All Chapters of On My Professor's Desk: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The ambulance doors slammed shut with a metallic finality that echoed in Vanessa’s ears long after the vehicle had sped away.Red and blue lights still flickered outside the house, casting distorted shadows across the walls. The police moved in and out, their voices low, controlled, methodical.But none of it felt real.Vanessa stood in the middle of it all, wrapped in a blanket someone had draped over her shoulders, her hands trembling just enough to sell the shock.Inside, however—Her mind was racing.Too fast.Too sharp.Too aware.It had worked.So far… it had worked.Louis had been taken.Handcuffed.Dragged out of the house while protesting his innocence.She could still hear his voice—“I didn’t do this!”But it hadn’t mattered.Because she had spoken first.And in situations like this—The first story often became the truth.Vanessa swallowed slowly, her throat dry.An officer approached her again.“Ma’am, we’re going to need you to come down to the station later for a formal

The police station felt colder than Vanessa expected.Not physically.But emotionally.Every wall, every desk, every uniform carried a quiet kind of authority that pressed down on her the moment she stepped inside. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t aggressive.It was just… present.Watching.Waiting.Judging.Vanessa adjusted her grip on her bag as she approached the front desk, her expression carefully arranged into something fragile but composed—grief wrapped in control.“I’m here to give my statement,” she said softly.The officer behind the desk glanced up, recognition flickering immediately.“Mrs. Reid?”She nodded.His expression softened slightly.“Of course. Please, have a seat. Someone will be with you shortly.”Vanessa offered a faint, polite smile and moved toward the waiting area.Each step felt deliberate.Measured.Controlled.Inside, however—Everything was chaos.Her thoughts refused to settle.They clashed.Overlapped.Spun endlessly.William is alive.That single truth had l

The moment the door opened...Everything happened too fast.Two men.Large.Solid.Dangerous.They didn’t speak.They didn’t hesitate.They moved.Ava barely had time to register their presence before one of them grabbed her wrist, yanking her forward with brutal force. Her back hit the doorframe as she stumbled, a gasp tearing from her throat.“Wait—what are you—”The second man was already there.A white cloth pressed hard against her nose and mouth.Sharp.Chemical.Overpowering.Ava’s eyes widened instantly.She tried to pull away.Tried to scream.But the sound never came out.Her hands pushed weakly against the man’s chest, her nails scraping uselessly against fabric as panic surged through her body.The smell filled her lungs.Burning.Suffocating.“No—” she tried again, but it came out muffled, broken.Her vision blurred.The edges of the world darkening too quickly.Her limbs grew heavy.Unresponsive.The fight drained out of her faster than she could understand.Her knees bu

The hospital corridor buzzed with quiet urgency.Muted footsteps.Low conversations.The distant beeping of machines that measured life in fragile, steady rhythms.Vanessa moved through it all with purpose.Fast—but not rushed.Focused—but not frantic.On the outside, she looked exactly like what she needed to be:A worried wife.A woman desperate to see her husband after a near-fatal attack.But beneath that carefully constructed exterior—Her mind was racing.Because everything had changed.William was awake.Alive.Conscious.And that meant one thing.He could talk.He could remember.He could destroy everything.Vanessa’s fingers tightened slightly around her handbag as she approached the nurse’s station.“My husband—William Reid,” she said, keeping her voice soft, controlled. “I was told he regained consciousness.”The nurse nodded after checking her screen.“Yes, he’s awake. He’s still weak, but you can see him briefly.”Relief flickered across Vanessa’s face.Convincing.Practi

The police station felt colder than usual.Not in temperature—But in atmosphere.Heavy.Unforgiving.Like every wall had absorbed too many confessions, too many lies, too many broken lives to ever feel neutral again.Camille sat stiffly in the visitor’s area, her fingers laced tightly together in her lap. Across from her, the lawyer she had managed to secure on such short notice flipped through a thin folder, his expression serious, focused, but not yet defeated.They were waiting.For Louis.Camille hadn’t expected it to feel like this.Seeing him here.Behind glass.Reduced to a suspect.It didn’t sit right.None of it did.A door buzzed somewhere in the distance.Metal clanged.Footsteps echoed.And then—Louis was led in.Camille’s breath caught slightly.He looked… different.Not broken.Not completely.But worn.His usually composed posture slightly slouched, his movements slower, heavier. There was a bruise still faintly visible along his jaw from the attack, and his eyes—The