bChapter /bb34 /b

Elena’s POV:

Whispers rippled through the lecture hall the moment I started walking down the aisle, heading for the exit. It was like stepping into a current of judgment, bsharp /band mercilessb. /bbI /bheard the hissed words clearly from a few girls on my left, not even trying to hide their voices.

“Seriously?b… /bslut.”

The heat brose /bup my neck like wildfire, burning up into my ears. I kept walking, jaw clenched, arms folded tighter around my books. I’d known people had disliked me for bbeing /bwith Dmitri. He bwas /bone of the richest, most desirable guys on campus–on paper, at least. That kind of attention always made me a btarget/b. But after what had happened with Niki? With him being his brotherb? /b

Yeah, Now it was open season.

“What’s bnext/b? The fucking professorb?/b” guy shouted with a crudeugh as he stepped past me toward the door. I stopped for half ba /bsecond, stunned. My breath caught in my throatb, /band I stared down at the tile like it could swallow me whole.

Okay. That bwas /bgoing way too bfar/b.

I tried to brush it offb, /btried to bkeep /bwalking–but then bI /bfelt it. A hand. Fingers curling around my wrist and tugging me back.

My head snapped around, fury blooming bso /b

bfast /bit left me breathlessb. /bLazar.

Of course it bwas /bLazar. Disgust curled in my bgut/b. If it had been anyone belse /bbI’d /bhave let bit /bbgo/bb. /bBut not him. Not a fucking Morozov.

bHis /bsmug grin faltered the second he met my eyes, and without thinking btwice/bb, /bwithout caring, my palm satisfying smack that echoed in the quieting room.

whipped bacross /bhis face with a loud,

bGasps /berupted around us.

He bstaggered /bback a stepb, /ba hand bgoing /bbto /bhis cheekb, /bblinking like bhe /bcouldn’t bprocess /bwhat had bjust /bhappened. anyone would ever dare p him.

“Don’t bever /btouch me again,” I hissed, my voice low and bdangerous/b.

bLike /b

he bgenuinely /b

couldn’t

The buzz of whispers turned into a broar /bin my ears. But before bI /bcould beven /bbtake /banother bbreath/b, I turned–and found bmyself /bstaring beyed /bbexpression /bof our bprofessor/bb, /bstanding just boutside /bthe blecture /bhall, frozen like someone had dumped ice water bover /bhis bhead/b.

Shit. I thought he’d left.

bJust /bbgreat/b.

bal /b

the wide-

b“/bMs. bKovalyova/b,b” /bhe bsaid/b, regainingposure quickly. His tone bwas /bclipped. bProfessional/bb. /bBut bI /bcaught the undercurrent bof /bdisapproval. “bPlease /bmeet me in the bfaculty /blounge bwhen /bbyou’re /bdone with your bnext /bbss/b.b” /b

bI /bgroaned internallyb, /bbbarely /bmanaging to nod. bGreat/b. What nowb? /b

bI /bbnced /bonest time over my shoulder. bLazar /bbstill /bstood bthere/bb, /bpalm on bhis /bcheek, blips /bbparted /bin surprise. bHe /bwasn’t smirking anymoreb. /bGood.

When my next lecture ended, I followed the polished hallway bto /bbthe /blounge. My shoes echoed bagainst /bthe tileb, /bbeach /bbstep /bslower than the bst /bbas /bmy nerves built.

bI /bbdidn’t /bwant this. Not today. Not when I balready /bbfelt /blike I bwas /bwalking around with ba /bspotlight bover /bmy head band /ba giant bred /bbtarget /bpainted on my

bback/bb. /b

The lounge door was open when bI /barrived. My professorb–/bba /bbstrict/bb, /bbpriest/bb–/bblike /bbman /bin his bte /bbfifties /bwith bsilver/b–rimmed bsses /band a voice made for documentaries–gestured for bme /bbto /bsit.

“Take a bseat/bb, /bElenab./bb” /b

I did, adjusting my bag awkwardly onto myp.

“Let’s start bwith /byour project,” he said, folding his hands together bover /bthe desk. “You’d chosen the design adaptation bof /bpersonal cars for disabled individuals, yesb?/bb” /b

I noddedb. /bb“/bbYes/b, sir. My prototype design band /bpresentation slides will be ready by the end of this bweek/bb./bb” /b

He nodded slowlyb, /bbtapping /bhis fingers once against the desk. “Excellent, You’re a bright student. Consistent. Which is why I didn’t bexpect /bthis from you.”

b8:41 /bPM

My stomach turned.

b“/bbSir/bb?/bb” /b

His bexpression /bshifted. The

Ah.

armth disappeared from his beyes/b. “This scandal.”

+28

“I understand you have a personal life,” he continued, choosing his words carefully. “I bwas /bsurprised enough when word reached me about your engagement to Mr. Dmitri Vetrovb, /band now to learn that you’ve married his brother?b” /b

I looked down at myp.

“Elena,” he sighed, “whatever is happening in your family is your business. But bplease/b, don’t drag the university into it. These kinds of rumors… they spread bfast/b. I don’t want unnecessary problems. I hope you bwill /bapologize to Mr. Morozov and sort things out with him tomorrow.“,

I clenched my fists under the table. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to cause problems. I–I should’ve kept my personal life private.”

He nodded. “That would be best. Don’t give people ammunition. You have potential, Elena. Don’t let it be overshadowed by tabloid headlinesb./bb” /b

The shame bcrawled /ball the way up to my scalp. I hated the fact that I couldn’t me this on Lazarb, /bbbecause /bbI /bknew the professor would say that I overreacted. I couldn’t afford to offend him by arguing eitherb, /bnot when my grades depended on him. But he wasn’t wrong about keeping my private life private. I needed to be careful.

b“/bbYou /bcan bgo/b,” he said finally.

I stood and bowed slightly in respect before heading for the doorb. /b

Outside the loungeb, /bI pausedb, /bbback /bpressed to the wall, beyes /bclosed.

Honestly? I hadn’t bexpected /bany

of

thisb. /b

Not Dmitri proposing to me on his birthday, like some rom cliche with a hidden btwist/b. At the timeb, /bI had been stunned, bnervous/b, overwhelmed. But I’d said yes. bBecause /bback then, I still believed.

Believed he bcared/b. Like George did for my mother.

Believed that the version of marriage he wanted might somehow align with mine. bBecause /bage didn’t bmatter /bwhen in love right?

But what I didn’t brealize /bbwas /bthat to him, marriage was just a milestone. A box to bcheck/b. Wifeb, /bkids, blegacy/bb. /bThe holy trinity of manhood. It didn’t bmean /bbloyalty/b. It didn’t bmean /bbeing present bor /bbeing faithful.

He would’ve bexpected /bme to smile and cook, braise /bour childrenb, /bsacrifice everything–my body, my timeb, /bmy dreamsb–/bwhile he gallivanted around in the name of providing.

I could already bsee /bit. After what bhe’d /bsaid bst /bnight.

Me bgrowing /bheavier with pregnancy, btired /band anxious, only for him to flinch away and bsay/bb, /bb“/bYou’ve changed.”

Thenb, /bbhe’d /bbcheat/bb. /bme it on biology. On manhood.

The thought made me want to throw up.

I had spent so long thinking I bregretted /bfinding out he bcheated/b. bThat /bif I hadn’t gone looking, bI /bcould’ve bstayed /bblissfully unaware.

But nowb? /bNow bI /bwanted to go bback /bin time and bp /bbmyself /bfor bever /bwishing thatb. /bbFor /bbever /bbbelieving /bbignorance /bbwas /bbbetter /bthan truth.

Yesb, /bbit /bhurt. Yes, it bnearly /bbroke me.

But bst /bnight? Last night confirmed it.

Choosing Niki over him bwasn’t /bjust a safer option. It was bsalvation/b. bHe /bbsaved /bmy motherb, /band in turn me.

Even bif /bNiki wasplicated. Even if our bmarriage /bwas temporaryb. /bbEven /bif I still didn’t know bexactly /bbwhat /bwe bwere/bb–/bI knew this.

Anything was better than the blife /bbI /bwould’ve had with bDmitri/b.

And I was done apologizing for choosing bmyself/b.

Even if the whole damn university bwhispered /babout it.

b2/3 /b