PLEASURED BY MY ENEMY'S FATHER

Chapter 3 Challenging

By the end of my first week, I realized something important.

This place didn’t break people loudly. It did it quietly. In ways no one could prove.

I noticed Wallace Rachford before anyone told me his name. Not because he tried to stand out, but because he didn’t have to.

The room shifted when he walked in.

It was subtle. Almost unnoticeable. Conversations didn’t stop, but they changed. People became… more aware. Like something important had entered, and everyone adjusted without thinking.

That kind of power wasn’t taught. It was inherited. He walked in late. No apology. No explanation.

The professor didn’t even acknowledge it. That told me everything. I kept my eyes on my notes at first, but something pulled my attention back up.

Him.

His gaze swept across the room once. Then it stopped on me. It wasn’t curiosity, not even interest.

It felt like a decision. I held his gaze for a second… two, maybe. Then I looked away. That should’ve been the end of it.

It wasn’t.

I heard his name after class.

“Wallace Rachford.”

I didn’t turn, but I listened.

“He transferred late.”

“His family basically owns half the city.”

“And the university.”

That last part stayed with me.

It explained the silence earlier. I adjusted my bag and kept walking. Power. Just another form of it.

The first time he spoke to me, it wasn’t dramatic. It was small and calculated. I had just finished a quiz. I knew I did well… I always knew when I did well.

“Pass your papers forward,” the professor said.

I placed mine on top of the stack. Two seconds later… it was gone. Not passed.

Gone.

I frowned slightly, glancing around.

“Looking for something?”

I turned. He was sitting behind me, my paper in his hand.

Wallace.

For a second, everything else faded.

“Give it back,” I said.

His expression didn’t change. “You dropped it.”

“I didn’t.”

A pause.

Then he tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was something unfamiliar.

“Careful,” he said quietly. “You’re already drawing attention.”

“I don’t mind.”

That did something. Not much… but enough.

He handed the paper forward, but his eyes stayed on me.

“Let’s see how long that lasts.”

I didn’t think much of it at first. I should have.

The cafeteria incident was when it became real. I stood in line, mentally calculating like I always did.

Keep it simple. Keep it within budget. When it was my turn, the cashier hesitated.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Your account isn’t active.”

“That’s not possible,” I replied.

“It says here your access hasn’t been cleared yet.”

“It was cleared yesterday.”

She looked uncomfortable. “You might need to check with the registrar–”

A quiet chuckle came from behind me. I didn’t need to turn.

“System errors happen,” he said.

I faced him slowly. “You had something to do with this?”

His expression stayed neutral. “That’s a serious accusation.”

“Answer the question.”

He stepped closer, not enough to cross a line, but enough to make one.

“You should learn something early, Nyra,” he said, saying my name like he’d known it for years. “Not everything needs to be obvious to be effective.”

My jaw tightened. People were watching but pretending not to. Of course they were.

“I’ll fix it,” I said, turning away.

“Try to,” he replied.

It didn’t stop there. It never does.

One time we had a group work. The professor posted the assignments. I checked once. Twice.

My name wasn’t there. At first, I thought it was a mistake.

“Sir,” I said after class, approaching him. “I think I was skipped.”

He frowned, scanning his list. “That’s strange. You were originally assigned.”

“Originally?”

“Your group requested a change.”

“Why?”

“They said you weren’t responding.”

I felt something cold settle in my chest.

“I wasn’t contacted.”

He hesitated. “Well… the groups are finalized. You’ll need to do the project individually.”

Individually. This meant double the work. Same deadline.

“I understand,” I said.

“Unfortunate.”

I heard his voice again, behind me. I didn’t turn this time. I didn’t need to.

I gathered my things slowly, sliding my notebook into my bag like nothing had changed, even though everything had. My mind was already recalculating. Time. Workload. Strategy.

If I had to do it alone, then I’d do it better.

“Nyra.”

That made me pause.

Not because of how he said my name, but because he rarely repeated himself.

I turned this time.

Wallace stood a few steps away, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed like he had all the time in the world. Like this moment wasn’t important.

But it was. I could feel it.

“What?” I asked. No hesitation or softness.

His eyes studied me for a second longer than usual, like he was trying to understand something that didn’t fit.

Then he spoke. “Let’s make this easier for you.”

I almost laughed.

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” I asked. “Making things easier?”

His expression didn’t change. “You’re smart enough to know what’s happening.”

“I am.”

“Good,” he said. “Then you also know I can keep it going.”

I held his gaze. “I figured.”

A brief silence stretched between us… not awkward, just… measured.

Then he took a step closer.

“Or,” he continued, voice lowering slightly, “we can come to an agreement.”

There it was.

I tilted my head slightly. “I’m listening.”

Not because I was interested. But because I wanted to hear how far he’d go. His lips curved faintly… not a smile. Something sharper.

“I stop,” he said simply. “No more ‘accidents.’ No more complications.”

“And in return?”

His eyes darkened just a fraction. “You do what I say.”

I didn’t react.

“Be specific,” I said.

He didn’t hesitate.

“You stay where I put you,” he said. “You do what I ask. No questions. No resistance.”

A pause. Then, colder smile tugged his lips before I could even realize it.

“You make yourself useful.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. I stared at him for a second. Then I laughed. Not softly. Not politely. A real laugh.

It caught him off guard… I saw it. Just for a split second, something cracked in that controlled expression of his.

“You’re serious?” I asked, shaking my head slightly. “That’s your solution?”

His jaw tightened. “You should think carefully before you–”

“No,” I cut in. “You should think carefully.”

That surprised him more than the laugh.

“Do you hear yourself?” I continued, my voice calm but sharp. “You’re offering to stop ruining someone’s life… if they agree to become your slave?”

The word landed exactly where I wanted it to.

His eyes hardened. “Watch your tone.”

“Why?” I shot back. “Does it bother you when someone says it out loud?”

Silence followed. But not empty… tense.

“You think this is about power?” I resumed, stepping closer now, closing the distance he created. “That if you control everything around you, it proves something?”

His gaze locked onto mine, dangerous and cold.

“Careful, Nyra. I was trying to be nice to you.”

I smiled as his words laced with warning. But strangely, I did not feel frightened, even a bit.

“No,” I said quietly. “You’re the one who should be careful.”

That was new. Even to me. But I didn’t stop. Because I saw it now, clearer than before.

“This?” I gestured slightly between us. “This isn’t strength.” His expression didn’t change, but something underneath it did. “It’s pathetic.”

The word settled heavy and final.

“You’re making a poor girl’s life miserable,” I continued, my voice calm, almost thoughtful now. “Not just to show power… but to prove something to yourself.”

Still, he did not speak. He seemed to be flabbergasted with the words I was spouting now.

“Because you’re not happy.”

That hit. I knew it did. Not because he reacted loudly, but because he didn’t.

For the first time since I met him, Wallace Rachford had nothing to say. His silence wasn’t controlled anymore. It was… disrupted.

“You can have your games,” I added, stepping back slightly. “But don’t mistake them for strength.”

I picked up my bag. “And don’t mistake me for someone who’ll play along.”

For a second, neither of us moved. Then I turned and walked away. I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to, because I already knew that was the first time anyone had ever spoken to him like that.

And somehow… I knew it wouldn’t be the last.

Next day, the library used to feel safe, quiet, predictable and controlled.

I sat in my usual spot, notes spread out, mind focused. It was the one place where effort still meant something.

Or at least, I thought it did. A chair scraped across from me. I looked up and he was there.

Of course.

“You’re persistent,” he said, glancing at my notes.

“You’re repetitive,” I replied.

A faint smirk.

“I’m curious,” he continued. “How long do you think you can keep this up?”

“As long as I need to.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is for me.”

He leaned back slightly, studying me again.

“People like you usually break,” he said. “Not immediately. But eventually.”

I closed my notebook slowly.

“People like me don’t have the option to.”

That made him pause, just for a second. Then it was gone.

“Let’s test that,” he said quietly.

By the end of the week, it was no longer subtle.

Missed emails. Schedules that changed without notice. Opportunities that disappeared before I could reach them.

Nothing direct. Nothing I could prove. But enough.

Enough to isolate me. Enough to make everything harder. Enough to make me question things I never questioned before.

I noticed and I understood.

And I knew one thing for sure. This wasn’t random. This wasn’t misunderstanding. This was deliberate and it had a name.

Wallace Rachford.