Chapter 2

In this warped romance, I served as nothing more than an instrument for his vendetta against my father.

The absurd part? I foolishly believed that my boundless affection could thaw his frozen heart.

Beyond the pane behind me, the downpour intensified relentlessly.

Yet my soul, akin to the tempest outside, grew more frigid with each passing second.

My cell phone suddenly buzzed—a note from my closest confidante.

[Word is that the firstborn of the Myers clan has his sights set on you. Your father is entertaining this prospect.]

I gazed at the message, and for the first time, a novel idea crossed my mind.

The rain persisted, its delicate strands tapping the window, echoing the faint, piercing ache within me.

I lingered by the rear entrance of the lecture hall, my gaze fixed on Flynn at the lectern.

He was addressing final-year students, dressed in a pristine white button-up that accentuated his already detached demeanor.

"Professor Stewart has once again topped the teaching assessments this month," the aide's voice reached me.

The department head grinned, "He's youthful and competent, not to mention the principal's offspring—his prospects are boundless."

Indeed, he consistently excelled.

Even in the art of inflicting pain, he managed to do so impeccably.

The bell chimed. As I turned to depart, his voice halted me.

"Livia, a word, please."

I approached cautiously, head bowed, wary of anyone noticing any peculiarity between us.

He retrieved an exam paper from his desk drawer.

"You've erred on this question. Redo it."

His nonchalant tone harbored an undercurrent of menace.

Only after the room had emptied did he take the revised paper from my grasp.

With a crimson pen, he slashed a harsh mark across it.

"Incorrect again. Visit my office tonight—I'll instruct you personally."

My lips quivered as I bit them to prevent myself from speaking.

I was well aware of what awaited me.

Each "tutoring session" was nothing short of an arduous test of endurance.

At eight p.m., I stood punctually outside his office door.

Positioned behind his desk, he didn't even glance up.

"Secure the door." His voice was glacial.

The moment I engaged the lock, he pinned me against the wall.

His kiss was harsh, bordering on brutal.

"Observed me throughout an entire lecture—satisfied yet?"

He clutched my waist so tightly it caused discomfort, eliciting a gasp.

"Not here... someone might..." I faltered.

I attempted to push him away.

"Fearful of what?" He sneered. "Aren't you adept at pretense?

"Before your father, you're the flawless daughter. With me, you're merely a wanton..."

Before he could finish, an abrupt, urgent knock resonated through the room.

"Flynn, are you present? Laica Smith has returned from abroad. She's seeking you."

Flynn froze in place, his actions halting abruptly.

I glimpsed something indefinable in his eyes.

Laica Smith.

That name was all too recognizable.

She was Flynn's first love, the woman he treasured above all.

They had separated solely due to her pursuit of a doctorate overseas.

And I? I was merely his diversion during these three solitary years.

"He's not responding. I suppose he's absent," the voice outside concluded before retreating.

Flynn released me and adjusted his attire, heading for the exit.

This marked the first instance he hadn't concluded his business with me before departing.

"Remain here. Don't move." He left those words and exited.

I gradually slid down the wall. Seated on the chilly floor, I stared in the direction he had vanished. My chest ached acutely.

So, when confronted with genuine affection, I wasn't even worthy of the effort to degrade?

My phone vibrated again—another message from my closest confidante.

[The Myers family heir expressed interest in dining with you tomorrow. He appears earnest about you.]

Just as I was about to respond, another notification appeared.