Please Harder, Professor

Chapter 90

Sophie’s POV

The call comes three days after the trial.

Three days of Adrian's silence. Three days of stilted conversations that go nowhere, of sleeping in the same bed without touching, of the tension from the courtroom hanging between us like a wall neither of us knows how to breach.

Then my phone rings, and Cassian's voice is on the other end.

"I need to see you." He sounds different—steadier than the broken man in the detention center, but still fragile around the edges. "Neutral ground, just to talk. There's something we need to discuss."

I should say no. I should protect the fragile peace I'm trying to rebuild with Adrian, and should avoid anything that might widen the chasm already splitting us apart.

Instead, I hear myself agreeing and see Adrian refuses to let me go alone as soon as I tell him.

"Absolutely not." His voice is flat, final. "You're not meeting him without me there. That's non-negotiable."

I simply nodded. Whatever Cassian wants to discuss, having Adrian present means no room for misinterpretation, no accusations later of secret meetings and hidden agendas.

We ride together in suffocating silence.

The city bleeds past the car windows—gray buildings, bare trees, people hunched against the cold who have no idea about the drama unfolding in this vehicle. I stare at them and wonder what it feels like to have simple problems.

Normal problems. Problems that don't involve scandal and courtrooms and two men who both claim some stake in my future.

The tension from the courtroom is still thick between us, unresolved and festering. We haven't spoken properly since I asked for Cassian's release.

Every attempt I've made to explain myself—why I did it, what I was thinking, what I hoped to accomplish—has been met with clipped responses that shut down conversation before it can begin.

"Adrian, I need you to understand…"

"Not now, Sophie."

"But if you would just let me explain—"

"I said not now."

His knuckles are white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.

He's restraining himself. I can feel the anger coiled beneath his composure like a snake waiting to strike, and I know that if I push too hard, it will snap.

So I stop pushing, let the silence swallow us whole.

The café Cassian chose sits on the edge of town—a quiet place with mismatched furniture and hand-painted signs, the kind of establishment that values privacy over aesthetics.

When we walk in, he's already there, seated at a corner table with a clear view of the door.

He looks healthier than he did in court. Some color has returned to his cheeks, and he's clearly been eating again—his clothes fit better, his frame less skeletal.

But there's still a worn quality to him, an exhaustion that goes deeper than physical fatigue.

He stands when I enter, and his eyes flicker to Adrian with barely concealed hostility. The two men regard each other like rival predators forced to share territory—all controlled aggression and unspoken threats.

"Sophie." Cassian's voice is careful, measured. "Thank you for coming."

"Don't thank me yet." I slide into the seat across from him, Adrian positioning himself beside me like a bodyguard. "I don't know why you called, and I'm not making any promises until I do."

Cassian nods slowly, his eyes never leaving my face. "Fair enough."

I speak first, before he can steer the conversation in whatever direction he's planned. I need to set the boundaries immediately, need to make sure he understands exactly where we stand.

"I didn't save you because I forgave you." The words come out steady, certain. I've rehearsed them in my head for three days.

"What you did was wrong, Cassian. You helped a woman who wanted to destroy me. You fed her information, gave her opportunities, betrayed my trust in ways I'm still discovering. Those sins were real."

He opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off.

"But they weren't worth years of your life rotting in a prison cell. That's why I spoke up at the trial—not because I've forgotten what you did, but because the punishment didn't fit the crime. You made terrible choices while trying to protect someone you cared about. That's not the same as being a monster."

"Sophie…"

"I'm not finished." I hold up my hand. "What I did in that courtroom doesn't mean I want you in my life. It doesn't mean anything has changed between us. It means I chose mercy over vengeance, and that's all it means. Do you understand?"

The silence stretches between us. Cassian's expression cycles through something complicated—gratitude, hurt, resignation—before settling into acceptance.

"I understand." His voice is quiet, humbled. "And I'm grateful, Sophie. More than I can express. I know I don't deserve your mercy."

"You don't." Adrian's voice cuts in, sharp as a blade. "But apparently my opinion on that matter doesn't count for much."

I feel his anger radiating beside me, but I don't take the bait. Neither does Cassian.

"There's something else." Cassian leans forward slightly, his hands flat on the table. "The reason I asked to meet. I need to discuss something with both of you."

"Then discuss it." Adrian's tone makes clear his patience is already exhausted.

Cassian takes a breath. When he speaks, his voice is steady, but I catch the slight tremor beneath it.

"I want a DNA test. For the baby."

The words land like a bomb in the center of the table.

Adrian's composure shatters. "Who the hell do you think you are?" He's halfway out of his seat before I grab his arm, pulling him back. "You have no right, no claim—"

"I have every right."

Cassian remains calm, unmoved by Adrian's fury, and somehow that composure only makes Adrian angrier.

"Sophie and I were together, Adrian. We were intimate during a time that falls within the conception window. I'm not saying the child is mine—I'm saying it could be."

"It's not." Adrian's voice is ice and fire simultaneously. "Sophie is carrying my child. Mine."

"Then prove it. A DNA test will settle this definitively."

Cassian meets his glare without flinching.

"If the results show you're the father, I'll disappear. You'll never hear from me again—no contact, no custody claims, nothing. I'll walk away and let you build whatever life you want together."

"And if the test shows otherwise?" The question escapes me before I can stop it.

Cassian turns to me, and his expression softens into something painfully earnest.

"If the child is mine, I want to be involved. In whatever capacity you'll allow, no matter who you end up with. I won't abandon my own child, Sophie. I can't."

The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating.

I feel both men watching me, waiting. Adrian's fury on one side, Cassian's desperate hope on the other. And me in the middle, carrying a child whose paternity has suddenly become a question mark instead of a certainty.

I think about the timeline. About the weeks when Cassian and I were together, when Adrian and I were apart, when my life was chaos and I was grasping at anything that felt stable.

I think about the dates, the math, the terrifying possibility that I've been wrong about something fundamental.

"Okay." The word comes out barely above a whisper. "I agree to the test."

Adrian's sharp intake of breath cuts through the silence, but he doesn't argue. There's nothing to argue—the question has been raised, and now it needs an answer.

Cassian nods, relief and fear warring in his expression. "Thank you, Sophie. I know this isn't easy."

Nothing about any of this is easy. But I keep that thought to myself. Outside, as we walk to the car, I notice Adrian fall slightly behind.

His phone is pressed to his ear, his voice low and urgent—a conversation he clearly doesn't want me to hear. I catch fragments: "...need to move faster..." and "...can't wait any longer..."

When I approach, he ends the call abruptly, thumb jabbing the screen with barely contained irritation.

"Who was that?"

He pockets the phone without meeting my eyes. "No one. Let's go home."

I follow him to the car, but the suspicion that's been building for weeks grows heavier with every step.

Adrian is hiding something. Something beyond his anger about Cassian, beyond his fear about the baby.

And I'm running out of patience for his secrets.