Everything
1057 Words
Friday morning, Elena found an email in her spam folder.
Subject: We need to talk
Attachment: IMG_8472.jpg
She opened it in the library bathroom stall because she couldn’t risk anyone seeing her face.
It was a photo. Her, leaving Dr. Cole’s office Thursday night. Her hand on the doorframe, his silhouette behind her in the doorway. The timestamp said 8:47 PM. Office hours ended at 6:00 PM. Two hours was all it took for someone to notice.
The message below it read:
Nice office hours. Dean would love this. $7000 by Monday, or it goes public. And I’ll send a copy to his fiancée.
Marcus Vance. Junior. Known for cheating on exams and getting away with it because his dad donated to the engineering building. Known for picking targets he thought wouldn’t fight back.
Her hands shook so bad she dropped her phone. It hit the tile with a crack.
She didn’t go to class. She went to Dr. Cole’s office instead. He wasn’t there. His 9 AM class had started 10 minutes ago. She waited outside in the hallway, pacing, until he saw her through the glass door and his expression changed instantly.
He dismissed class 15 minutes early. Students looked confused, but no one argued.
“My office. Now,” he said, voice low enough that only she heard.
He didn’t ask what was wrong when she got inside. He saw her face and knew.
“Show me,” he said.
She showed him the photo and the email. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look surprised. Like he’d been expecting this. Like he’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop since Thursday night.
“Who?” he asked, though his voice said he already knew.
“Marcus Vance. He wants money. He says if I don’t pay, he sends it to the Dean and to your fiancée.”
Dr. Cole closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, the professor was gone. It was just Adrian. Tired, angry, and cornered.
“I’m not paying him,” he said. “It only gets worse. He’ll ask for more next week.”
“Then he sends this to the Dean,” Elena said, voice shaking. “We both get fired. Expelled. Everything’s gone.”
“Not if we get ahead of it,” he said. “I’ll talk to the Dean myself. Explain it was a student seeking help after hours. That’s all it was.”
“And if he doesn’t believe you?”
“Then we tell the truth,” Adrian said. “That nothing happened. That nothing can happen.”
Nothing had happened.
But the way he said it made it sound like he wished something had.
He reached out, then stopped himself, hand hovering in the air before dropping back to his side. His knuckles were white.
“Stay away from Marcus,” he said. “Don’t reply. Don’t meet him. Let me handle this.”
Elena nodded, but her stomach was in knots. Thursday night replayed in her head. The way his hand stayed on hers for a second too long. The way he said her name like it hurt him to say it. If the Dean saw that photo without context, “nothing happened” wouldn’t matter.
As she left, her phone buzzed in her pocket. Another message from Marcus:
Last chance. 48 hours. He looks scared. I like it.
She didn’t reply. She couldn’t breathe.
She walked straight to the library and holed up in a study room. For two hours she tried to work on problem set seven, but the numbers wouldn’t stay still on the page. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the photo. Saw his hand near hers. Saw the word “expelled” in her head.
At 1 PM, her phone rang. Unknown number.
She answered.
“Elena,” Adrian’s voice came through, rougher than usual. “Meet me. Not at the office. Coffee shop on 4th. 2 PM. Alone.”
She hung up without answering. But at 1:58 PM, she was sitting in the back corner of Brew & Bean, staring at the door.
He walked in at exactly 2:00 PM. No suit today. Just a gray sweater and dark jeans. He looked like a regular person, not a professor. It made it worse.
“You shouldn’t have come,” he said, sliding into the seat across from her.
“You told me to.”
“I told you to stay safe.”
He set a manila envelope on the table and pushed it toward her.
“What’s this?”
“Evidence. Emails between me and the Dean from last night. I told him about the blackmail. He’s agreed to a formal meeting Monday. No punishment if we’re honest.”
Elena opened the envelope with shaking hands. The emails were real. His words were careful, professional, but there was a line at the bottom that wasn’t:
Ms. Rivera is one of the most dedicated students I’ve had. I will not let her academic future be used as leverage.
She looked up at him.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because it’s the right thing,” he said. But his eyes didn’t match his voice.
The bell above the door rang, and Marcus walked in.
“Look at that,” he said, loud enough for two tables to hear. “The professor and his favorite student. Alone. After hours. Again.”
Adrian stood up fast, putting himself between Marcus and Elena.
“Leave,” he said quietly.
“Or what?” Marcus grinned. “You gonna hit me? That’ll look great for the Dean.”
Elena stood up too, her chair scraping against the floor.
“It stops now, Marcus,” she said. Her voice didn’t shake. “I’m going to the Dean Monday. With or without you. And I’ve saved every message you sent me.”
Marcus’s grin faltered for half a second.
“We’ll see,” he said, then walked out.
The coffee shop went quiet.
Adrian sat back down slowly, like his legs had given out.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded. But her hands were still shaking.
“Monday,” she said. “We tell them everything.”
He nodded.
“Everything,” he agreed.
Outside, it had started to rain again.
- Writer
