Please Harder, Professor

Chapter 220

Adrian’s POV

Ten days since Sophie disappeared. Ten days of searching, following dead leads. Ten days of razor wire and empty space.

I'm fracturing. The control I've maintained my entire life is cracking.

Amelia won't stop crying. Hours of crying now, days, with brief intermissions for sleep and feeding. But even when she's quiet, there's this look—confused, searching, waiting for someone who isn't coming.

She senses her mother's absence. She knows Sophie's gone.

I try to comfort her, rock her, sing to her. But I'm not Sophie. My arms aren't her arms. Amelia knows the difference.

"Shh, princess. Daddy's here."

She wails louder, her tiny face red with misery.

I've never been alone with the baby this long. Sophie was always there—the one who knew instinctively what every cry meant.

My mother helps when she can, Derek and Emma too. But I can't keep asking them. They have their own lives, their own grief. Nobody knows how long this is going to take.

The admission destroys me. Hiring a nanny feels like admitting I've failed—as a father, as a partner, as the man who was supposed to keep Sophie safe.

The woman sitting across from me now is the fifth candidate today.

Claire, twenty-six years old—young, beautiful, with long dark hair and a professional smile. Perhaps even the same age as Sophie—or close to it.

I wasn't choosing the nanny based on her appearance. The qualifications matter—experience with infants, CPR certification, references. That's what I'm looking for.

Though the length of the skirt she wore to the interview was hard to miss.

Short. Professional enough, but short enough to draw attention. I take note of it, my mind cataloging the detail automatically, but I'm indifferent. My thoughts are preoccupied with Sophie, with the search.

Everything else is just noise.

"So you have experience with newborns?" I ask.

"Extensive experience," Claire says, leaning forward slightly. "I was a night nurse at Mount Sinai for two years before transitioning to private care. Infants are my specialty."

She smiles. It's a nice smile—warm, engaging, the kind that probably makes most men notice.

I notice it the way I'd notice any data point—objectively, distantly.

"References?"

"All included." She gestures to the folder. Her hand moves with practiced grace, manicured nails against the dark wood. "My former employers have all been very satisfied."

Perhaps that's why I don't notice the young nanny's seemingly obvious flirtation. The way she leans in when she speaks. The way she touches her hair. The way her eyes linger just a beat too long.

I'm not looking for that, not seeing it. Every neuron is dedicated to finding Sophie.

"Your qualifications seem solid," I say. "The position would require…"

My phone buzzes. It’s Vincent Marchetti.

"Excuse me," I tell Claire, already answering. "I’m listening."

"We found something." Vincent's voice is clipped. "Bellamy rented a cabin. Months ago. Back in January."

My blood runs cold. "January?"

"This was premeditated, Adrian. He's been planning this since the beginning of the year. This was calculated."

Premeditated. Not a moment of madness—Bellamy has been planning to take Sophie for months.

"Where?"

"Upstate New York. Near the Catskills. I'm sending you the coordinates now."

My phone buzzes. A pin on a map—three hours north of the city. "How sure are you?"

"Property's in a shell company name, but we traced it back to one of Bellamy's old military contacts. It's him."

"I'm on my way." I hang up before he can tell me to be careful.

There's little time to consider options. Sophie is three hours away. Every second wasted is another second she's with him.

I look at Claire, who's watching me with concern that might be genuine or performance. I don't care which.

"You're hired," I say abruptly, standing. "The position is yours. My mother, Eleanor Lewis, will handle all the details while I'm gone—paperwork, payment, everything. She'll also be staying overnight at the house. She'll be responsible for managing all matters until I return to handle them myself."

Claire blinks, processing the sudden shift. She rises smoothly, adjusting her skirt. "You're leaving right now?"

"Emergency, family matter. My mother will be here within the hour." I'm already moving toward the door. "She'll show you where everything is—Amelia's room, the formula, the schedule. You start immediately."

"Of course, Mr. Lewis. I understand completely."

She smooths her skirt again, and something flickers across her face—disappointment, maybe. Annoyance that her new employer won't be home. That whatever opportunity she might have been hoping for won't materialize right away.

I notice, of course, it’s hard not to see the way her professional mask slips for just a second, revealing calculation underneath. But I couldn’t care less. I have too much on my plate already, and a young seductress is not on it.

My mind is already three hours north. Already planning the route, calculating arrival time, thinking about what I'll do when I find him. The apartment around me feels suffocating suddenly—too small, too far from where I need to be.

I'm dialing Ayden before I reach the door, phone pressed to my ear, keys already in my other hand. My heart is pounding but my hands are steady. This is what I've been waiting for.

Ten days of helplessness, and finally, finally I can act.

"Adrian?" He answers on the first ring. He's been waiting too. We all have.

"We found him." The words taste like victory and violence. "Bellamy. I've got a location."

"Really? Where?"

"Upstate, Catskills area." I'm already in the hallway, leaving Claire behind without another glance. "How fast can you get here?"

"Twenty minutes."

Not fast enough. Every minute feels like an eternity when Sophie's out there. "Make it ten."

I hang up without waiting for his response. My thumb is already moving to the next contact, muscle memory guiding me through the familiar motions. Mom. I need to secure Amelia before I can leave.

The elevator is too slow. I take the stairs instead, descending two at a time, phone ringing in my ear.

"Adrian? What's going on? Any news about Sophie?" My mother answers with that edge of perpetual worry that's been in her voice for ten days straight.

"I hired a nanny, Claire Morgan. She's at the apartment right now. I need you to come over immediately and manage everything while I'm gone. I'll be away at least overnight, maybe longer."

"Does this mean you found Sophie?" Her voice cracks with hope and fear.

"I found where Bellamy might be. I'm going to get her."

"Adrian, please be careful."

"I'll call when I can. Just take care of Amelia. Please."

"Always. Go bring your fiance home, sweetheart."

I'm in my car before she finishes talking. Engine running, GPS plotting the route. Three hours to the coordinates. Three hours between me and Sophie.

Three hours between me and Bellamy.

My hands are steady on the wheel. The fracturing feeling has solidified into something cold and sharp and focused.

Bellamy planned this, spent months setting it up, which means he wants her alive.

The rage crystallizes into something pure and deadly. When I find him, he's not walking away.

Ayden pulls up beside me. He throws himself into the passenger seat. "Cleo's handling social media."

"Good."

"You know this could be a trap?"

"I don't care."

Ayden looks at me and whatever he sees makes him nod slowly. "Let's go get my girl’s best friend back."

I pull out into traffic. Three hours. Maybe less if I push it.

Hold on, Sophie. Just hold on a little longer.

I'm coming.