PLEASURED BY MY ENEMY'S FATHER

Chapter 7 Dangerously Gorgeous

I was only a few steps away from my classroom when Wallace appeared. I didn’t hear him approach. I just… felt it.

That sudden shift in the air, like something heavy had settled right in front of me. And when I looked up, Wallace Rachford was already there.

Blocking my way.

One hand pressed against the wall beside him, his body angled just enough to make it clear I wasn’t passing unless he allowed it. His expression was darker than anything I had seen before… not the usual arrogance, not the casual cruelty.

This was different. This was anger that hadn’t been contained.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

“Withdraw it.”

His tone was low and controlled, but it wasn’t a request. It was a command.

I met his gaze without hesitation. “What are you talking about?” I asked, playing innocent.

“I am not playing with you, Nyra. Don’t make me lose my patience here!” he warned.

But instead of getting scared, I smiled. “Oh, Your Highness… I am so scared!” I mocked him.

His face turned darker and his jaw clenched harder. “Withdraw the complaint!”

“No.”

My answer was quick and firm.

His jaw tightened harder almost immediately, like he hadn’t expected that answer… or maybe he had, and it only made things worse.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he said.

I adjusted my bag slightly on my shoulder, keeping my tone even. “I’m not the one making it hard.”

“You filed a formal complaint,” he snapped, his voice dropping further. “Do you understand what that does? Who it involves?”

“I do.”

“Then withdraw it.”

There was a brief pause.

I tilted my head slightly, studying him more carefully now. Not just his words—but what was behind them.

The tension in his posture. The way his eyes flickered, just for a second, like something deeper was pushing through.

And then it clicked.

“You don’t want your father here,” I said. “Or your mother?”

The reaction was immediate, even if he tried to hide it.

“That’s not your concern,” he replied sharply.

“It is,” I replied, with my calm voice, “when you’re asking me to fix something you started.”

“I didn’t start anything.”

The denial came too fast. Too clean.

I almost smiled… not because it was funny, but because it confirmed everything.

“Really?” I stated quietly. “So those students just decided, on their own, to pour something on me? To make sure that I’ll miss my class?! To ruin my things?”

I took a step closer. I wasn’t scared. Not anymore.

“They did it because of you.”

His expression hardened. “You’re assuming too much.”

“No,” I expressed, meeting his eyes directly. “I’m finally paying attention.”

Silence stretched between us. Heavy and truly uncomfortable.

“You made me a target,” I continued without hesitation, looking straight to his eyes. “Whether you told them directly or not doesn’t matter. They were trying to impress you. Stay on your good side.” I paused, just briefly. “And you let it happen.”

This time, he didn’t answer right away. No immediate denial. No sharp comeback.

And that silence?

That told me everything I needed to know.

I exhaled slowly, feeling something settled inside me… something firm. Final.

“So, no,” I said. “I’m not withdrawing anything.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“Maybe not,” I admitted. “But I know what I’m not doing anymore.”

I stepped closer again, closing the distance between us completely.

“I’m not staying quiet just to make things easier for you.”

For a second, it looked like he might argue again. Push harder. Say something worse.

But he didn’t. He just stared at me. Like he was trying to figure something out.

“You really don’t back down,” he muttered.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to.

After a long, tense moment, he moved.

Just slightly. Just enough to clear my path. Not willingly or easily. But he moved.

And that was enough.

I walked past him without looking back, my steps steady even as I felt his presence linger behind me.

I didn’t slow down. I didn’t hesitate. Because for the first time since I stepped into this place, I wasn’t the one being cornered anymore.

And somehow… that seemed to bother Wallace Rachford more than anything else.

Later that day, the conference room was colder than I expected. Not because of the air conditioning, but because of the atmosphere.

Everything about it felt controlled, polished and serious.

A long rectangular table sat at the center, with chairs arranged on both sides. At the far end were the university officials… the Dean of Student Affairs, a legal consultant, and two staff members quietly organizing documents. A small recording device sat in the middle of the table.

Documented. Official. Final.

I stood just outside the door for a second before stepping in, my fingers tightening slightly around the strap of my bag.

This was it. Everyone was already there. The three girls and the two boys.

Their parents seated beside them, dressed sharply, carrying the kind of presence that came from influence and money. Low murmurs filled the room… controlled, but tensed.

And then… my eyes found him.

Wallace.

He sat near the center, his posture straight, his expression unreadable at first glance. But I could see it… the tightness in his jaw, the slight tension in his shoulders.

He is furious. And something else… nervous.

That alone told me everything had gone further than he expected.

When I entered, a few heads turned. Some curious. Some judgmental. Some were already defensive.

I ignored all of it and took the seat assigned to me.

Alone.

“Good morning,” the Dean began, her voice composed but authoritative. “This is a formal disciplinary hearing regarding a reported incident of harassment and misconduct on campus premises.”

Her gaze moved across the room briefly before settling.

“This session is being documented. All parties are expected to speak truthfully and respectfully.”

She paused for a bit.

“We will begin shortly.”

The door opened again. And the room changed. It wasn’t loud. There was no dramatic sound.

But the shift was immediate and heavy.

Every conversation stopped. Every movement stilled. I didn’t know who it was yet… but I felt it before I saw him.

Then I turned. And everything narrowed for a second.

Wilthon Rachford.

I didn’t need an introduction to know. The resemblance was there… but sharper, stronger and more refined.

If Wallace carried arrogance, this man carried authority, dominance and dangerous charm.

He walked in like the room already belonged to him… not in an obvious way, not loud or demanding, but in something quieter, restrained and absolute.

He is tall, broad-shouldered, every movement was cautious. His presence alone made the space feel smaller.

And his eyes… dark, intense, scanning the room once before settling briefly on Wallace.

Then, they moved. And for a split second, they met mine. Something unfamiliar flickered in my chest.

Not fear. Not exactly. Something heavier, so I looked away first.

I could not understand why my heart was thumping so loud that I could almost hear it. What’s with that gaze that’s making me nervous… am I nervous?

“Mr. Rachford,” the Dean acknowledged politely. “Thank you for attending on short notice.”

“Of course,” he replied, his voice deep and even. “I was informed this matter involves my son.”

No excuses. No immediate defense. Just presence.

He took his seat beside Wallace. And just like that, the tension doubled.

The Dean straightened slightly. “We will now proceed.”

She turned to me.

“Miss Patterson, as the reporting party, you may begin. Please state your account of the incident.”

For a very short moment, my mind went blank, and even if I was not looking at Mr. Wilthon, I could feel him staring at me. And that gave me a real weird vibe. s**t!