Romans & histoires Academy Undercover Professor Novel Indo

“You're still my professor, Zade, and I'm still your student. If this photograph gets out, the university could investigate us, and I don't know what they would decide.” She was right, and I hated that she was right. “I know,” I admitted as I looked at the photograph again, my expression becoming more serious. “The university could investigate, and I won't pretend there wouldn't be consequences if this became public.” Charlotte looked surprised by my answer. “Then why are you so calm?” she asked as she folded her arms, frustration replacing some of the fear in her voice. “Your career could be affected, and you're standing here like Lucas just sent you an annoying email.”

What’s the point? Before I can spiral further, the door swings open and the room falls silent. Dean Whitmore strides in, her heels clicking against the concrete floor. Beside her stands a man I’ve never seen before. "Everyone, listen up," the dean says, her voice sharp. "Professor Langley was in a car accident last night. He’s stable, but he’ll need time to recover." A murmur ripples through the class. Jessica gasps, clutching her chest like this is a tragedy meant just for her. Jack pats her shoulder, his face twisted in fake concern.

A really bad dream. How do they expect me to teach and protect a man whom I've fucked? Of course they don't know we've had a thing six months ago. " Yes, that boy in that photo is Chase Newton. Your next big case. And you're going undercover as his physics professor. Why are you surprised? Are you okay?" Regina smirks as she scoffs. I turn to glare at her. I don't mind beating the shit out of her right in Bradford's office.

I grab the remote, flip to Channel 3. My face fills the screen, a photo from the university website. Then Mateo’s. Then the headline: PROFESSOR’S SECRET STUDIO: STUDENT CLAIMS COERCION IN NUDE MODELING SCANDAL I feel the room spinning. “That’s not…I never claimed…” “Keep watching,” Sofia says. The anchor continues: “In an exclusive interview, an anonymous student alleges Professor Mateo Sandoval of the University of Barcelona created a pattern of inappropriate relationships, using his position to pressure female students into modeling nude for private art projects.”

His stare was piercingly directed at Clayton. “Tell me about The Sacred Land, Clay…if you expect that we can provide you some funds in doing your research…for your doctorate!” The professor changed his position, leaning his back on the chair and resting his chin with his fingers. “What do you mean, Professor?” Clayton stared at him. “You get what I mean Clay…” “What do you want to know about The Sacred Land?” Clayton inhaled. “Anything…I should know about it and The Council should…” The professor took a deep inhale.

Frantically, I matched my steps towards her, questioning again thought she hadn’t responded to my previous words. "Listen Flora, I don't care who that man who claims to be a professor is, and I don't care what grounds he holds in this school,but one thing is certain which is the school will always pick the right side which is mine, that man tried to touch me inappropriately and he did it again." The words of mine seemed to have her rolling her eyes. "His father owns this university Julianna Incase you haven't gotten the memo." My eyes recollected in shock at her words of nonchalance.

"Yes, sir. When I mentioned I was researching Academy security incidents, he said his combat strategy expertise might be relevant." It was close enough to the truth to sound believable. "Very well. I'll escort you to his office." "Thank you, sir." As we walked toward the academic wing, my heart hammered against my ribs. This was it. I was about to walk back into the predator's den and pretend to be his willing accomplice. All while knowing he was fully aware of who I really was. Professor Aldrin's office door was open when we arrived. He looked up from his desk, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Their histology professors would later explain the slides once after the other on a huge board while they all sat on chairs and noted down everything. Last week they were introduced to two professors. One was Doctor Sindura, who wore very simple Salwar Kameez but she had a bob cut. The other was Doctor Manoj, who was so tall that all had to crane their necks while he taught. Not only he was towering, but he also had a moustache which annoyed Ria. It wasn't a small moustache but the one which was similar to a famous Indian Bandit named Veerappan. Doctor Aman Khanna who was famously given the name Smokey by some notorious students was very old but joyful compared to the other histology profess

Martial cultivator affairs were not easily explained to academics. "Ah, it must be related to the earthquake earlier," the professor deduced, recalling the tremors that nearly trapped them in the tunnel. While they conversed, Adrian hurried over eagerly. "Professor, if this is a palace, think of the treasures!" "Adrian, we're not treasure hunters nor grave robbers," the professor chided firmly, his tone stern. "I apologize, Professor," Adrian muttered, chastened. Seizing the moment, the professor launched into a lecture about professional ethics and the sanctity of archaeological work, reminiscing about his youth.

Maybe she’ll be another girl stolen and sold. I face forward again, my throat tight. The forest road bumps beneath us. The path is uneven, littered with small puddles and loose sand. The trees crowd around us like sentinels, dark and endless. No one knows where this university is. Not really. Everyone knows of it. Few know the exact location. It’s always been secret. Always protected. Now I’m leaving it—kidnapped into another secret. I glance at Tom again. He still doesn’t look at me. Not even a glance. His profile is carved in stone—rigid, unreadable.