All Chapters of My Professor is A Mafia : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The next morning, I walked onto campus with a renewed sense of purpose mixed with lingering disgust from yesterday’s scene with Sophia and Professor Harlan. I couldn’t stay silent anymore. The bullying, the harassment, the blatant abuse of power someone had to listen. I headed straight for the administration building instead of going to my first class. The main office was quiet. I asked the receptionist for the Dean of Student Affairs, but she directed me to Associate Dean Richard Langford, saying he handled disciplinary matters personally. I took a deep breath and knocked on his door. “Come in,” a smooth, authoritative voice called. I stepped inside. The office was large and luxurious for a university administrator dark wood panels, expensive leather chairs, and framed photos on the wall showing him shaking hands with donors. The man behind the desk looked to be in his late forties, well-dressed in a tailored suit, with salt-and-pepper hair and sharp features. “Miss Blake, is it

I waited until the end of the day, heart pounding with nervous energy, before heading to his office. The hallway was quiet, most students already gone. My short skirt from earlier still clung to my thighs, and the plunging top left little to the imagination. I told myself I was just going to thank him for defending me earlier. Nothing more. But that was a lie. I knocked softly on his door. “Come in.” His voice was deep and controlled, as always. I stepped inside, closing the door behind me with a quiet click. Professor Damien Vale sat behind his desk, reviewing papers under the warm glow of his lamp. He looked up, dark eyes meeting mine with that familiar professional mask. The was no warmth and no acknowledgment of the tension that had been building between us. “Miss Blake,” he said evenly. “What can I do for you?” I approached his desk slowly, my pulse racing. “I just wanted to thank you. For today. In the meeting. You didn’t have to stand up for me, but you did. It meant a

I stood in front of my mirror that morning, heart racing as I smoothed down the short, tight-fitting black gown I’d bought on impulse the night before. It clung to every curve like a second skin hugging my waist, lifting my breasts, and ending high on my thighs, barely covering the swell of my ass. One wrong move and it would ride up dangerously. I turned slightly, admiring how it snatched my figure, making my hips and ass look fuller, more tempting. This was no longer subtle pushing. This was a declaration. Campus felt electric as I walked toward class. Heads turned. Whispers followed. The gown swayed with each step, the fabric stretching tight over my ass and thighs. I felt powerful and exposed. Addicted to the thrill. When I entered Professor Damien Vale’s lecture hall, the room went quieter than usual. Sophia and Lila stared with open hatred. Julian’s eyes darkened with possessive rage from the back row. But I only cared about one reaction. Damien stood at the front, mid-sentenc

The weekend passed in a blur of self-imposed isolation. I stayed locked in my tiny apartment, phone on silent, ignoring calls and messages from Mia and Zara. After Professor Damien Vale had thrown me out of his office so coldly, something inside me had shattered. The humiliation burned deeper than any of Sophia’s pranks or Julian’s threats. I had pushed too far, and he had reminded me exactly where I stood nowhere. By Sunday night, I had convinced myself I was over him, done and finished. A stupid, childish crush on an unattainable man who clearly wanted nothing to do with me. I repeated it like a mantra while staring at the ceiling. He’s just a professor, nothing special. Move on, Ava. Monday morning, I dressed conservatively jeans and a simple sweater determined to prove it to myself. No more short skirts and no more plunging tops. No more fantasies. I was going to sit in the back of his class like a normal student and focus on graduating. The resolution lasted exactly seven minut

The first official team meeting for the consulting project was supposed to be productive. Instead, it felt like a slow-motion disaster. We had managed to recruit two more students at the last minute, quiet, unenthusiastic guys who clearly only joined because they couldn’t find better options. The five of us sat around a table in the library study room. I had prepared an outline, research questions, and a timeline, hoping to show leadership. But from the first minute, it was clear no one took me seriously. One of the new guys, Kevin, barely looked up from his phone. “This is a lot of work for forty percent. Can’t we just split it and meet again closer to the deadline?” The other one, Tyler, shrugged. “Yeah, and who’s actually going to present? I’m not great at public speaking.” Mia tried to stay positive. “Ava has a solid plan. We can divide the research evenly.” Zara crossed her arms. “Or we can actually try to win instead of half-assing it.” Kevin glanced at me, then at my