???
Three more people walked in the doorway—two with towels wrapped at the waist, one with a towel draped over his shoulders. Of course, they were all naked.
While they were still frozen, I bolted out the door.
Me—Lily Hart—had come with my girlfriends to soak in the hot springs today.
Instead, I wandered into the wrong bath and walked in on a man’s naked body.
What surprised me even more was that the man was our new professor.
"Lily, are you going to Professor Chase’s class?" someone asked.
"No."
I buried my head under the covers and scrolled through Weibo.
"I heard that professor is insanely handsome! He graduated from our school—he’s actually one of our senior alumni!"
"Not interested."
"I heard he’s super strict. Miss a class and forget about your credits."
I yanked the blanket back, jumped out of bed. "Class, class—stop dawdling, we’ll be late."
Credits?
Credits are life right now.
Fail another class and I won’t graduate!
When I got to the lecture hall I almost thought I was in the wrong place—packed to the rafters, everyone dressed to the nines, pushing and shoving to get in.
"Students, are you from our class?" I grabbed a girl’s arm to ask.
She blinked—fake lashes nearly touching her eyebrows. "What do you mean our class? We’re all here to see Professor Chase!"
Just then a chorus of excited gasps rose from the front, followed by girls screaming, calling out "Professor Chase" and "Senior Julian."
I frowned. It’s just a professor. Is that necessary?
Like someone famous had come to bless us.
A male voice rang out from the crowd, cool and steady, low and powerful: "If you’re not a student in this class, please leave."
That voice sounded familiar.
My roommate hauled me, elbowing us deeper into the lecture hall. By the time we squeezed in the crowd had thinned, though a cluster still lingered around the front and back doors.
I bent to find a seat, then glanced up at the podium—and nearly died on the spot.
Wasn’t that the naked guy?!
Today he wore glasses that added a hint of dignity and a well-tailored suit, but that face—how could I forget?
I reflexively raised my book to hide my face and prepared to run. My roommate pinned me to the seat first.
"First class and you want to run? You really want to fail?"
Before I could answer, the man at the podium said calmly, "Close the doors."
Both doors were shut. I lowered my head, resigned.
"My last name is Chase. I’m Julian Chase."
After he said that, the classroom fell completely silent.
Everyone waited for the usual opening remarks, but Professor Chase didn’t do the expected. He pulled out the roster and began calling names.
"My class doesn’t allow absences. I take attendance every session."
He flipped the roster. "When you hear your name, stand so I can mark you present."
Please be last, I prayed.
"Lily Hart."
When he said my name my scalp prickled.
WTF?
Not last—not even middle—first?
I stood, forcing on what I hoped passed for a sweet smile. "Here."
He glanced at me once, not lingering, then read the next name. "Sydney Cole."
Relief washed over me. He didn’t recognize me.
The entire lecture was a blur. Only after class, when Julian packed his things and stepped down from the podium, did I relax fully.
A few seconds later that cool voice came from the front door: "Lily Hart, come to my office."
I looked up. He was watching me; the light behind his lenses made his expression unreadable.
Professor Chase’s office was private. I stood by the door like a good little student.
He loosened his tie, sat, and methodically brewed a cup of tea, then motioned for me to have some.
I grinned obsequiously. "Heh heh, Professor, nice to meet you."
Clear enough, right?
I didn’t see anything. Even if I did, I wouldn’t say a word.
He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and took a sip. "I don’t want to hear rumors about me around campus. You understand?"
"Yes, yes."
I nodded so hard I might have wagged a tail if I had one.
Back in the dorm I collapsed on my bed. My roommates swarmed me with questions.
"Lily, what did the professor want?"
"Shut up," I told them.
"Are you two… acquaintances?"
Not really. I just saw him naked.
"I heard he’s super cold and doesn’t do women."
Whether cold or not, he’s not someone to mess with.
"Lily, talk! You’re killing me."
I yanked the covers over my head. "Oh nothing, he asked me to be his class representative."
"Is that a big deal?"
Of course the campus had already started whispering. Rumors about Professor Chase—except the main character in those rumors was me.
"Have you heard? The new professor apparently used to be this otherworldly type, totally unattached, but guess what—he’s fallen into mortal matters!"
"I heard he called that girl to his office after class. Tsk tsk, lone man and woman!"
If my roommate hadn’t been prying me open, I’d have ripped that gossip monger’s mouth off.
"Forget it, Lily. We’re here to relax. Don’t get tangled in stupid stuff."
True. Don’t let it ruin the mood.
We stormed into a bar. The moment I sat at the bar a chill ran through me.
In a corner I spotted Julian—tilted head, smiling, a long-haired, sultry woman draped over his left arm and a cool, short-haired, fierce-looking woman on his right.
I leaned in low. "Let’s go."
They nodded in unison.
I picked up my bag to leave and suddenly a bottle of alcohol splashed across my face.
"Shameless—how do you keep haunting me?"
A sharp female voice screamed.
My roommates gasped. I calmly grabbed a napkin and wiped my face.
No need to look—this woman was familiar.
She was Maya Turner, my ex’s current girlfriend. Loud, abrasive, and uniquely grating.
"What do you mean?" I arched an eyebrow.
"Hmph. Don’t you have any shame? Ethan dumped you ages ago—why are you still following him?"
"Be specific. Who’s following him?"
She rolled her eyes. "We found this bar yesterday and now you’re here. What’s your angle?"
I snorted and slapped her hard across the face.
My palm went numb. Maya staggered two steps back, stunned.
"Ethan’s trash—you think he’s treating you like a treasure? Gross. What dog eyes made you think I’m here with him?"
A crowd gathered. I didn’t want Julian to see a scene, so I grabbed my friend to leave.
Ethan walked up, and I could smell him before I saw his face.
He smirked. "Haven’t seen you in months, Lily. You’re getting feisty."
"Back off."
I was irritated.
"You slapped her and you think you can just leave?"
"Oh, do you want one too?"
I squared my shoulders. With all these people around, did I really think he’d dare touch me?
Ethan rubbed his nose. "Kneel and apologize to Maya and we’ll call it even. Otherwise—"
I smashed the bottle on the table, pointed at him. "Try me."
Tension. My back went rigid.
"Lily?"
That familiar, cool voice sounded behind me. I rolled my eyes—seriously, everything was piling up.
I spun and flashed my practiced smile. "Oh! Professor—what are you doing here?"
He glanced at me, then at Ethan, arching one elegant brow.
"Apologize to each other and be done with it. It’s not a big deal," Julian said, positioning himself as peacemaker.
Maya snarled, "Who the hell are you?"
A group of men in suits suddenly materialized around Julian, all hard-faced and menacing. They formed a protective ring at his sides.
Julian flopped onto a couch, hands folded behind his head, languid. "Julian," he introduced himself.
I honestly had no idea what kind of man Julian was, but Ethan’s face went pale as soon as he heard that name. He forced a laugh, trying to defuse things. "Oh—Julian, no big deal."
He shot Maya a look. "Apologize, now."
Maya pout-whispered a half-hearted "sorry." I smugly raised an eyebrow and caught Julian’s gaze. I grinned and said, "I’m not perfect either. Sometimes you have to hit before you truly know someone."
Julian stood. His voice neither loud nor soft: "When are you all heading home?"
"Right now. We’re leaving now!"
"Good. I’ll have someone escort you."
"No need, Professor. That’s too much trouble. We can drive ourselves."
I waved him off.
He looked at me with a smile that wasn’t really a smile—danger threaded through it.
"Professor, thank you so much. Where’s the car? We’ll go now."
I suddenly changed tone and fawned.
Julian curled his mouth. "By the entrance, and—"
"Professor, we’ve had a lot to drink tonight. We probably won’t remember a thing tomorrow!"
I played along. Personas must be kept.
I grabbed my roommate’s hand and we slipped out of the bar.
"Lily…who is this professor really?"
"Who cares? He’s not someone we can mess with. We didn’t see anything tonight, okay? Or—" I made a slitting-throat motion that left them stunned.
That night I had a wet dream.
In my mind a woman curled in a corner, a man stripped off his clothes piece by piece—pale shoulders, lean waist, long legs.
The woman covered her eyes. In the next second, his hand forced her chin up and his mouth covered hers in a rush of kisses.
"Open your eyes."
His voice was low, sensual.
The woman trembled and opened her eyes to a face both familiar and impossibly refined—narrow, expressive brows and dark, slanted eyes.
"Lily Hart."
He called my name with such languid ease.
I shuddered and snapped awake, my heart pounding like I was about to suffocate.
Did I just have a wet dream?
And the lead was me and Professor Julian Chase???
I quietly climbed out of bed.
"Lily, you’re up so early today," my roommate said.
I gave a weak "mhmm," grabbed clean underwear from the closet, and ran to the bathroom for a shower.
Get it together, Lily Hart!
Looking at myself in the mirror, I shook my head hard. It’s just nudity—don’t people on P sites see this all the time?
They all look the same, right?
Stop being such a loser, you!
A tiny voice in my head shot back immediately: No, Professor Chase looks better!
…Professor Chase only teaches three classes a week, so most of the time you can’t see him around campus.
For some reason that made me a little secretly pleased.
His presence was intense—being in the same room with him felt suffocating.
But the others didn’t see it that way; they wailed and swooned, desperate to catch a glimpse of Professor Chase’s perfect face every day.
I sneered, "He’s not that divine. You guys blow him way out of proportion. He’s only a little prettier than normal—can’t hold a candle to my Logan."
They all suddenly looked down in unspoken agreement or pulled out their phones and pretended to make calls.
What’s that about?
Looking down on my Logan?
I had to set them straight.
"Looks like our class rep has a lot of free time," a cold male voice said from behind.
I honestly didn’t know when Julian appeared at the top of the stairs. Even with ten guts I wouldn’t have dared say that.
He wasn’t wearing a suit today—less formal. A gray long coat over black pants made him look almost boyish. He had a book open in one hand and was watching me with a frosty smile.
I turned to bolt.
Julian snapped the book shut with a "smack" and said calmly, "Come here."
He led me down the hall to his office and locked the door behind us.
My heart leapt—was he finally going to show his true colors?
Julian raised an eyebrow and scoffed, "What are you clutching your chest for?"
???
"Flat as a board."
…After two seconds’ thought I lifted my chin and gave him a little cleavage push: "Professor, you haven’t even seen anything. Who are you to insult me?"
He strode to the couch and sat down. "Fair enough…"
He paused, took off his glasses, and leaned back lazily. "Then take it off so I can see."
My brain shorted for a beat. I ground out, "Pervert…"
Damn.
Julian curled a smile. "Isn’t that the phrase I should be saying to you?"
I rolled my eyes, unsure what trick he was playing. "Professor, I swear I haven’t offended you."
He shifted to a more comfortable position. "You keep seeing things you shouldn’t. Why so coincidental?"
So?
He thinks I’m spying on him?
I stood up straight and bowed like a good student. "The first time… I really didn’t mean it. If you could overlook it, sir, please forgive me. As for the bar—believe it or not, I was there because of my ex."
Saying I went because of my ex sounded more believable than admitting I followed him. He was so suspicious; I didn’t want him watching me forever.
A flicker of surprise crossed Julian’s eyes. After a pause he said, "If I’d known, I wouldn’t have saved you."
"Then go," I said.
He finally spoke.
I hid my delight. "Okay, Professor. I’ll go."
"So who’s your Logan?" Julian tilted his head, curious.
I fought a grin and kept my voice steady. "Oh, he’s a celebrity I like."
He understood, nodded, and reached for a textbook on his desk. His fingers were pale, long, the knuckles defined.
It was kind of pleasant to look at. Cute, even.
From then on, Julian and I went a whole semester without incident. Winter came.
It rarely snows in Ashford—this year was no different.
I propped my chin on my hand and sighed, "Sigh, no snow again, every year the same."
"Did you hear?"
"Professor Chase was admitted to the hospital yesterday."
"I heard he jumped in to save a little girl."
"They say he fought off a whole group by himself—so handsome!"
"I’m so regretful. Why wasn’t I there? Why wasn’t I the one he saved?"
I rubbed my hands together. "Professor in the hospital? For real?"
Maybe my grin was too bright; they all turned and shot me dirty looks. I quickly changed my tone and offered fake sympathy. "Oh, how awful. Professor’s such a good man—a modern-day hero!"
My phone chirped with a call from an unknown number.
Usually I’d hang up, but I was in a great mood and answered happily.
"Hello?"
A low, familiar voice came over the line and I almost threw my phone. "Lily Hart, Harborview Medical Center, floor six, bed five. Come now."
"Professor… I have class."
"Do you?" he said, amused. "If you don’t show in half an hour, this semester’s credit… Lily, it’ll be hard for me."
"Okay, Professor. I’m on my way. Want me to bring food?"
"Bring money."
He hung up. I sighed, grabbed my bag, and sprinted for the hospital.
Ten minutes later I burst in.
Julian lay with his leg in a cast and an IV, smiling. "You’re here. Go pay the bill first."
…
So that was why he called me—go be his wallet?
Bills, X-rays, retrieving films—by the time hospital business was done, I was exhausted.
Julian lounged comfortably, scrolling on his phone.
"Professor, where’s your money?"
"My card’s frozen. No cash," he answered as if it were obvious. My scalp tingled with irritation.
That’s his excuse? That’s Command-Me time!
"So… why did you act bravely then? For what?"
I swore if he said "love and justice" I’d shove a hand over his mouth.
He hesitated while scrolling, then narrowed his eyes. "If that had happened to you, would you hope a stranger would save you?"
Of course I would.
He hummed. "So you see, I became your hero."
Even if that were true, what did it have to do with me?
"Professor, I think—"
"Come here."
He beckoned. I was suspicious but obediently sat close.
He straightened, looked at me for a long moment, then reached out. I ducked automatically, and he calmly plucked a paper scrap from my hair.
"Tsk, Lily Hart, can you wash your hair before you come see me next time?"
…
My face flushed. Anyone else and I’d have let them know why flowers were so red.
"I’m hungry. Want dumplings."
He said it and tucked himself into bed like a king.
When I returned with dumplings, he was asleep.
I almost poured the steaming bowl over his face.
Still—seeing Julian entirely unguarded like that made my hands itch.
For reasons I can’t explain, I crouched and pinched his cheek. He opened his eyes in an instant, cold and sharp.
God, I fell backward onto the floor.
When he realized it was me, he lazily raised an eyebrow. "Lily, getting bold? Trying to grope me?"
"I… I said I wasn’t trying to, do you believe me?"
He crossed his arms, unconvinced.
I searched for an excuse, spotted the dumplings, and put on a pleading smile. "I was worried they’d get cold."
Julian smirked. "Fine. I’ll let you off this once. If there’s a next time—"
He narrowed his eyes dangerously. I bowed and promised, "Professor, I swear there won’t be a next time!"
Only then did he relax his gaze. I hurried to hand him the dumplings. He ate one and closed his eyes with satisfaction.
Picky eater.
After the dumplings it was night. I leaned by the window, watching the busy street below, wondering why I was here taking care of this professor.
"It’s going to snow."
The person behind me said it out of nowhere.
I rolled my eyes. "Professor, Ashford hasn’t had snow in over a decade."
It was true—the last snowfall I remembered was middle school. One year during study hall, delicate flakes drifted down, and the teacher just let us out to play.
Memory fades with time.
"Is that so?" The tail of his sentence lifted—kind of sexy.
I was about to answer when huge flakes started falling outside, thick and soft, like a thousand tiny spirits.
I jumped to my feet so fast my head buzzed. A brief blankness, then I babbled, "It’s… it’s really snowing, Professor!"
I reached for the window, then remembered the other patient and pulled my hand back. I turned to Julian—his mouth was curved in a smile—but at the moment I looked away, the smile disappeared.
"Open it," he said stiffly.
I grinned and opened the window, cupping my hands to catch the falling snow.
People on the street stopped; some filmed, some closed their eyes and made wishes. I snorted—who wishes on snow?
But they’d say that confessing to your crush during the first snowfall would be heard by the gods.
Hands clasped, I silently begged: God, if you’re listening, please tell me where my soulmate is.
While I was wrapped in dreamy thoughts, the man behind me interrupted at the worst time.
"Lily, come here. I need to use the bathroom."
…Why the hell did he call me for that?
I turned. Julian had slid his foot out of the cast and was sitting at the edge of the bed waiting for me to assist him.
???
"Didn’t you break your leg?"
"Who told you that?"
"The cast?"
"Ah, that was a prop. The cast is more comfortable."
Julian smiled.
…So he totally toyed with me.
I was about to storm out when he said evenly, "Credits."
I stayed to help him up. "Professor, you know, doing your own bathroom stuff—"
He leaned on me, that half-smile tugging at his mouth.
I woke up the next morning to Professor Julian Chase shaking me awake—his hand was ice-cold. The moment his fingers brushed my cheek I snapped up like I’d been shocked.
After tending to that old grump until he finally went to rest, it was already past one in the morning and the dorm had long since locked. I’d crashed on the couch because I was utterly exhausted and didn’t have the energy to move.
Julian was already dressed, looking crisp and composed, wearing those gold-rimmed glasses that made him seem so calm and refined.
Of course, that only lasted as long as he didn’t open his mouth.
“You sleep worse than a pig.”
He stood and pulled open the door. “You going to get going? Addicted to the couch now?”
I smoothed the fuzzy blanket off myself and folded it, still feeling groggy.
Did I even cover myself with a blanket last night?
When did I do that?
Did I sleepwalk?
The hospital AC made the room feel cold; once I stepped outside I realized how freezing it actually was.
The ground was covered in thick snow. A bitter wind cut right through my bones and I shivered, teeth chattering.
The heavy snowfall finally made Ashford feel like winter.
Julian glanced back at me, paused, then asked the most useless question: “Are you cold?”
I didn’t even bother to roll my eyes—just gave him a smile that didn’t reach my face. “Professor, do I look warm to you?”
He faltered, like he’d been struck mute.
That was a sight—Professor Chase, the master of rhetoric, actually at a loss for words.
Then a black coat, still warm from his body, was draped over my shoulders. He tugged at the collar. “Don’t get sentimental. Consider it medical expenses.”
I quickly pawed at his hand. “No—no, Professor. I’m not cold. Really.”
He looked up and raised a brow. “Grades.”
…When I graduate I am absolutely exposing this man’s evil deeds.
He made a call. Two minutes later a Range Rover roared up. After he got in he asked, “Want me to give you a lift?”
As soon as we got to campus he was swarmed—layers of students surrounding him but keeping their distance, because rumor had it Professor Chase didn’t like people getting close.
If they knew I’d pinched his face last night and was now wearing his coat, they might tear me to shreds.
I tried to sneak back into the dorm, but Julian’s eyes caught me. “Lily Hart.”
My scalp prickled. “Here.”
“Return the coat when it’s cleaned. It’s on a time limit.”
Every gaze turned to me—jealous, angry, resentful.
He was definitely doing that on purpose.
Back in the room I collapsed, starfishing across my bed. My roommates swarmed, chattering.
“Lily, you slept out? And came back with Professor Chase—what were you two doing last night?”
“And you were wearing someone’s coat when you came back?”
“I heard you got in and out of a car!”
“Lily, stop playing dead!”
I rolled over and left them my back. “I’m exhausted. Let me sleep.”
“Professor Chase is that good? All night??”
“Multiple times, Lily—you look wrecked.”
“Lily, you beast!! How could you lay a filthy hand on our pristine Professor!”
I didn’t even bother responding. He’s the beast, okay?
My Professor's Obsession Broke Me
I slept until five in the afternoon. When I got up my head was fuzzy. I splashed cold water on my face in the bathroom and patted until I felt slightly more awake.
The girl in the mirror was flushed in a way that wasn’t normal. My gaze was scattered.
My phone buzzed. I glanced down—Ethan Cole.
“If you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”
“Lily, when are you going to be a little gentler?”
“None of your business. If you’ve got nothing, hang up.”
“I’m at your school gate. Come out—I’ve got something for you.”
I hung up, shook my head, and threw on a big coat before stepping out.
Ethan was leaning by the gate, a cluster of girls around him giggling at whatever he said. My fingers twitched—he used to spin me into a fog with his words too. I wanted to sock him.
He waved when he saw me. “Lily.”
I frowned. “What is it?”
The girls dispersed like a stage curtain. It was just Ethan and me.
He looped an arm around my neck with a careless grin. “Come on, Lily. Catch up—”
I pushed his hand away coldly. “Don’t act like we’re close.”
“Tsk. So heartless. Should’ve listened to Baldy and taken that pill—would’ve been nice for you to enjoy yourself under my brother’s trousers.”
My stomach lurched. I squeezed my eyes shut as the world spun. “Ethan, my patience is limited. Say what you came to say.”
“Nothing much. About that night at the bar—my girlfriend’s still upset. As a devoted boyfriend, I should probably cheer her up.”
What?
My body—trained in taekwondo since childhood—picked up danger behind me even with my head swimming, but my limbs didn’t respond in time.
Something slammed the back of my head hard. I blacked out.
Damn him!
I woke to bloodcurdling shouting and a headache splitting my skull. My limbs were tied; ropes bit into my wrists and ankles. I scanned the room and realized I was in a KTV private room.
Ethan always picked the same lewd spots—my toes could’ve told me which one.
“Well, look who woke up.”
Ethan’s insufferable voice was right beside me. I turned and saw him and, behind him, Maya Turner dressed like she’d been raided by a wardrobe fire.
“You two really are doing the thing they say,” I sneered after a beat. “Dog and bitch—meant to be.”
A slap crashed into my face, hard enough to tilt my head.
They were so fucking vile.
Maya strutted up, blowing on her hand before melting into Ethan’s arms, pressing her chest against him. “Oh, baby, my hands really hurt.”
Ethan laughed and groped her, making her sigh in faux pleasure.
If my hands weren’t tied I would make them regret it.
A metallic tang touched my lips; I licked and tasted faint blood.
Ethan shoved Maya aside and crouched, snapping my chin up. Desire flickered in his eyes. “Lily, after all this time with you I’ve never tasted you.”
My scalp tightened. I lifted my eyes and coldly asked, “You dare?”
He laughed. “What don’t I dare?”
“You animal!” I hissed.
“I love when you’re flustered and helpless. Lily, tonight I might as well eat a real meal—”
He started unbuttoning his shirt.
My head throbbed. I strained to think of a way out but the pain was drowning everything.
Ethan had shrugged off his jacket and was about to undo his belt. I spat, “Here? In front of your friends? In front of your girlfriend?”
He cocked his head. “What’s the difference? Isn’t it better this way?”
I laughed through my fear. “A live audience, huh?”
He waved it off. “I don’t care.”
Goddamn it.
“I need to pee,” I blurted, trying to stall.
“Lily, are you kidding? If I untie you you’ll beat up everyone here, right?”
My jaw clenched. Was I really going to fall into this trash’s hands today?
My phone buzzed. I glanced—Professor Chase. I felt a dizzying relief like salvation.
Ethan scoffed and reached to hang up, but I grabbed the phone. “It’s Professor Chase. He’s calling me—you better not—”
Ethan hesitated and signaled the others to hold. Then he put the call through.
“Where are you?” Julian’s slightly husky voice sounded on the line. There was background noise, making it sound surreal.
Ethan shot me a warning look. I inhaled and shouted at the top of my lungs, “Professor—help! I’m at LeDawn KTV—”
Ethan slammed the phone down.
He lifted my chin angrily, visibly annoyed.
I forced a smile. “What’s wrong, Ethan? Scared? You know who Professor Chase is. You gonna touch me?”
He sneered, then briskly started undoing my coat.
For the first time panic clawed at me—I headbutted him hard and he yelped, but then my left cheek took an even harder slap.
The blow left me ringing and dazed.
They stripped me down to a single shirt and cold crawled over me. Ethan’s grin was vicious. “So Lily, you’re scared now? Don’t worry—before your professor gets here my boys will take care of you.”
He reached for my shirt. I bit down hard on his hand until my mouth filled with metallic heat.
He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back into the wall. Pain exploded and the room spun.
My last clear thought was a prayer that Julian would get to me in time.
Consciousness blurred. Then the door was kicked open with a thunderous crash. Chaos erupted—screams, scuffles—and I slid into a stranger’s warm, protective arms, a scent distinct to him wrapping around me.
“Lily Hart.”
The familiar, cool voice whispered in my ear.
My taut nerves finally slackened; I curled into that embrace and mumbled without meaning to, “Professor…”
It felt like a terrible dream. In it Ethan became a monster chasing me. I ran until I couldn’t anymore; just as it pounced a man appeared, drove Ethan off, and scooped me up.
I could understand all of that—except why the man was Julian? And why wasn’t he wearing clothes?
I opened my eyes to a white ceiling and the sharp sting of disinfectant told me I was in a hospital. Julian was slumped on a sofa, head tilted, a few stray hairs on his brow. His lashes cast shadows over his eyes. His long, straight legs were casually crossed.
My throat clicked dry and my mind finally threaded itself together.
Thinking of what had been done to me last night made me grind my teeth. Ethan—I'll make him pay.
Did Julian save me? The call was only minutes before. How had he gotten there so fast?
“You awake?”
His cool, lazy voice made me start.
I hadn’t noticed when he’d woken; he was looking at me with a raised brow. I managed an awkward laugh. “Yeah…”
The sound came out a harsh rasp. My throat felt like sandpaper.
Professor Julian got up and poured me a glass of water. I felt oddly flattered—did the grumpy professor get a character makeover?
After drinking it, my throat felt a lot better. I glanced at the man with his head down, scrolling his phone, and still couldn't help myself. "Professor, were you the one who saved me last night?"
Julian didn't lift his head. He replied lazily, "Mm."
"Thank you…"
I hesitated, then said, "I'll pay you back."
He finally looked up and arched an eyebrow, amusement in his eyes. "With what—your body?"
I bit back the instinctive "pervert" that almost escaped.
"Why were you tied up?" he asked.
"He ambushed me."
I snapped, indignant.
"…Then why were you meeting someone like that?"
"Um… because he lied and said he had something for me. I thought it was real."
"You had a fever, you know that?"
He sounded anything but friendly.
"…I didn't."
I'd thought I was just light-headed—turned out I had a fever. If I hadn't, I would've beaten them senseless.
Silence settled between us until a phone call cut through it.
After Julian answered, his expression darkened. He hung up, grabbed his coat with one hand, and paused at the door to tell me, "After your IV, go straight back to school. I have to leave."
I hurriedly nodded, and only then did he leave.
A few days of rest helped; I was mostly recovered. I went straight to find Ethan Cole, ready to make him pay.
When I got to his place, I found out he'd already moved out.
Did he move to avoid my revenge?
"Who knows who he pissed off. Heard both his hands got chopped off."
"Tsk tsk, that's not all—heard that part was taken too!"
"Serves him right. Karma."
I stood on a bridge in the cold wind for a long time, thinking. Could it have been Julian?
But why?
Could Ethan have crossed him? He didn't seem like the type to go head-to-head with someone like Julian. Julian gave off a dangerous vibe—people usually stayed clear of him. So why would he get involved?
Why would he do it for me?
The thought hit me and I slapped my own face. Lily—get a grip.
After turning it over and over, I decided to ask Julian directly.
Calling him for the first time, I was nervous—my palms sweaty. The call rang forever with no answer. Just as I was about to hang up, he picked up.
"Professor Chase…" I started, and he cut me off.
"Pan Mountain Road… come…"
He said that and then hung up.
I stood there, stunned, then ran out and flagged down a car. "Driver—Pan Mountain Road, please hurry."
His voice on the phone had sounded bad.
The mountain road was one-way, and he hadn't given specifics. I stared out the window, scanning helplessly, eyes aching and seeing nothing. Up ahead, a guardrail was bent and broken. I forced myself to stop the car.
The driver sped off; accidents happened on this stretch all the time. I ran to the broken guardrail and peered down. There it was—Julian's Land Rover.
The front had smashed into a tree; the windshield was probably shattered. Hazard lights blinked in the dusky light, strangely eerie.
The car lay about two meters below. I jumped down.
Julian was slumped in the driver's seat. The airbag had deployed, cushioning his head, but he still had blood at his temple.
"Professor? Professor Chase?"
I pounded the window. His eyes opened slowly—dark, deep as still water.
I found a sharp stone and smashed the glass, then used my pocketknife to cut his seatbelt. It took everything I had to pry him out.
"Professor… can you walk? Should I call an ambulance?"
He frowned, then, after a long moment, murmured, "Don't call the police. Call the second person on my contacts."
I nodded.
I called; someone picked up after one ring. I gave a rough summary of the situation, the person was silent for a second, then hung up.
I slipped Julian's phone back into his jacket pocket. He smiled faintly. "I thought… I'd die here today."
"Don't say that, Professor. You have good luck. You're not going to die that easily."
His wrist suddenly grabbed mine. I froze as his weight leaned on me. I sat perfectly still, too afraid to move.
He sounded exhausted; his voice was small, but unexpectedly gentle. "Lily Hart—stay with me, okay?"
I remembered how he had stayed with me in the hospital that night when I had a fever. I sighed and whispered, "Okay."
Julian's people arrived fast. From the way they looked, they were bodyguards. They didn't take him to a hospital; instead, they drove him to a villa.
I hadn't planned on going, but Julian clung to my hand as though in a nightmare, brow locked in pain.
The villa sat inside a quiet estate near the second ring road. The moment we arrived, several doctors rushed in. They were sweating, shouting about cracked vertebrae and broken leg bones.
There was no way this was just a simple car accident. Could Ethan have struck back? As doctors worked and carted out bowls of bloody wash water, my chest tightened.
Only late into the night did they slow down, wiping their brows. I finally let out a breath.
I intended to leave with the doctors, but a bodyguard stopped me, bowed politely, and said, "Miss Hart, please stay and watch over him until the boss wakes. I'll handle the school."
Before I could argue, he closed the door.
Great—back to playing nurse for His Majesty.
I waited by his bedside for a long time. Julian lay unconscious, brow deeply furrowed even in sleep. I tried to stay awake, but my eyelids betrayed me—I dozed off.
The next morning the sun woke me. A huge floor-to-ceiling window poured light into the room, burning my eyes.
"Water…"
Julian murmured behind me. I went downstairs and poured lukewarm water.
"Professor? Professor?"
I called twice with no response, then reached out and tapped his face. He opened his eyes slowly.
I handed him the cup. "Here—water."
He coughed, and after a while croaked, "Can I even drink like this?"
I grabbed a spoon from the kitchen and fed him, spoonful by spoonful.
After the water, his color eased.
"Lily."
He said my name.
"Yes, Professor."
"If someone tried to kill you—"
He left the sentence hanging, looking at me for an answer.
I thought it over. "Call the police. At least it won't be fast. Maybe you'll survive if the law steps in."
Julian lifted an eyebrow. "You're more law-abiding than you look. But if I hadn't made it there that night, would you have called the police then? Let the officers do your fighting?"
Police? I frowned. Had Ethan really touched me that night, I would've ruined him—exactly repay him in kind.
He shot me a glance and smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. His voice turned dangerous and cold. "Killing is easy. To deal with monsters, you must be more monstrous."
His smile was casual, but his eyes were raw with murderous intent.
"Prof—can I ask something?"
"Ask."
"Did you…have Ethan…hurt?"
He shrugged back into that lazy pose, casual as weather talk. "Yeah. I didn't just chop off his hands. I took away his chance to be a man."
I forced a laugh. "He…offended you?"
"No," he said.
"Then—"
He turned to me suddenly and asked softly, "He hurt you. Shouldn't he be dead?"
I froze.
His blind protectiveness and irrational devotion bewildered me.
"Prof—what do you mean?" I stammered.
"Come here."
He motioned. I moved closer on autopilot.
"Come closer."
I leaned in a bit more.
He still frowned, reaching out. I moved even closer, afraid he'd tangle with his wounds.
Then I realized how wrong the position felt. Too intimate. Too close.
"Li—Lily."
He called my name softly. I looked up—and my forehead collided with his lips.
They were cold.
It lasted a beat. Reflexively, I yanked back, stood, and bolted for the bathroom.
What the hell had just happened?
Did I just get kissed by Julian Chase?
Does that even count?!
My face burned as I stared at myself in the mirror—flushed, eyes soft…embarrassed.
Get a grip, Lily. This isn't your first kiss.
My inner critic yelped: No! This is different! He's the professor!
Screw the professor! I slapped the little voice down and tried to act nonchalant as I walked out.
"Ahem…Professor, you seem better. I'll head back to school."
Julian gave me a long look. "Are you sure, in this state, you're really going back?"
Pretty much immobilized, barely able to take care of himself.
I pushed and lied through my teeth, "If I don't go back now, I'll fall behind in my classes."
"I'll tutor you."
"You're an economics professor, right?"
He smiled like spring. "Oh? I'm versatile."
And so began several days and nights of forced cohabitation with the old tyrant.
His recovery was freakishly fast. A vertebral fracture usually takes weeks to heal—but on day five he was sitting up.
"Professor, are you sure your back is okay?"
I looked from the plain congee in my hands to him.
He shifted into a more comfortable pose and said, suggestively, "If you want to know how my back feels, why don't you try?"
I stood there speechless, convinced he was teasing. I almost dunked the spoon in his mouth—then thought better of it.
One: I didn't dare. Two: he held the power over my grades.
"Since you can sit up, you can probably feed yourself."
I offered the bowl with a smile, but he sulked and refused to reach for it.
"Professor…"
"I'm the patient, Lily Hart. You wouldn't leave a patient with a broken bone to eat by herself, would you?"
I nearly lost it.
The bowl of porridge was licked clean; His Highness nodded in satisfaction and offered his critique.
"Hmm… it's a little bland."
I rolled my eyes. "You seemed pretty pleased while you were eating. Now that it's gone, suddenly it's bland? As if the person who was practically inhaling it just now wasn't you."
"Tch, Lily, are you a little dissatisfied with me?"
I covered my mouth to hide a grin. "Professor, you're overestimating yourself. It's more than a little."
Maybe after a few days together, I actually dared to sass him.
Good job, Lily Hart.
I planned to make myself scarce, but the bastard was faster. He grabbed the hem of my shirt and gave a vicious tug; I fell back onto the bed with a thump.
A muffled groan came from beside me—I guessed I'd landed on his wound.
I should've stood up right away, but after days of running myself ragged, I couldn't be bothered. Instead, I pressed down harder.
"Lily, I didn't expect you to bear grudges."
He let me press on him and there was an almost-smile in his voice.
Hmph. I'll press you to death, I thought.
"Lily."
Professor Julian Chase's voice was a little husky.
I turned. "What?"
His gaze darkened; his narrow eyes half-closed. "You're very dangerous right now. Do you know that?"
Dangerous?
I smiled faintly. "Professor, do you think you—half-paralyzed—could beat me?"
He lazily arched a brow, then the hand at my waist tightened and pushed me toward him. He dropped his eyes. "Do you think I can't control you anymore? Hm?"
The trailing note was teasing, irresistibly sexy.
His lashes were long enough to brush my face; warm breath feathered my ear, his scent wrapping around my nose. My heart began to pound uncontrollably.
I stiffly tried to get up; he silently increased the pressure.
Then someone knocked at the door. A calm voice called outside, "Boss, the madam's here."
Coldness flashed across Julian's eyes for a second, then he slid back into his usual languor.
"Let her in," he said, leaning away.
"Should I… step out and stand somewhere?" I pointed at myself.
"No, you stay right there."
I didn't understand why he wanted me to stand there, but did I dare disobey? No. I stood obediently.
A woman entered—well cared for, with not a wrinkle in sight. Her skin was pale and smooth, and she wore a red lipstick far too bold for her age—loud, impossible to ignore.
Her cheongsam was tailored to flatter, and a mink coat draped over her shoulders gave her an aura of wealth and command.
Perfume flooded the room and it was cloying.
She fretted, looking at Julian. "Oh, Julian, can't you let me worry less? You're always in the hospital or getting into car accidents lately. You worry me to death. What if I have to tell your grandfather I've lost you?"
She hid her face and began to cry.
Julian smiled. "Sorry to make Aunt Grier worry. But it's fine; I'm looking into the car accident."
The woman's hand paused mid-wipe. "Looking into it?"
Julian folded his arms—smile thin and controlled. "Yes. You know my cars are maintained on schedule. Brakes don't fail on their own. Someone did this intentionally."
He paused, then his eyes curved into a softer smile. "I've been a professor for months now, and some people seem to have forgotten what I used to do. Aunt Grier, if I catch who did this, how should I punish them? Kill them outright?"
The woman's smile faltered. "It seems you have a lead, Julian. I just remembered there are things at the estate I need to handle. I'll go back first—take care of yourself."
She moved to the door. Julian raised a brow. "Isn't it Yin-Yin's birthday at the end of the month?"
She nodded, smiling. "Yes. We're planning a small gathering. Julian, you must come."
He tilted his lips. "Of course."
The second she stepped out, his smile disappeared like a mask being shed; the room went deathly quiet.
"I'm tired. I want to sleep. You can go out now."
He spoke brittlely.
As if released from punishment, I bolted downstairs.
I wasn't scared of Julian. He didn't terrify me. I was just starving.
Two bowls of porridge later, my stomach finally felt a little less hollow.
Thinking back to him sitting alone on the bed—so solitary and weary—I sighed. I must've owed him in another life.
When I opened the door, he was pretending to nap. I approached cautiously, crouched, and rested my head on the edge of the bed. "Professor, I was just really hungry. I didn't mean anything else."
His lashes fluttered; he slowly opened his eyes.
Our gazes met and my heartbeat punched in my ears.
He watched me for a while, then took my face between his fingers.
"…?"
He suddenly smiled, low and husky and a little dangerous. "Lily, do you want to hear my story?"
He told me his story. Behind that indifferent mask was a life I hadn't guessed.
Julian had a happy childhood at first. They were poor, but his parents always gave him the best they could. The three of them squeezed into a bed not even five feet wide; his mother hummed them to sleep and his father told him about outer space every night.
He said those were the few years that always made him smile—then it all changed.
His father was exposed as the illegitimate son of Ashford's richest family—Mr. Aldridge. Suddenly, the extended family discovered him. The old patriarch's sons had had tragedies: the eldest died in a car crash, the second was assassinated, the third succumbed to mental illness and was institutionalized.
In a matter of years, the patriarch seemed decades older. Then it was revealed he had another illegitimate son—a college professor down at Harborview.
They brought Julian's father into the estate. Julian became part of the Aldridge family.
Everything flipped. Chauffeurs, new clothes, money always in his pocket. But his father, newly promoted to general manager, worked longer hours. His mother became more distant, drifting through more and more days in a daze.
Julian missed his father, but his father was home less and less, nights increasingly gone. Then the patriarch died and everything fell on his father—he grew even busier.
His mother fired the servants, and the big house housed only Julian and his mother.
One day, his father brought home a woman who was gaudy and meticulously maintained. Julian's mother, still with stains on her face from cooking, looked helpless beside her. That night, Julian overheard his father and mother talking about business alliances and deals. The woman moved in brazenly. His mother sank into depression and lost her mind.
One evening after study hall, Julian went home on a whim and heard shameless noises from behind that woman's door. He pried it open a crack and peered in—the man on the bed was not his father.
He clapped his hand over his mouth and ran to his mother's room, forgetting to close the door. His mother held him close, covered his mouth to hush him, and he nodded—he slept in her arms and went to school the next morning.
Two days later, his mother was dead.
When his father told him, it struck Julian like a lightning bolt.
After that, he changed. He refused to follow the path his father set for him. He started frequenting bars, ran with the wrong crowd, fought, smoked. He became volatile, even rising to a leader among the thugs. Teachers couldn't control him; his father stopped trying. He'd come home expecting a beating and eventually just got used to it.
Julian was smart—fast to learn—so he didn't just merge into the underworld; he balanced both sides. He made business moves and influence spread. In Ashford, he could cast a long shadow.
"Later I found out it was because I caught that woman in the act that my mother died," he said, eyes dropping as though he didn't want to remember.
My hand moved on its own to his head. "Don't think about it, Professor. Don't go back there."
"So, Lily, can you imagine how much I hate her? I want her torn apart, buried without a grave!"
His voice chilled the room—bitter and cruel. His whole body trembled.
My chest wrenched. The hand that had covered his ear now curled around the back of his neck.
"It'll pass."
I patted his back, soothing him, on instinct. I don't know why I did it. I just felt that beneath that impossible facade he was a fragile boy.
Suddenly everything spun and I fell into the soft bedding. Julian pinned my hands above my head; I was flipped over, disoriented. Horror flashed: his waist was still injured. "Professor, your back—"
My words were cut off by his mouth.
Cool lips, aggressive. I froze, breath gone, until he released just a fraction and I gasped in air.
"Can't breathe?"
He arched a brow lazily, then gave a low laugh. "So silly."
I was about to snap back and he didn't give me the chance. He gently lifted my chin. His phoenix-like eyes narrowed, utterly seductive.
I sighed inwardly. Damn him.
If I couldn't escape it, I might as well enjoy it. After all—what a face. No losses there.
With that thought, I reached up and looped my arms around his neck. Julian's body went rigid, then his presence washed over me like a tide.
My senses shattered. I hooked my arms around his waist and murmured softly, "Professor…"
He fought to hold back, sighed in defeat, and pinched my cheek. "Lily, not now. My back isn't healed yet."
It took me a full three seconds to process what he'd said.
"Then why did you seduce me?" I asked.
I blurted the question out without thinking, my tone sharp.
Professor Chase narrowed his eyes, smiling like a fox. "May I take that to mean you're throwing a tantrum because you didn't get what you wanted?"
His face flushed in waves. I shoved at his chest. "Get off me. You're crushing me."
He pressed his lips into a smile, kissed my eyelid, and cooed, "Be good. Let me rest my back first."
My ears burned crimson. I kept my voice casual. "What does your back being better have to do with me?"
That night I slipped out of the villa in the dark. He was too much—too tempting. My common sense told me to stay away.
Julian came back two weeks later. I thought he was some kind of miracle—people usually took a month to recover, and he was bouncing around in half that time.
The hallway was packed the day he returned to class. I sighed; of course he was a magnet wherever he went.
The little voice in my head popped up again: especially in bed!
I privately scolded myself—such a sin, such a sin.
Thanks to Professor Chase, my grades didn't fall behind; if anything, I understood a little more than everyone else. He never wasted words in lectures—he picked out the core points. If I didn't get something, he'd pull me aside and explain it individually.
He should have been a picture of a childhood basking in love and sunshine, but when I thought back to that night when he talked about his mother—those eyes cold as ice, the trace of despair and loneliness down to his bones—my chest pinched.
Why, Lily?
Could it be… I liked Professor Chase?
With Ethan, it had been mostly his mouth—smooth talk that dazzled. He tried dozens of approaches to chase me until I finally gave in to his relentless pursuit.
Being together didn't change much. I met his friends, went to the bars he frequented, stood up for him a lot. I didn't really know what it felt like to be protected, or cherished, or truly loved.
Did I like Ethan? I probably did.
We'd kissed—once. Around three months in, Ethan threw a lively little party. After everyone left, I was a little drunk. He picked me up and brushed his lips against mine. I snapped awake and, reflexively, swung a punch. My fist nearly landed before I realized it was Ethan and pulled myself back.
I was silent for a long time. Then I turned my face away in disgust. "…I don't like people touching me."
From then on Ethan didn't dare touch me.
First relationship, zero clue. I felt guilty later. On his birthday I'd resolved to take a step—just one kiss would do. I sneaked out of the last class to go to his place. The sounds of breathing and bodies were overwhelming. I opened the door without expression and found two people naked in his bed.
Ethan’s face went from red to pale to green. I let a cold smile curl my lips and slammed the door.
I broke up with him on the spot, blocked his calls and socials.
Was I sad? More angry and relieved than anything.
Romance just wasn't for me.
Professor Chase's clear, low voice floated back from the lectern and I stared, zoning out.
Julian felt nothing like Ethan. When Ethan grabbed me that day, my head was full of Julian—afraid he might not come, afraid if he did and couldn't handle it, what then. The first time I was in Julian's arms, I felt a steadiness I'd never felt before.
When I saw his car mangled on the side of the road, my panic was unlike anything I'd ever felt. Only when the doctor said he'd be okay did my heart unclench.
When our lips briefly touched, I didn't feel like swinging at him. Instead, I instinctively curled my arms around his neck. What was that?
Those thunderous heartbeats were out of my control. I used to think someone like me couldn't be moved like that—but Julian seemed to be an exception.
Lost in thought, I didn't even hear him call my name twice from the podium. My roommate nudged my arm and I snapped back to attention. "Present!"
Laughter rustled around the room. Julian’s expression darkened. He scanned everyone, voice cold. "Others, continue studying. Lily, come to my office."
I packed up quietly and followed him like a good student.
The moment I stepped into his office, he swung the door shut behind us. He pinned me against it—his right hand bracing the door, his left at my waist.
I froze for a couple seconds, and before I could process it he pressed his lips to mine—decisive and not a little fierce. I gasped and shoved him away when I could breathe, and he looked at me with mock hurt. "Heartless little thing. You really just run off and don't even check back on me."
I'd come expecting a scolding. Instead, I was flummoxed.
After a beat, I asked the first question we'd spoken in two weeks: "Is your back better?"
Julian had been standing stiff, then his shoulders relaxed and he laughed.
Wasn't it normal to be concerned about his injury? But he wore that mischievous smile, and I thought of that hurried escape from the villa, embarrassed and angry, and lifted my foot to kick him.
Quick as a cat, he intercepted my leg midair with one long limb. Lazily, he arched an eyebrow, leaned close, and licked my lips. "Better," he said.
Better is better… so why the sleazy grin?
I wanted to snap at him, but the position suddenly felt inappropriate. I hesitated. "Could you—maybe—let me go?"
His dark eyes shimmered. Just when I thought he'd relent, he murmured two words: "I won't."
Then he scooped me up around the waist. For one floating, weightless second I curled my arms instinctively around his neck.
He sat down on the sofa, flipped me so my back was against his chest, his head pressed to my shoulder, voice muffled and low. "Lily, I miss you so much. Every moment, like I'm going crazy."
Something feather-light traced my heart. I felt unbearably soft.
I stayed quiet for a long time, and finally accepted it deep down.
I liked Julian Chase.
"Julian."
I spoke his name.
Maybe because it was the first time I actually called him that, he froze for two seconds before replying, "Hmm?"
I exhaled. "You might not believe me, but damn it… I think I like you."
And without any fanfare, we were together.
My roommates were the first to know. He called just as I was washing my hair.
"Lily, the phone's ringing."
I had shampoo in my hair, so I mumbled, "Who is it?"
"Professor?"
"Pick it up and tell him I'm washing my hair."
My brain didn't process, so I had her answer for me.
Three seconds later I remembered and ripped off my towel, sprinted back to the dorm. My roommate had already put it on speaker. Julian's lazy, familiar tone flowed through. "Lily, are you coming?"
The room went silent. They all stared at me like detectives. I took the call, said yes fast, and hung up.
"Professor's voice? Professor Chase??"
"Lily, it's just for a credit. Don't make a big deal out of it!"
"When did this start? How far along are you?"
A message popped up from Julian—a question mark. My mouth twitched.
He really picked his moments. Under threat from my roommates, I told them about the kidnapping by Ethan and how Julian had rescued me.
"Told you Ethan was trash. He really is!"
"Professor's amazing! Two thumbs up! And that aura—who is he? Does he have friends? Introduce me!"
I rolled my eyes and tuned out their shrieks. After my shower I changed and planned to step out.
"Coming back tonight?" my roommate grinned wickedly.
My ears flushed. "Uh… no."
There was no way I was coming back; Julian would never let me.
He sent his bodyguard to pick me up. The guard handed me two boxes. I frowned. "What’s this?"
"For Miss Lily. It's from the boss."
I almost cursed. Lingerie? Two sets?
Julian had that kink?
I flipped one open with disdain to find a pair of high heels. Tiny crystals sparkled along the straps, catching the car's light like a magnet.
The other box held an evening dress—champagne-colored, delicate and elegant.
A partition rose between the front seats and the back. The bodyguard's voice came through: "Miss Lily, please change into these in the car."
About half an hour later the car stopped in front of an old mansion.
I blinked sleepily. The door opened. A long, pale hand reached out and Professor Chase's face appeared at the threshold, eyebrow cocked. "Almost late, my little Lily."
The house screamed old money—crystal chandeliers that lit the interior like daylight.
I leaned toward Julian and whispered, "This much money? Those chandeliers alone must be worth a fortune!"
He turned. "If you like it, we can decorate our house like this too."
I pinched the soft flesh on the back of his hand. "Such a show-off."
He raised an eyebrow, laughter threatening to spill from his eyes. "Lily, tonight, there's a show worth watching."
He looked up at two figures slowly descending from the second floor—mockery tugging at his mouth.
A man and a woman. The man looked older, his legs infirm, leaning on a cane. The woman was made up to the nines, wearing a jade-green fitted cheongsam.
My eyes flicked. That's the woman who'd been at Julian's place that day.
The woman settled the man and climbed a small dais to speak. Her smile was polished; her manner graceful. "Thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to attend our Yin Yin's birthday party…"
I remembered now—something about a birthday party, and Julian had said he'd definitely come.
I tilted my head. "Why are you here? To congratulate them?"
If he said yes with a grin, I might have smacked him.
He squeezed my cheek. "Lily, the performance begins."
The party was in full swing. The birthday boy was a little kid—maybe six—an adorable, doll-faced child. Everyone cooed over him, but I couldn't bring myself to feel anything. Maybe it was because of Julian.
The boy was named Jamie Chase, Julian's half-brother.
He ran up to Julian and offered him the cake, voice all baby-soft: "Brother, thank you for coming to celebrate my birthday today!"
Julian crouched to take the cake, then scooped the kid into his arms. "So, Jamie—do you want the birthday present your brother brought?"
Excitement lit up the little boy's eyes. "Jamie wants it!"
Julian's smile curled in a way that sent shivers down my spine.
He nodded toward the bodyguards. Suddenly the lights went out. Two seconds later, a single spotlight hit the foyer. Everyone held their breath, thinking it was some staged moment, until a man walked through the door.
He was middle-aged, but his features still hinted at a handsome past. He stood there without a word, and the room fell into confused silence—who was he and why was he here?
Julian chuckled lightly, then brushed Jamie's nose and murmured, "Jamie, call him Dad."
The room went quiet for a beat, then erupted.
Everyone knew Old Mr. Chase had his son late in life and had spoiled the little Chase heir beyond reason. If Jamie wanted the stars, Old Mr. Chase would buy them. And now—this wasn't even his child?
I glanced at Grace Meyers. Her face had gone paper white, her expression tight with dread.
Julian held Jamie like a trophy, his smile growing more arrogant by the second. "Aunt Grace, this is a gift for Jamie—and for you. What, you unhappy?"
Grace sprang to her feet, furious. "Julian, don't you spread lies. I don't even know that man! I've treated you well since your mother died! And this—this is how you repay me?"
Julian's face darkened. "You still have the nerve to bring up my mother? If I hadn't caught you and that man's affair, she wouldn't have died."
His tone was so cold it made the room feel smaller. I reached out and squeezed Julian's arm. He shut his eyes, then smiled again. "If you think I'm lying, let's do a paternity test."
Grace's color drained, then she suddenly dropped to her knees beside Old Mr. Chase and wailed, covering her face—admitting she'd been fooled, confessing she had no idea, claiming she hadn't truly loved the man she cheated with.
I grew nauseous. One second she swore her innocence, the next she was rehearsing contrition to save herself.
Most of the guests were business associates of the Chases. To have this family scandal blow up in public—Old Mr. Chase's face went ashen.
"Julian," he said flatly, "enough."
Julian released Jamie and crossed his arms, chin tilted. "When Aunt Grace hired people to kill me again and again, why didn't you stop her?"
My scalp prickled. So the hospitalizations and the "accident"—they'd been engineered? Why would someone like Julian be in a car crash, or end up in the hospital rescuing people?
Grace jumped up, trembling with rage. "You came here to ruin our event, didn't you?!"
Julian raised an eyebrow, uninterested. "Yes. So?"
A cluster of men in black surged forward and surrounded the mansion. Screams broke out in the hall as Julian lounged on a sofa, legs crossed, too casual to care.
He tugged my wrist. I backed up and sat beside him. He bent and played with a strand of my hair, voice cold as ice. "Tonight I'm asking everyone here to witness what a filthy, nauseating place the Chase household really is."
He spoke each word evenly, recounting betrayals—his father's treachery, his mother's death, and all the times he'd cheated death. Only I could see his hand trembling slightly.
Old Mr. Chase closed his eyes, his cane hand shaking.
When Julian finished, the room fell silent. People instinctively leaned toward him; the space around Old Mr. Chase felt suddenly hollow.
Grace shouted, "Don't listen to his fabrications! This is all made up!"
Julian licked his lips and smiled like a viper. "Aunt Grace—have you ever wondered if Jamie isn't your child?"
"What?" It hit Grace like a thunderclap. She stumbled back and collapsed onto the staircase. "You mean…what did you say?"
Julian's smile didn't fade. His words slithered: "Oh, Jamie isn't yours. When you were having your affair, your lover was cheating, too. Your baby died at birth, but they pulled a switch—replaced your dead infant with their son."
"Aunt Grace, how does it feel raising someone else's child?"
Grace stared at the man in the doorway. He kept his head bowed, silent. Her knees went weak and she nearly fainted.
Julian stalked over, grabbed Grace by the hair and forced her head back so she had to look at him. "I know you wish you'd killed me," he said quietly, and whispered something in her ear. A few seconds later she let out a scream so raw and gutting it rent the air—she screamed Julian's name with venom that cut the room open.
I pinched my ear. Julian came over and pressed his palm over my ear; calluses warmed my skin and, absurdly, muffled the scream. He took my hand. "Lily, let's go."
Grace clawed at her hair and throat like a madwoman, a spectacle of hysteria. I watched Julian's stone face and held back questions that wouldn't help.
On the drive back he didn't speak. He kept his lips tight and stared out the window—the light in his eyes black and hollow, somehow eerie.
I squeezed his hand and patted him. After a long time he gave a small, low laugh and wrapped his hand around mine. "Lily, you looked beautiful tonight."
I leaned my shoulder against his. "Julian, from now on I'll be with you every day."
"Really? And how will you be with me?"
He watched me like something delicious. "With your body?"
I pressed my lips together and looped my arms around his neck. "Julian, you can show me your weakness and your tears. I want to be the one that's special to you."
The bodyguard thoughtfully raised a partition between the front and back seats. Julian hesitated, then slid an arm around my waist. His chin rested on my shoulder and it stung a little.
"Lily," his voice hoarse, "I only have you."
Because his dress was backless, I felt the hot wet on his skin before I saw the drop fall. When Julian cried, it hit me like a physical blow. My own eyes blurred.
We got back to the villa around eleven. We hadn't eaten at the party; my stomach grumbled. He arched one brow and I rubbed my belly shyly.
He shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, heading toward the kitchen. "Want noodles?"
"You can cook?"
He smiled lazy and proud. "Five-star level."
He actually could cook. I finished two bowls and wanted more, but my stomach said no. Reluctantly I put my bowl down.
He teased, "Think our family will make it big because of you?"
I gave him a blank look.
"Well," he said, "raising pigs can make you rich."
…I'll let him have that one today.
"Want to shower together, Lily?" he said, eyes half-mischievous.
I clutched my chest. "No. I refuse."
He didn't press it. He went upstairs with a swagger.
I flicked on the TV while he showered. The news was on. After we left, Old Mr. Chase had been hospitalized with a heart attack and taken to Harborview Medical Center. Grace had been taken away by the police. The once-grand hall looked wrecked on the footage.
The camera lingered on Jamie, standing alone by the sofa, bewildered and small.
Why did the sins of one generation drag down the next?
I pressed my temple. That kid had lost his protector—falling from heaven to hell. How would he survive alone?
Long fingers covered my eyes. I laughed and leaned back, looping an arm around Julian's neck. "What are you doing?"
He snapped off the TV and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window without a word. I poured a glass of red and offered it to him like an apology. "I didn't expect the news to be this. Don't be angry."
He didn't take the glass. "Do you think the kid's pitiful?" he asked, brow furrowing, a chill in his gaze.
I sighed and slid my arms around his lean waist. "Yes, he's pitiful. But those six years never belonged to him, right?"
He softened slightly. "What about me? Do you think I'm excessive?"
I shook my head. "Julian, that's their karma. They made the cause; they'll reap it."
He was quiet a long while, then gently pushed me aside and gestured toward the lavender field in the yard. "This was my mother's favorite flower."
I gripped his hand, ready to listen quietly.
"That man," he said, "once promised that when he had money he'd buy a big estate and plant a garden full of lavender—a birthday present for my mom."
"In my memory, my mom rarely celebrated birthdays. We were poor. There were times we couldn't even eat. When I was eight, my family had no money for New Year's. Everyone else had feasts; we sat around the fire eating steamed buns soaked in hot water."
"Those buns were what my mom had sold that morning to make a little money."
"Lily, that was one of the few comforts I had."
"The man ended up with the big garden. My mother never saw a single lavender plant. Lily, did you know? When my mother died, her eyes never closed."
He swallowed hard. "Do you think she blamed me? Thought I killed her?"
"If I hadn't come back that day, I wouldn't have seen that scene. My mom wouldn't have had to protect me… Lily, tell me—why do the wicked always get to live?
My mother worked so hard and was kind her whole life, and in the end she died without peace."
"Gu Mei—what she did, all those awful things—and yet she lives so well. Why is that? Why do the good people have to die while the bad sleep soundly?"
Professor Julian's voice climbed higher and higher, veins throbbing at his temples. I forced the tears back and cupped his face in my hands, meeting his eyes.
"Julian, look at me. They will get what they deserve. Your mother worked hard for whom? For you. You did well. You avenged her. You put the man who hurt her in prison—she would be happy even in heaven."
Julian blinked, helpless, moisture clouding his gaze. His voice shrank until it was a sob. "I avenged her… but she still won't come back. She won't ever come back."
He collapsed to the floor, hollow and alone.
Underneath the armor, Julian was just an ordinary man—hurt, wronged, crying. I held his head in my hands, ache blooming in my chest. I had thought him invincible; I hadn't expected this fragile side.
Thank God I was the one who saw it. Thank God it happened in front of me.
I crouched down and wrapped my arms around his neck.
"Julian, I'm here. Lily's here with you."
He stayed quiet for a long time, then gradually steadied. His lips looked coolly pale—irresistible, in a way. On impulse, I lowered my head and brushed my tongue along his.
His pupils darkened and a slow, teasing smile curved his mouth. "Lily, I'll give you full credit for that class—will you marry me?"
It took me a few seconds to realize he was proposing.
I slapped at his face. He was quick and caught my hand, pouting. "Lily, do you want your husband to be disfigured?"
"I'm not bargaining credits for marriage, Professor. I'm not that kind of girl," I snapped.
He scanned me up and down and lifted one brow. "Also—a villa."
I blinked. He leaned in and kissed my ear, a little spark of electric warmth. "A dowry."
I sprang up, smoothed the bed and obediently knelt at the edge like some dramatic servant. "Your Grace, serving you is a blessing I've earned three lifetimes for."
Julian played along with a mock bow. "Then—attend me."
"Yes!"
"By the way," I said, "what did you whisper into Gu Mei's ear? She reacted so strongly."
He glanced at the TV casually. "The supplements she was taking? I swapped them for birth control pills."
My throat tightened. Cruel, but she deserved it.
He watched me, a grin in his eyes. "Aren't you going to shower? Want a shared bath?"
I ducked into the bathroom.
I dawdled in front of the mirror. The girl staring back had a slim waist and long legs—actually kind of pretty. I clapped quietly for myself. No wonder Julian liked me.
Julian's voice floated outside the glass door. "Lily, are you waiting for me to come in and invite you out?"
"I'll be right out."
I called. No clean clothes were in sight. "Julian, bring me something to wear."
Two minutes later I stood staring at a silk nightdress.
It was black, clingy and sculpted to every curve, spaghetti straps showing off my collarbones, clear lines at the waist and hips.
I rolled my eyes, debating whether to sock the smug man later. "Does it take you half an hour to put on a dress?" he asked.
I sighed, slipped on a robe and opened the door.
He stood there, lean and composed, leaning against the frame. He cocked an eyebrow. "Not flattering?"
"I think your taste is a little… risqué. You might faint from nosebleeds if you look too long," I teased.
He lifted a brow. "Why would I faint?"
"Because I'm all substance," I shot back. "You're just a flat plain."
I went for the sofa, but he clicked his tongue and with a tug the robe slipped off. I turned and clapped my hands over my chest.
His gaze went darker, he licked his lips and the smile in his eyes was wicked. "Huh. Didn't expect to be mistaken."
He strode over, scooped me up waist-high and tossed me onto the soft bedding, then peeled the robe away to reveal taut abs. Towering over me, his fingers deftly undid the clasp of my bra.
I froze, then grabbed his wandering hands.
He looked puzzled. My lips compressed. "Julian… I'm on my period."
Time seemed to stop. After a long beat, his mouth twitched and he swore under his breath. "Fuck."
Then he sighed softly and pulled me close. "What am I supposed to do with you?"
The next morning he was already dressed to go—necktie straight, bright-eyed. I barely peeled open one eyelid. "Where are you off to?"
"There's a lecture today. I have to go."
"Okay, hurry back then."
He kissed my forehead and left. I dozed, then a phone shrill tore me awake. My roommate shrieked like a banshee when I answered.
"Lily! Your man confessed to you in public!"
Huh?
I sat bolt upright, brain foggy. My man? Julian? In public?
Before I could ask, the call ended. A WeChat video pinged in with a string of exclamation marks from my roommate—your man is so handsome!!!
I opened the clip. It was the campus lecture. For some reason, media were there too.
Julian sat proper, wearing wire-rimmed glasses—priestly, respectable. I shivered when I remembered last night's depravity. Clothes do not equal virtue.
After his talk there was a Q&A. Eight out of ten questions were directed to him; he smiled and answered them all. The last girl stood up, crimson, and mustered courage.
"Professor, may I ask a personal question?"
"Sure," he said, pushing his glasses up.
"Do you… have a girlfriend?"
Silence swallowed the room. Julian paused a heartbeat. "No."
My heart dropped.
Then he leaned back, settled comfortably, and a lazy smile curled. "But I do have a fiancée."
The girl probed, unbelieving. "Is she… from our school?"
"My fiancée prefers to be low-key," Julian said. Then, with a feline lift of his brows and an utterly charmed smile: "But I'm showy. I want you all to know who she is."
"My fiancée—Lily Hart."
The room erupted.
Watching through my phone, my face burned. He had to be the most theatrical man alive.
"Lily, pick a sunlit day. We'll register our marriage."
He bent and whispered in my ear. I tightened my grip so hard my nails bit into him.
"Tomorrow. I checked the forecast—clear skies. A perfect day to register."
"Okay," I said, stroking his damp cheek.
He wouldn't have to walk this road alone anymore. Someone would be with him—always.
Epilogue: In Xavier's memory, he rarely saw Julian grow up with their family.
Hearing Julian would come back for his birthday, Xavier was excited. He didn't see his brother often, but he knew he had a brother who was impressive. Julian had been spoiled in some ways growing up, but he'd always seemed aloof with Xavier—sometimes not even sparing him a glance.
Xavier felt a little neglected. He was thrilled the week Julian was coming, but their mother frowned and warned him gravely, "Stay away from him. He thinks too much, he's too dangerous—one day he might hurt you and you won't even know."
"Why would he hurt me?" Xavier asked.
"Do you think Julian wouldn't be tempted by the family fortune?" his mother said.
To be fair, Julian didn't covet it—but Gu Mei certainly did, and she tried several times to ruin him.
When he'd been hospitalized that time, Julian had thought it suspicious. He wasn't the sort to meddle, but the girl being bullied called him 'Professor Chase.' Out of principle he stepped in. Those attackers weren't ordinary—they were savage, like they wanted to kill. He kept a watchful eye and ordered an investigation. They found something: that girl didn't exist at the school; they were targeting him.
"Keep digging," he told them.
They traced it back to Gu Mei. Julian stormed home, but his father stopped him and said she wasn't there. Julian glanced at the closed second-floor door and just smiled.
Their father—unusually—offered Julian a cup of tea. It nearly killed him.
The road had too many twists. Julian pushed the accelerator, then realized the brakes had failed. The car sped on; he saw a two-meter-deep ditch ahead and steered for it. The car smashed through guardrails and hit a tree; the front crumpled. He was thrown forward, yanked back by the seatbelt—he felt his spine break and blacked out.
If Lily hadn't been there, he might have died.
Julian wasn't the type to submit quietly. Once he recovered, he investigated Gu Mei. The results were explosive: she had a lover, and Xavier wasn't even her son.
Professor Julian Chase looked at the DNA test results in his hand and let out a cold, humorless smile.
After Maya Turner got older, she started taking daily supplements. Julian had those supplements swapped for contraceptives behind her back, and he’d had Harborview Medical Center’s doctors quietly complicit, so no matter how hard Maya checked, she’d never find anything.
Julian’s little performance at the birthday party had staged everything perfectly: Maya in jail, the elder Mr. Chase in the hospital—revenge served. By rights Julian should have felt triumphant. Instead, he didn’t.
He saw Lily Hart standing alone in the hospital corridor, small and lonely, and something in his chest tightened—an uncomfortable, undefinable ache.
When Lily saw him she ran over. “Brother!”
Julian clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Don’t call me brother.”
Lily’s eyes reddened; she looked hurt.
Julian raised his gaze. “Say what you need to say.”
She wiped at her tears. “Does my mom… not want me anymore?”
Julian closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. How did he explain to this kid that Maya wasn’t his birth mother?
Lily went on, voice trembling, “Some people said I’m not going to be the heir of the Chase family anymore. Why?”
Julian opened his eyes and narrowed them. “Who told you that?”
Lily curled inward, voice tiny. “The people at home.”
Julian’s brow tightened. When had the household staff gotten the right to be so free with their opinions about the Chases?
He lowered his eyes to the obedient child standing there and felt an irrational annoyance. “If you don’t have anything to do, don’t bother me.”
Lily nodded obediently and walked toward the elder Mr. Chase’s room.
Julian stood quiet for a long time, then sighed in resignation and drove back to the old estate.
He arrived with a presence that silenced the servants—fear made their knees wobble. Everyone knew the eldest son’s temper was short.
Julian kicked up a leg on the couch, lazily leaning back, blowing on the tea he’d just brewed. “You all know your place. You know what to say and what not to say. Need me to teach you?”
The staff dropped to their knees and trembled. Julian arched a brow, smiling, but his words carried a real threat. “If any of you keep spreading nonsense about that brat, I won’t mind pulling her tongue out.”
When the old man woke, the hospital room was quiet; Lily was the only one there.
He’d fallen asleep at the bedside, her face still streaked with tears.
He breathed a low sigh and stared up at the ceiling.
He wasn’t her biological parent, but he’d raised this child. She was so sensible, so different from her mother. He’d even wondered if she took after the young man he’d once been—only to find she wasn’t blood-related at all.
A tear slid from the old man’s eye. He’d never imagined that, in the end, the person who would be with him was a stranger with no blood tie.
What a failure, he thought, and gave a bitter smile.
There were feelings there all the same. He’d legally adopted Lily and left half his estate to her, the other half to Julian.
He’d paid a lawyer handsomely, set up the guardianship for Lily, and promised that the half of the estate would be passed to Julian when he came of age.
After all that was done, he died quietly. Lily had gone to the bathroom for a moment; when she came back, the old man had already passed peacefully.
At the funeral Julian hadn’t planned to attend, but Lily had dragged him there.
Lily stood at the front, tears spilling silently.
Julian’s brow was tightly furrowed. As he left, he turned back to the gravesite and handed Lily a phone number, voice stiff. “Don’t call me unless it’s important.”
Lily was the first to call him. Julian was in the middle of work and the interruption annoyed him. “Who is this?”
Through the line Lily’s voice trembled with sobs. “Brother… it hurts.”
Julian slowly straightened, frowning. “Where are you?”
“At the alley outside the school.”
Julian would never have dreamed that schoolyard bullying could happen to his brother. He and Lily rushed over to find Lily curled up on the ground, all of him small and trembling.
Julian’s jaw tightened. He got Lily to the hospital; they said it was nothing serious—just surface injuries.
But Julian was furious.
His brother—his responsibility—would be beaten?
Lily slept for two days before waking. Lily had already pieced things together: the attackers were third-graders who had heard Lily might be rich and wanted to borrow money. Lily refused; then they beat him. They saw the necklace on Lily’s neck—the one left by the old man—and when Lily wouldn’t hand it over they roughed him up and took it.
Lily glanced back at Julian. “What do we do? You go or I go?”
Julian shrugged an eyebrow. “Third grade… a blow to civility.”
Lily clapped his hands excitedly. “Fine, Daddy will go.”
In the end Julian went. He gathered a group of first-year boys and taught those third-graders a lesson, watching as they paid for their arrogance. He retrieved the necklace and made sure to warn them: “Lily has someone backing him up.”
Those kids were scared out of their wits and promised never to bother Lily again.
Julian smiled, warm and almost gentle. “Don’t you dare pick on others ever again.”
When he returned the necklace, Lily’s eyes shone. “Brother, thank you.”
Julian waved it off. Lily stood and hugged his leg, rubbing against him. “You’re my hero!”
Julian froze, feeling awkward. “Hands off! Where do you think you’re rubbing, you little brat?”
Lily Hart laughed nearby, delighted.
Julian rubbed his temple at the sight of this worshipful little kid staring up at him. He squinted.
Maybe… having a little brother wasn’t so bad after all.
