Page 138 of Wicked Little Secret

What in the hell is he doing here? I thought after that night…

Actually, I’m not surewhatI thought would happen.

I just know that I didn’t expect to return from my trip toRoseburg and find Professor Adler waiting to resume criminal law as scheduled.

“Silence,” Professor Adler demands the instant the clock strikes ten.

The soft murmurs around the room die off and he peers at his captive audience with a distinctly unimpressed air.

For everyone else in the room, it’s the same Professor Adler he’s always been. For me, after everything we’ve been through, it feels like I’ve walked into some alternate universe.

Our relationship never happened.

The past three months have been nothing more than a figment of my imagination.

…until a news alert pops up on my phone with the headline:

Where is Samson Wicker? Where Has the Son of Recently Deceased Billionaire Jackson Wicker Gone?

My head’s bowed, my attention on my phone screen and nothing else.

“Miss Oliver,” comes the smooth, commanding voice from the front of the room. “How about you put your phone away during classroom hours so that you might actually learn something?”

Professor Adler’s reprimand feels like a slap across the face. My cheeks warm as other students shoot me amused looks like I haven’t outperformed every single one of them in this class.

“Sorry, Professor,” I mutter.

But I’m ignored.

Professor Adler presses on like I haven’t uttered a word. He instructs us to open the case study folders we’ve beengiven and then proceeds to quiz us on various legal elements involved in the case.

Jose Zardoya raises his hand from the front of the room to answer his question about double jeopardy. My hand is up in the air too, as it’s often been during class, eager to show Professor Adler what I know.

Zardoya’s called on. He answers, and Professor Adler gives an impressed nod of his head.

The class rolls on. Some students, like Heather, begin to lose steam. As the topic shifts to the jury deliberation for the case, Heather’s admiring the glossy finish on her gel nails.

When the next question comes, my arm’s shooting up to answer first.

Professor Adler skips right over me and selects Macey instead.

The hollowness I’d felt over winter break returns. It’s a bottomless sensation that tricks my mind into thinking my body’s in free fall.

Really, it’s my heart. The manifestation that represents the feelings I’ve developed.

Try as I might, I can’t pretend it wasn’t real.

The relationship Professor Adler—Theron—and I had wasn’t as pretend as I’d originally intended. Though I might’ve betrayed him the night he murdered Samson, it doesn’t mean it was an easy decision to make.

It was the hardest move I’ve made yet, not warning him about the police on the way. Letting him find out firsthand as they showed up.

In this revenge plot I’ve been carrying out, it was like betraying the one person who hadn’t hurt me in some capacity.

…but hehashurt you.

He’s Valentine. He murdered your mother. Your real mother.

The whisper is like a hiss in my ear. An icy, slithery reminder that I’m devoted to my mission until the very end.

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