TWISTED ECSTASY のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 27

I freeze on top of Lucien. His cock is still buried inside me. The footsteps downstairs grow louder. Keys hit the table. A familiar voice curses under his breath.Mark.He's home. After weeks of nothing, he chooses today of all days.Lucien’s eyes meet mine. He looks more amused than scared. I clamp a hand over his mouth and slide off him slowly, my body screaming in protest. I grab my robe from the floor and tie it quickly. My legs feel shaky.“Stay here,” I whisper. “Do not make a sound.”He nods, but his hand brushes my thigh as I move toward the door. A silent promise that this is not over.I slip out of the bedroom and head downstairs. Mark stands in the entryway, his suit jacket slung over one shoulder, his eyes glassy from whatever he drank. He looks at me with a smirk.“Well, well. Look who it is,” he says, his voice thick. “Miss me?”I keep my distance. “Where the hell have you been?” I ask. “You disappear for weeks, and all of a sudden you show up out of nowhere? What do you

Standing at the front of the lecture hall, I move through the material with the steady assurance years of teaching have carved into muscle memory. The notes on the projector advance behind me in sequence, though I barely rely on them. My voice carries cleanly across the room as I connect theory to lived decisions, the kind of choices people make when no one is watching, when ethics are tested in ordinary places.The students respond in uneven patterns. Some lean forward, pens moving across notebooks, capturing every structured idea. Others recline, eyes lowered to phones they try to disguise under the desk, still listening in fragments. A few nod at precise moments, as though something internal has aligned with what I am saying. The rhythm of teaching steadies something in me that has been unsettled. In this space, there is only structure, language, and the expectation of clarity. Everything else is temporarily muted.Halfway through the session, I scan the back rows and pause.Lucien

I walk into Chancellor Whitlock’s office without an appointment. Amy tries to stop me, her voice rising as she calls my name from the reception area, but I brush past her with a curt, “It’s urgent.”The interruption earns me a startled look from Whitlock, who glances up from a stack of documents spread across his desk.He is holding a fountain pen in one hand, reading glasses perched low on his nose.“Professor Hale,” he says, setting down the pen. “Is everything alright?”The concern in his voice almost makes me reconsider.Almost.It is not that he sounds insincere. It is worse than that. It is genuine concern wrapped in institutional control, the kind that comes with knowing every decision here carries consequences beyond the person standing in front of him.If I wait any longer, I might lose my nerve.I remain standing. Sitting would soften this into a discussion instead of what it needs to be.“I am ending the special support arrangement with Lucien Grayson. Effective immediately

Walking into the dim master bedroom of the old mansion, my heels click across the polished hardwood. The smell of stale air and medicine hits me like a freight train. The family warned me that Knox is stubborn, cruel even in his decline, and that he hasn't touched solid food in nearly three weeks. They're paying me triple my usual rate to keep him alive until they can sort out the inheritance mess.I don't ask questions.At thirty-eight, with breasts that haven't stopped leaking since I underwent an experimental hormone treatment, I need the money far more than I need morals.Knox lies propped amid a mountain of pillows in the massive four-poster bed, his once-powerful frame reduced to sharp bones wrapped in thin, papery skin. Seventy-five years old, with silver hair plastered to his scalp, he fixes those pale eyes on me the second I enter.“Another caregiver?” Knox rasps, voice dry as dust. “Here to torture an old bastard before he finally checks out?”“I’m Mia, and I’m here to make