Semua Bab In My Professor's Arms : Bab 91 - Bab 100

The living room was heavy with silence. It was 8:00 p.m., and the city outside tightened around us, its hum distant, irrelevant.The one thing that mattered was the little man lying on the couch, Liam. His small body was still under a blanket, his chest moving up and down in shallow breaths. My eyes stayed on him, aching heavily, even as every part of me screamed for the son who wasn't there.Ethan.My eldest.Still missing.I haven't even heard from him, or them yet.I was sitting on the floor, back to the cold wall, shirt wet, hair mussed, my heart pounding in fear. Megan was at the window, blonde hair down, eyes red-rimmed from the long hours. Her jacket had been thrown over a chair hours earlier, her perfume now subtle. She had not moved from my side since yesterday, since the first ransom, since Liam was returned."Victor," she whispered, kneeling alongside me. Her own voice was hoarse. "You must try to sleep. If only for an hour."I didn't respond. Couldn't. The fear in my ches

(Emily's POV)The penthouse shone with golden light. Windows from floor to ceiling showed the city skyline in sharp glitter, skyscrapers casting long shadows against glass walls.Classical music drifted softly from a quartet in a corner, overlapping with the muffled pop of champagne bottles opening.Everything had a faint scent of expensive leather and rosewater. I stood at the side of a marble bar, one hand curled about a flute of champagne, the other lightly poised at my hip. My navy dress hugged my body with subdued dignity, the satin cool against my flesh. My hair was loose, a couple of curls indulgently touching the nape of my neck.David's silver pendant lay warmly at my throat, bedded as if it had been staying there all along. I hadn't taken it off since he'd given it to me that night.The guest list had been kept small on purpose. Thirty at most. Dressed nicely, well-positioned, all comfortably seated or standing talking politely to each other. This was no wild political circ

(Victor's POV)Morning Sunlight filtered through the curtains. The living room was quiet, warm, scented with the smell of newly brewed coffee and the lavender laundry soap Emily always used.I stood by the kitchen island, my dark sweater stuck to me, my heavy ceramic mug clutched tightly in my hand, my heart rock-steady but guarded.Her purse leaned against the stair wall, her coat draped over the couch back, traces of home reinstated. My wife was back.Emily sat on the arm of the couch, a leg pulled under her, hands wrapped around her own mug.Her dark hair was loose and falling around her shoulders, her eyes softer than I'd ever seen them, but also shadowed. We hadn't discussed the email. We hadn't touched that landmine yet.But we had talked.Last night, when she arrived, when the children flung themselves into her arms and Liam cried and Ethan lingered just a little too long. I love the new school because I can request for them, and pick them to stay with me overnight when I wish

(Lily's POV)The large hall was filled with the soft hum of voices, the kind that occur when individuals are waiting for something important to begin.Long rows of chairs were placed in line, and the stage loomed at the far end, and it was decorated with flowers and banners that read "Class of 2025." The air had a tangy scent of fresh paint and polish. It was the kind of venue with beginnings and endings, my graduation day today.I sat very quietly at the front, hands clasped in my lap. My heart was racing like a bird trapped inside my chest. I looked at my black robe and cap and was struck by the weight of things.This cap was more than a cloth. It was a reminder of everything that I had worked so desperately for, the long nights at work, the early morning rushes to school, the fears that I had battled and overcome. The school transfer from the former, to this.Families and friends huddled next to me, some snapping photos, others speaking in hushed tones.A gentle hum in the room bui

My fingers hover over the laptop keys, the screen’s glow cutting through the dim light of my apartment. It’s late afternoon, the city buzzing outside, but I’m locked in my own world, restless energy thrumming through me. José’s is at his studio, painting, leaving me alone with my thoughts—and they’re all about Victor. His slicing jaw, his intense eyes, the way his voice could unravel me with one sentence.I shouldn't be doing this, not with José's laughter still echoing from earlier in the day, but the ache in my chest demands to come out. My blog, my secret haven, is where alone I can release it.I lean back against the couch, the leather cool against my bare legs, the oversized sweater slipping down one shoulder. The pulsing cursor, taunting me, and I close my eyes, filling myself up with the fantasy. Victor in a lecture hall, his suit crisp, his eyes boring into me from the other side of the desk. My wrists bound behind me, silk against skin, his face burning on my neck as he exha