THE PROFESSOR'S SECRET GIRL
***
Elsewhere, Renata stood before a massive wooden desk buried under piles of documents, while Professor Alex Harrington sat behind it, his fingers interlaced with an ease that felt far too casual for someone about to decide a student’s future.
“So,” he finally spoke, his voice low and steady. “Do you want to explain why I saw you leaving Dominic Sinclair’s office looking… like that?”
Renata swallowed hard. Her throat felt dry, as if the air itself refused to enter her lungs. “It was just academic matters, sir.”
Her voice trembled. She tried to keep it steady, but the sharpness in his eyes made every word sound weak before it even left her mouth.
“Academic matters?” Alex let out a soft chuc