Todos os capítulos de My professor, my stalker: Capítulo 141 - Capítulo 150

“Tristan,” my father growls. “Now.”His voice barely registers. My attention is still locked on the man standing across from me like a wall I should have already broken through. My finger rests on the trigger with unnerving calm, steady as breath. I know what I should do. If he stands between Raven and me, then he is nothing more than an obstacle, and obstacles have always been simple in theory. You remove them. Cleanly. Permanently.I keep my gun aimed in between his eyes.He watches me carefully, and I can tell he understands exactly what is going through my mind. There is no hesitation in me, no moral debate worth having—only the cold clarity of a decision already made.He keeps his gun aimed in between my eyes. “She will never forgive you for this,” he says quietly.The words settle somewhere deep. Fuck. He's probably right. Slowly, I lower my gun. He does the same, the tension between us shifting but not disappearing, as though the air itself refuses to relax.“What the fuck is

“This is safer,” Tristan answers. “Closer, as well.”“Can’t we go to your house instead?” I ask.“I wish we could,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “My father wants you at the family house... after everything.”I don’t care what Charles wants.I want my own bed. I want to lock my bedroom door, crawl beneath my blankets, and pretend tonight never happened.Instead, I let out a quiet sigh and sink deeper into the passenger seat.Fine. Whatever. I’ll leave tomorrow. I’m too exhausted to argue.The drive passes in near silence, the hum of the engine filling the empty space between us. Streetlights blur against the windows as the city slowly gives way to the familiar estate. Thirty minutes later, the wrought-iron gates swing open, revealing the manor bathed in warm golden light that somehow still feels cold.James is waiting at the bottom of the front steps. The moment I see him, I look away. He knew we weren’t going to Frost. I don't want to rat him out. I like him.“Sir,” Ja

I spin around and grab the first piece of clothing I can find. Grey sweatpants. Perfect.My head pounds as I shove my legs into them, barely managing to pull them over my hips while stumbling toward the bedroom door.Tristan reaches for my wrist. “Wait—”“Don't fucking touch me!” The words rip from my throat before he can even graze my skin. I wrench my arm away and recoil from him as though his touch burns. He reaches again, but I slip out of his grasp, yanking the bedroom door open with his sweatpants barely hanging onto my hips.“I’m not cheating on you!” he shouts after me, desperation cracking through his voice.I whirl around so fast my vision swims. My wet hair slaps against my neck. “What about the pictures, Tristan?”He blinks. “What?”“The pictures,” I bite out. “The pictures of your potential wives. Do you still have them?”His jaw immediately clenches. That has my fury rising even further. I am murderous. Every horrible possibility Liam planted in my head suddenly feels r

When I wake on Monday morning, something feels off. My eyes crack open reluctantly, heavy with sleep, and I blink against the fog clouding my mind. An irritating sound cuts through the silence of my room, persistent enough to drag me fully awake. Frowning, I turn towards my bedside table.My phone lies there, vibrating wildly against the wood as an alarm blares through the speaker. I snatch it up and silence it, my brows knitting together as I stare at the screen.Wait. Did I set an alarm?The thought barely has time to settle before another crashes into it.My phone. I left my phone in one of the Madden cars.Wait. I'm not in Zara's bed. I'm in my own bed. My dark green sheets surround me. My own familiar room looks back at me. What. The. Fuck. My gaze instinctively lifts to the corner of the room, where the tiny red light of the camera blinks steadily back at me. Anger burns through my chest as I realise I'm lying beneath my blanket wearing nothing but a pair of panties and a

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replies, voice smooth with that infuriating ease. “I’m just warning you. I’m here to keep an eye on you—make sure you get home safe in case Tristan gets too drunk.” His gaze flicks over me, sharp and amused, before he leans back just enough. “I am not, however,” he lowers his voice, a mischievous glint catching in his eyes, “allowed to touch you. Apparently, you’re Tristan’s little thing now. Tristan’s responsibility.”“Tristan’s little thing?” I repeat slowly, disbelief curdling into something sharper. “I am not property.”“Ah,” he sings softly, almost delighted by my reaction. “We’ll see about that. My family thinks you are. Your father, however…” He clicks his tongue as if savoring the memory. “Well. He’s an absolute ray of sunshine to be around. Demanded either your freedom or marriage to Tristan. Tricky choice, aye?”“Raven!”I instantly turn without commenting on him. I grind my teeth together and slap Tom's order on the bar. I grab the next tray, forci