father preparing your mother for possible self-defense.” Ana puts her phone away. “I have the full video. The metadata proving when it was recorded and when it was edited. Everything we need to prove Isabella fabricated evidence.”“So my mother is safe.”“If we release this before the wedding, yes. Isabella’s leverage disappears.”I look at Patricia. “Then why haven’t you released it already?”“Because we need Mateo’s cooperation. And he won’t break the engagement unless he knows you’re here. Unless he knows you still want him.” Patricia meets my eyes. “He thinks you moved on, that you chose MIT over him. He’s going through with the wedding because he believes there’s nothing left to fight for.”

  • The Professor’s Canvas    Chapter 44: Discovery

    Richard’s apartment is nice. Modern and impersonal.We barely make it through the door before he’s kissing me. It’s fine. Technically competent. Completely empty.I kiss him back anyway. Try to lose myself in someone who isn’t Mateo.His hands are under my shirt when my phone rings.I ignore it.It rings again. And again.“You should get that,” Richard says.I check the screen. Patricia.“I need to take this.” I step into his hallway. “What?”“Elena. Where are you?”“Boston. Why?”“You need to see this. I’m sending a link.”My phone buzzes. Article link from The Guardian.Headline: *SANDOVAL HEIR’S SECRET: FIANCÉE UNAWARE OF COERCED ENGAGEMENT*I scan the article. Someone leaked everything. The medical incompetence angle, Isabella’s threats, the coerced contracts, everything.“Who gave them this?” I ask.“I don’t know, but it was published twenty minutes ago and it’s everywhere. Twitter. Reddit. Every major news outlet is picking it up.”“What does this mean for Mateo?”“It means the

  • The Professor’s Canvas    Chapter 43: Boston

    I destroyed my MIT lab on day three.Not intentionally. I’m running a quantum resonance test, miscalculate the electromagnetic interference, and the entire array overloads. Sparks. Smoke. Alarms screaming.My advisor, Dr. Chen, finds me in the wreckage. “Miss Vega. My office. Now.”I follow her through the physics building, still smelling like burnt circuits.She closes her office door. “You’ve been here two weeks. In that time, you’ve produced brilliant preliminary work and nearly burned down a fifty-million-dollar lab. What’s going on?”“Personal issues. They won’t interfere again…”“They’re interfering now.” She sits. “I recruited you because your research is exceptional. But I need your head in the game. Whatever is happening in your personal life, fix it or compartmentalize it. You have one week to prove you can handle this program.”One week. Mateo’s wedding is in four days.“I understand.”Back at the apartment Sofia found us, small, expensive, walking distance from campus—I tr

  • The Professor’s Canvas    042: The Flight

    I’m at gate B17 when I see his face on the departure lounge television.Mateo. In a suit I’ve never seen. Standing beside a woman who’s all polish and poise and everything I’m not.The chyron reads: *SANDOVAL HEIR ANNOUNCES ENGAGEMENT TO TELECOMMUNICATIONS HEIRESS*Sofia grabs my arm. “Don’t look. It’s probably old news—”“Three days ago.” The timestamp on the screen. Three days after he left the hospital. Four days after he held me in his bed and promised we’d figure this out together.The reporter’s voice carries across the gate area: “In a surprise announcement, Mateo Sandoval, newly appointed CEO of Sandoval Holdings, has confirmed his engagement to Victoria Ruiz, daughter of telecommunications magnate—”I turn away. Can’t watch.“Boarding for flight BA213 to Boston Logan will begin in ten minutes.”My phone buzzes. Text from my mother: *Did you see the news? Good. Now you can move on properly.*Another buzz. Carmen: *I’m sorry. Isabella works fast.*I silence my phone. Board the

  • The Professor’s Canvas    41:

    I open my laptop. Pull up the MIT acceptance form. Cursor hovering over submit.Sofia appears with food. “Eat first. Then decide.”“I’ve already decided.”“Then eat to celebrate. Or eat to grieve. But eat.”I eat mechanically while Sofia packs my books. My research. My life into boxes.At 11:30 PM, I hit submit on the MIT form.Confirmation email arrives instantly. *Welcome to MIT. We look forward to your arrival Monday, January 6th.*Three weeks. I have three weeks to pack up four years in Barcelona. Say goodbye to everything.“Done?” Sofia asks.“Done.”“Good. Now you can actually rest.”But I can’t rest. Can’t sleep. I lie awake thinking about Mateo in his hospital bed. About my father in his grave. About the person I was four months ago who thought she had everything figured out.At 2 AM, my phone buzzes.Text from Mateo: *I lied.*I stare at the screen.Another text: *I don’t want this to be over.*My heart pounds.Another: *I know you accepted MIT. Isabella told me. And I know y

  • The Professor’s Canvas    40: The Truth

    I spend seventy-two hours at Mateo’s bedside while he stays comatose.Sofia brings me changes of clothes. My mother calls twice, says nothing useful both times. Isabella sends flowers with a card: *Fighting for him in every way I can.*The MIT offer ticks down. Forty-eight hours becomes twenty-four. Becomes twelve.“You need to decide,” Sofia says on the third morning. “The deadline is tonight.”“I can’t decide until he wakes up.”“What if he doesn’t wake up before midnight?”“Then I decide without him.”“And if he wakes up but doesn’t remember you?”I don’t answer because I don’t know.The doctor reduces his sedation at noon. Says he should wake within hours if he’s going to wake at all.I hold his hand and wait.At 3 PM, his fingers twitch.At 4 PM, his eyes flutter.At 4:37 PM, they open.“Mateo.” I’m leaning over him instantly. “Can you hear me?”His eyes track to my face. Confused. Searching.“Do you know who I am?” The question costs me everything.He blinks slowly. His mouth mo

  • The Professor’s Canvas    019: Now or Never

    ~Elena’s POV~Subject: Hearing Addendum*Miss Vega and Professor Sandoval - Be advised that the hearing tomorrow will be open to media attendance per university policy on public interest matters. Prepared statements should be kept to 10 minutes each. The committee will then question you separately.

  • The Professor’s Canvas    018: The Big Question

    We use a hospital conference room and spend five hours building our case piece by piece.At 2 AM, Marina leans back in her chair. “This is good. Really good. We can demonstrate David’s pattern of harassment, Rebecca’s conspiracy and the Sandoval family’s interference. We can show the relationship,

  • The Professor’s Canvas    017: The Twist

    ~Elena’s POV~Sofia hits the hospital lobby at a dead run, laptop bag bouncing against her hip.“We have six hours.” She doesn’t even say hello. “Six hours to build a case strong enough to survive what is coming tomorrow.”“The press conference is at eight…”“Fuck the press conference. Morrison mov

  • The Professor’s Canvas    016: Protecting Family

    ~Elena’s POV~My father looks smaller than I have ever seen him. Intubated, bandaged, machines breathing for him. The steady beep of monitors is the only sign he is alive.I sink into the chair beside his bed, take his hand.Mateo stands behind me, one hand on my shoulder.“I’m sorry, Papa,” I whis

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