Page 62 of My Forbidden Professor

“In my experience, not everyone who is blackmailed is guilty,” he states flatly. “My daughter would never have fallen in love with just anyone. I trust her and now, by extension, I am deciding to trust you.”

Then he shifts his piercing focus to me, and the weight of a thousand unspoken words passes between us—a lifetime’s worth of longing and love and paternal protection, both given and shamefully neglected over the years. When he finally speaks again, his voice has gone quiet yet somehow even more intense.

“Mark my words, Steph...this ends today. By whatever means necessary, we’re cutting out the rot that’s been allowed to fester.” He shakes his head slowly, mouth set in a grim line of finality. “Daniel and Marcus Sotheby will get what they’re due. I’m taking the gloves completely off for this one.”

A profound sense of relief settles over me. Because I’m not alone in this anymore. Not just Jacob standing at my side, but my family too.

For the first time in forever, I’m...liberated.

The shackles and chains from the past have been unwound. I can finally breathe.

Dad’s eyes blaze as his gaze lands on each of us in turn. “I’m bringing in Tristan to help. Those assholes are going down.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Jacob

The surreal moment surrounds me as I sit in the plush lounge area of David Chandler’s penthouse, surrounded by people who are legendary and powerful business figures. Yet here I am, the center of their intense focus as David—Steph’s father—regards me with an evaluating stare. Beside him, Tristan Booker lounges with an air of casual elegance, swirling a crystal tumbler containing neat whiskey in a long-fingered grip. I’m not naive enough to miss the razor-sharp intelligence clear in his eyes as he weighs me up.

These are two of the most powerful, influential men in the New York business world. Titans of industry who have reshaped the global landscape through talent and unwavering determination.

And I’m just...me.

A simple business analytics professor who has brought nothing but problems to their door.

My gaze drifts sideways to the woman tucked against me on the plush corner sofa that bends around the entire lounge area. Just drinking in Steph’s profile—the delicate sweep of her lashes, the gentle swell of her lips—sparks an ache in my chest.

“You’re doing it again.”

Steph’s murmur breaks me from my spiral, accompanied by the reassuring squeeze of her hand in mine. I blink, finding her studying me with those perceptive coffee eyes that see right through me.

I attempt a half-smile to deflect, squeezing her fingers in return. Let her think I’m just woolgathering rather than doubting myself. But the shift in the room’s atmosphere prickles the hairs on my nape. I glance up to find David and Tristan observing our silent interaction with sharp attentiveness.

David’s laser-focus bores into me while Tristan regards us both with an inscrutable half-smirk, like he’s somehow amused. He’s as amused as the brunette sporting the sharp bun who I now know is Lily Williams, the woman who gave me Steph’s address in the foyer of Blue Sky. I can’t help but think of how the universe has conspired for and against me.

When it’s been good, it’s been absolutely amazing, but when it’s been bad, I want to stab it.

I resist fidgeting beneath the weight of their combined gazes. Whatever they’re silently assessing about Steph and me is irrelevant compared to the battles ahead.

“All right, enough thinking,” David suddenly rumbles, the commanding baritone slicing through the tension. “We’ve got snakes to decapitate.”

Steph inhales sharply beside me, back going ramrod straight as the intensity blazes to life in her body language. She’s made of steel now, every line thrumming with the promise of forward momentum at any cost. She must have gotten that steel from her father.

It’s intoxicating to witness, enough to kick my pulse into overdrive. She’s in her element like this. I can see her shrewd brain working. I cross my legs when my cock swells.

I power up the secure laptop David has given me to use and take a deep breath. “So, this is how I’ve been laundering the university’s money for Marcus. It started small at first,” I begin, fingers unconsciously clenching into white-knuckled fists against my thighs. “Petty cash skimmed here and there, altered invoices, that sort of thing. Enough to keep me off-balance and worried, but nothing that really set off major alarms.”

David grunts in acknowledgment, jaw tensing as he processes the details. Steph’s hand finds my knee, squeezing in silent support.

“But it escalated pretty rapidly after that. Once Marcus had those first tastes of power over me, he got bolder. Greedier.”

Tristan and David lean in as I show them everything. The private networks. The plethora of off-shore accounts. The bank details. Passwords. Logins. Everything is bared. They ask intelligent questions and I answer honestly. I tell them every unethical breach and extortion I’ve been complicit in over the years. I leave nothing out.

It takes a while, but when I’ve finished, I meet each of their intense stares in turn. David’s fury is barely leashed, Tristan’s considering gaze missing nothing, and finally Steph’s blazing look keeps me grounded. She holds my gaze, the connection between us thrumming with palpable force. A small smile curves her lips, reassuring and emboldening.

Tristan places his now-empty glass on the table and leans back. “Where did this all start? He had a hold over you, I gather. Or you wouldn’t have done any of this.”

I pause, mouth dry as I force myself to meet Tristan’s obsidian stare. Steph’s fingers tighten fractionally on my kneecap. I glance sidelong to find her lips pressed into a tight line, but no judgment or censure. Just her usual unshakable support, steadying me to keep pushing forward no matter how excruciating.

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