PLEASURED BY MY ENEMY'S FATHER

Chapter 9 More Normal

“That’s excessive,” Wallace said, the edge in his voice returning. “You can’t be serious, Dad!”

“I am.”

“It wasn’t even–”

“Enough,” Wilthon cut in. Not loud nor aggressive. But absolute.

Wallace stopped again.

His chest rose slightly with restrained frustration, his gaze darkening… but he didn’t continue.

Because he knew better.

“You will learn discipline,” Wilthon said, his tone unwavering. “Not just in public, but in influence. If you cannot control how others act around you, then you do not deserve the position you think you hold.”

The words settled in, slow and heavy. Unavoidable.

Wallace exhaled sharply through his nose, looking away for a moment before forcing his expression back into something neutral.

“Understood,” he said.

Even if it wasn’t.

Wilthon studied him for a second longer. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

And just like that, the conversation was over.

Wallace stood there alone. Still and silent. Until the sound of his father’s footsteps disappeared completely.

And then, his composure cracked. Not outwardly. Not visibly enough for anyone passing by to notice.

But inside, something burned. Hot. Sharp. Relentless.

His hand curled slowly into a fist. Seventy percent. Public scrutiny. Restrictions.

All because of her.

Nyra Patterson.

His jaw tightened again, but this time, it wasn’t just anger. It was something more focused. More dangerous.

Because anger alone was reckless. But this? This was a calculation.

He replayed everything… her words, her expression, the way she stood in that room without backing down.

The way she looked at him like she wasn’t afraid of him. Like she didn’t need to be.

A slow breath left him.

“Fine,” he muttered under his breath.

If direct pressure didn’t work, then he would adjust. Because power wasn’t just about force.

It was about control, perception and position.

And Nyra?

She had just made herself visible. That meant she could be watched, studied and moved.

A thought formed, slowly and carefully. And then… a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched his lips.

He straightened his posture, the earlier frustration settling into something quieter, more cautious.

He wouldn’t touch her again. Not directly. Not in any way that could be traced back to him.

But that didn’t mean he was done. Not even close. Because if she wanted to play this game, then he would change the rules.

And this time, he would make sure she didn’t see it coming.

Nyra’s POV

The next day felt unsettling in its normalcy.

I noticed it the moment I stepped onto campus. There were no lingering stares that tried too hard to look casual, no hushed conversations cutting off as I passed, no deliberate bumps or careless laughter thrown in my direction.

It was quiet… too quiet, almost as if something had been abruptly erased. I walked along the pathway, my pace steady but cautious at first, half-expecting something to happen out of habit. But nothing did.

As I entered the building and made my way down the corridor, the absence of tension became more apparent. No one blocked my path. No one watched me with open disdain.

People moved around me the way they moved around everyone else… indifferent, preoccupied, ordinary.

It was such a simple thing, yet it felt unfamiliar in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

A faint smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it.

This was what I had wanted from the beginning. Not attention. Not conflict. Just the chance to exist here without constantly defending my place.

I reached my classroom without interruption and slipped into my seat, placing my bag down with a quiet exhale.

The room gradually filled with the usual noise… chairs scraping, low conversations, the occasional laugh.

A few students glanced at me, but their expressions held nothing sharp or intrusive. Just passing curiosity, the kind that didn’t linger long enough to matter.

For once, I didn’t feel like I had to brace myself.

After class, I stepped into the hallway, already planning my next lecture, when my phone buzzed in my hand. I glanced at the screen and felt something soften in my chest.

Lovena.

I answered immediately. “Hey.”

“Finally,” she said, her voice bright with relief. “I’ve been waiting for your break. How are you? You sounded exhausted the last time we talked.”

I leaned lightly against the wall, watching students pass by without paying me any particular attention. “I’m fine,” I said, keeping my tone even. “Just adjusting. The workload here is heavier than I expected.”

“That’s not surprising,” she replied with a small laugh. “You’re in one of the top universities. I’m still proud of you, you know.”

I smiled faintly. “Thank you.”

There was a brief pause before her voice softened. “Are they treating you well?”

The question lingered longer than it should have.

My grip on the phone tightened slightly, but I kept my expression neutral, my voice steady. “It’s fine here,” I said. “Everyone’s mostly focused on their own work. It’s not as intimidating as it seemed at first.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. Just not the whole truth.

Lovena exhaled, the tension in her voice easing. “That’s good. I was worried you might feel out of place.”

“I did,” I admitted, allowing a small hint of honesty to slip through. “But I’m getting used to it.”

I shifted my weight, watching a group of students walk past, laughing about something trivial… something that had nothing to do with survival or proving themselves.

“I just need to stay on top of my grades,” I added. “That’s what matters.”

“You always do,” she said without hesitation. “You didn’t come this far just to struggle now.”

A quiet laugh escaped me. “I know.”

And I did. That was the one thing I couldn’t afford to forget.

“How is everyone there?” I asked, steering the conversation away from myself.

“The same as always,” she said warmly. “The kids keep asking about you. And Sister Elena keeps reminding everyone that you better not forget us once you become successful.”

My smile deepened, something softer settling in my chest. “I won’t.”

“You better not,” she teased. “We’re all counting on you.”

I lowered my gaze slightly, the weight of her words grounding me more than anything else that morning.

“I know,” I said quietly.

And that was the truth I held onto.

When the call ended, I slipped my phone back into my bag and straightened, taking a moment to look around.

The hallway was still calm. Still uneventful. Still… normal.

For now, that was enough.

I didn’t need anything more today. No confrontations, no victories… just the space to keep going without interruption.

Because this quiet, steady rhythm, this fragile sense of normalcy, was everything I had worked for.

And I intended to hold onto it for as long as I could.

The calm of the day carried into the afternoon, almost convincing me that everything had settled into place.

My last class had just ended, and I was heading toward the main staircase when I saw him.

Wallace.

He was leaning casually against the wall near the corridor junction, as if he had been there for a while. The moment my eyes landed on him, instinct took over.

My shoulders stiffened slightly, my grip on my bag tightening just enough to prepare myself – for what, I wasn’t sure. Confrontation, most likely. Another attempt to corner me. Something sharp, something calculated.

I slowed, but I didn’t stop.

If he wanted to block my way again, I was ready this time.

But he didn’t move to obstruct me. Instead, as I drew closer, something unexpected happened.

He smiled.

Not the usual smirk I had come to associate with him… not that arrogant, mocking curve of his lips. This was… different. Subtle. Almost careful. And strangely enough, it looked genuine.

“Hi,” he said.

I stopped.

Not because I wanted to, but because that single word caught me off guard more than anything he had done before.

For a brief second, I just looked at him, trying to reconcile the person in front of me with everything I already knew.

“What do you want?” I asked, my tone flat. Straight to the point.

His expression didn’t shift much, but I noticed the slight exhale before he spoke again. “Can we talk?”

I shook my head immediately. “No.”

There was no hesitation in my answer.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

I adjusted my bag, ready to walk past him, but his voice followed, not louder, not forceful, just enough to stop me again.

“Nyra.”

I shouldn’t have paused. But I did. And that was enough.

“I’m sorry.”

The words settled between us, quiet but unmistakable.

I turned back slowly, studying him more carefully this time.

Sorry? From him?