A Professor's Vengeance Novels & Stories

On the subject of Isabelle’s slaughtering and the decade I’d spent plotting my revenge. “I am a professor because someone I love valued education. I purchased a university because it was failing and deserved to live. I made an effort to somehow keep one corner of my world clean, though every other part of it was soaked in blood.” I stared into the camera.

There is a dead mouse stuck in the air conditioning unit during summer, filling the classroom with a foul odor. Henry Hudson, my homeroom teacher, instantly blames it on me, saying I don't shower. He mocks me for reeking of pigs and polluting the air in the classroom since Mom and Dad raise pigs for a living. He even insists that Mom and Dad sell our pigs to buy new air conditioners for the classroom. I flush with shame as I repeatedly insist that I shower every single day, but my classmates still mock me and call me "Stinker Tucker". I am forced to transfer to another school after enduring the endless insults and hostile glares from countless people. Years later, I head a major biophar

Luke does not say anything, just nods, eyeing his nephew carefully, letting the silence fizzle for as long as it can. “This feels wrong,” Professor Harlan admits lifelessly when his uncle does not speak. “For so long there’s been so much I’ve wanted to say to you. To unleash it now, with your mother upstairs…” Professor Harlan swallows thickly, narrowing his eyes, keeping himself stoic and strong. He has envisioned his revenge so many times. Now that it is within grasp, reaching for it makes him feel corrupted. Luke holds up his hands. “I wouldn’t want you to hold anything back. Say what’s on your mind.”

what they are talking about isn't some normal capitalist bullshit. My eyes lock onto the document as they sign and toast to whatever selfish and inhumane cause they were all supporting. Anger skitters beneath my skin, my heart pounding in my ears. Dante Romano killed my father and traffics girls. How could I let myself forget? He's the reason I'm here in the first place. I'm here to ruin him. To kill him and to free all those girls. "We'll be leaving now." I flinch at Dante's arm snaking behind my waist. His lips graze my ear as he pulls me along.

It was so intense, like they were telling me something, they held a promise. But promise of what? Destruction. A small voice in the back of my mind hummed. Fresh tears escaped me as I started crying. Vengeance. That's what his looks held. Hunger for revenge. I gulped as the severity of the situation dawned on me. The man seemed insane and I had to stay away from him. Or else he might destroy me. And this time, I will be shattered completely.

Cause days before he was chuckling as he was writing something, so happily that it made me so curious that I could die I knew it was probably the professor as usual, but I still wanted to convince my heart that it wasn’t, but when I glanced through those pages, something made my heart bleed, and I couldn’t breathe That day I hated him more, and wanted to just end this Jealousy they say does people dirty, but maybe I had gone too far, cause his eyes when he cried was enough to make me wish the ground could just swallow me whole, and I had carried that weight on my chest until I returned back, only to see him I watched him pack his bag. Watched the way his hands shook. Watched the way his voic

He didn’t glance at Jax. He looked only at me. And that look cracked something deep in my chest. “You came alone.” Not a question. A statement soaked in betrayal. “I,” My throat seized. “Marcus said if I didn’t,” “You didn’t trust me to handle it.” His voice dropped, colder now. “You walked into a trap instead of waiting five fucking minutes.” Jax shoved Marcus harder into the carpet. “Back off, Professor. She’s scared shitless. You think she wanted this?”

He would tell her I was a problem that couldn't be bought. I went inside and found Vane sitting on the bed, looking at the crepes like they were poison. "He wasn't nice, was he?" Vane asked quietly. "No, Vane. He wasn't," I said, sitting down next to him. I was shaking, the adrenaline finally leaving my system and leaving a cold, jagged exhaustion in its place. "I miss the professor," Vane whispered. "He was scary, but he never looked at me like I was a chore. Dominic looked at me like I was a piece of luggage he had to carry."

Then the server came to take our order. Professor Reed barely looked at the menu before ordering the roasted squash tart, black pepper pasta, lemon-butter trout, and blood orange panna cotta. My fingers stopped against my water glass. I had mentioned all of those. Two months ago, when my thesis had nearly driven me insane, I sent my anonymous boyfriend a screenshot of this faculty club’s seasonal menu. If I survive this thesis, I’m coming here for the trout and that blood orange dessert. He replied almost immediately. Noted. When we meet, I’ll take you there.

Every time that thesis was returned, it was covered in red marks—scars of my seemingly endless failure. It didn't feel like a mere revision anymore; it felt like an interminable torture. I wasn't wrong to dub him the 'cruel professor.' I felt as though he held a personal grudge against me, constantly looking for any flaw to hinder my graduation. Sure enough, today was no different. I glanced at Mr. Jefri, who merely flipped through the pages without actually reading them. My face darkened with resentment. Internally, I cursed, "This man is unbelievable! He doesn't even respect my hard work."