Please Harder, Professor

Chapter 97

Sophie’s POV

The afterglow of our quiet night together lingers for days.

I catch myself smiling at nothing—at Adrian's hand on my back as he passes through the kitchen, at the way he checks on me before leaving for meetings, pressing a kiss to my forehead and murmuring something about being home for dinner.

At the domesticity slowly weaving itself into our chaos, thread by fragile thread.

Even the scandal feels distant now. Still circling, yes—the internet never forgets, and I've learned to avoid the comment sections where strangers still dissect my life for entertainment.

But it's manageable now. Background noise rather than a constant scream. The pregnancy announcement has faded from breaking news to old gossip, replaced by fresher tragedies for the public to consume.

I start to believe we might actually survive this.

That our relationship has emerged stronger, tempered by fire. That all the pain and exposure and impossible choices have burned away everything weak, leaving only what's real. What's solid. What can last.

Then I see it.

I'm coming downstairs for water—it's past eleven, and the baby has decided that midnight is the perfect time to press on my bladder. The apartment is quiet, most of the lights dimmed, and I'm padding barefoot across the hardwood when I hear voices from Adrian's study.

Low, tense. The kind of conversation that's not meant to be overheard. I pause on the landing, one hand on the railing.

Adrian and Bellamy. But not their usual clipped exchanges, the professional distance they maintain when I'm present. This is different. There's history in Adrian's tone—something defensive, almost guilty.

And Bellamy's voice is harder than I've ever heard it, even during our worst confrontations in the car. Accusatory—that's the word. He sounds like a man demanding answers he's owed.

I catch fragments through the partially open door.

"...can't keep pretending it's not catching up with you." Bellamy's voice, sharp with frustration. "Marchetti’s people have been asking questions. The kind of questions that get answered one way or another."

"I'm handling it." Adrian, tightly controlled.

"You're handling nothing. You're hiding in this apartment playing house while debts you swore were settled are coming due."

"Those debts are mine to manage."

"They stopped being just yours when you dragged me back into this. You called me, Adrian. You asked for my help protecting her."

Something slams—a hand on a desk, maybe.

"But you didn't mention that protecting her might mean protecting her from the consequences of your past. Consequences you still haven't told her about."

A silence. Then Adrian: "She doesn't need to know."

"She's carrying your child. Possibly. She's living in your home, surrounded by your secrets. She deserves—"

"She deserves to be safe. That's why you're here."

"Safe from what, exactly?" Bellamy's laugh is bitter. "From the media? From Cassian? Or from the people you used to work for, who might decide she's leverage?"

Then Bellamy says something else—quieter, harder, words I can't quite make out and Adrian goes silent.

A long, terrible silence that stretches through the crack in the door and wraps around my chest like a vice. I've never heard Adrian speechless. Never known him to have no response, no deflection, no carefully constructed answer.

Whatever Bellamy said, it landed and I step into view before I can stop myself.

Both men turn. The study is dim, lit only by the desk lamp, but I can see enough. Adrian's face shutters instantly—smooth, controlled, unreadable. The mask sliding into place so fast it's like the vulnerable man from our quiet night never existed.

Bellamy's expression is colder, but I catch something else beneath it. Something that looks almost like a warning. Like he's telling me to walk away, to pretend I didn't hear what I heard.

I don't walk away.

"What's going on?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel. I stand in the doorway, arms crossed over my chest, waiting.

Adrian recovers first. "Nothing. Old business Bellamy and I were discussing. Nothing that concerns you."

"It sounded like it concerns me."

"You misheard."

"I heard my name, Adrian. I heard something about debts and consequences and people asking questions." I take a step into the room. "I heard Bellamy say I deserve to know something. What do I deserve to know?"

"Sophie." His voice carries a warning. "It's late. You should be resting."

"Don't do that. Don't dismiss me like I'm a child who wandered into an adult conversation."

"I'm not dismissing you. I'm telling you this isn't something you need to worry about."

"That's not your decision to make." I look at Bellamy, hoping for an ally. "What were you talking about? Who is Marchetti?"

Bellamy's expression doesn't change. He glances at Adrian, some silent communication passing between them, then back to me.

"Ask Adrian."

"I'm asking you."

"And I'm telling you to ask Adrian."

I turn back to Adrian, frustration building in my chest. "Fine. I'm asking. Who is Marchetti? What debts? What past are you hiding from me?"

"Drop it, Sophie." His voice has gone cold now, all traces of softness stripped away. "This isn't a conversation we're having."

"Why not? Because you don't trust me? Because you think I can't handle whatever ugly truth you're protecting me from?"

"Because some things are better left buried."

"That's not an answer!"

"It's the only answer you're getting." He moves toward the door, toward me, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the small space. "Go back to bed. We'll talk in the morning."

"We'll talk now."

"No." The word is final, sharp enough to cut. "We won't."

The fight that follows is ugly. No tenderness, no soft edges, no memory of the intimacy we shared just days ago.

I push and he deflects. I demand answers and he builds walls. I tell him I'm tired of secrets and he tells me some secrets exist to protect people. I ask him to trust me and he says trust isn't the issue.

"Then what is the issue, Adrian?" My voice breaks on his name. "What could possibly be so terrible that you can't tell me? After everything we've been through?"

"Some doors don't open, Sophie. No matter how hard you knock."

"That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair. I thought you'd learned that by now."

The words land like a blow. I stare at him, searching for the man who held me so gently, who admitted he didn't know how to do any of this—and I can't find him.

There's only the professor now, the dominant, the man who controls everything and everyone around him. Including me.

"Fine." My voice comes out hollow. "Keep your secrets. But don't expect me to pretend they don't exist."

Adrian doesn't respond. He turns away, retreating into his study.

The door closes behind him.

I stand alone in the hallway, trembling with anger and something worse. Hurt. Betrayal. The sick feeling of realizing that the man I love has entire chapters of his life I'm not allowed to read.

Bellamy passes me without a word, heading toward his room. He doesn't offer comfort or explanation. Just disappears, leaving me alone with my questions and my fury.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to stop the shaking.

If Adrian won't give me the truth, I'll find it myself.