The Billionaire Professor's Captive

A SECRET DAUGHTER

Earl

I sat at the head of the table, watching as the last of the students filed in. Meredith was the only one already seated, her laptop open, fingers absentmindedly toying with a loose strand of hair.

She wasn’t the only student here. She wasn’t supposed to be the only one I noticed. And yet, as the room settled, my attention kept pulling back to her.

I pushed the thought aside. "Let’s begin." The chatter died instantly and I leaned forward, lacing my fingers together. "For those of you who don’t know me outside of class, I’m Professor Sherwood. I’ll be overseeing this year’s Cybersecurity Research Initiative. You were chosen because you either applied and met the requirements or because I personally selected you."

At this, my gaze shifted, for just a second, toward Meredith. She sat straighter, as if she could feel my eyes on her.

"Since we’ll be working together, I want names. We’ll start on my right."

A boy with dark-rimmed glasses and an easy smirk leaned back in his chair. "Sony Marshall. Data encryption is my game."

Next was a tall, broad-shouldered student with shaggy brown hair. "Dan O’Connell. I’m more into penetration testing and system vulnerabilities."

Beside him, a shorter, wiry-looking guy with restless hands grinned. "Ricky Chapman. I like breaking things just to see if I can put them back together."

Leo Santiago was next. A serious, dark-eyed boy in his early twenties judging by his looks, already analyzing everyone in the room. "Reverse engineering, cryptography, network security."

Angie Patel followed. She adjusted her glasses, speaking in a no-nonsense tone. "AI-driven security protocols and ethical hacking."

Meredith went last, her voice a fraction softer than the others. "Meredith Keeler. Cybersecurity and artificial intelligence."

Ava cleared her throat, flipping her hair back. "Ava Reynolds. Social engineering and network security. Also, I look forward to proving myself here."

I didn’t acknowledge the underlying challenge in her voice. Instead, I stood and crossed my arms.

"The CRI is not a regular class," I said, letting my voice carry. "It’s a test. A continuous one. Some of you will fail, some of you will quit, and the rest of you will prove that you belong here."

A few students shifted in their seats. Good.

"You will work in teams, but your individual progress is what I’ll be evaluating. This is not about memorizing security measures or writing perfect code." I met each of their gazes in turn. "This is about thinking like a threat. Acting before an attack happens. Understanding weaknesses before they can be exploited. If that’s too much for you, leave now."

No one moved. Not yet, at least. "Good. Looks like I'll be handling smart students. Better prove me right."

The lecture went smoothly. Well, at first.

I was halfway through explaining advanced cryptographic hashing functions when two of the male students, Sony and Ricky, began murmuring to each other.

Low snickers. Suppressed grins. Disrespect. I let it go at first. But then their laughter and snickers got even louder.

"Care to share what you and shaggy hair were discussing with the class?" I turned to face them.

"Guess that’s what you’d call… a real password-protected conversation," Ricky said, smirking.

Sony snorted. "Too bad some people have zero encryption up there. They wouldn't get the joke." He tapped his head.

A few students laughed. Meredith, however, wasn’t amused.

She turned toward them. "That analogy doesn’t even make sense," she said flatly. "You meant ‘firewall’ not ‘encryption.’ Encryption protects data. Firewalls control access."

Sony blinked. Then his smirk returned. "Oh, so we have a grammar police for nerds now?"

Ricky grinned, nudging Dan. "Didn’t know we had a human debugger in class." More laughter. My fingers curled. I didn’t give a damn about their childish humor, but I did give a damn about order.

And right now, they were testing me. I stepped forward, slow, deliberate. The laughter faded. Sony noticed me first, his grin faltering.

"You think this is funny?" I asked, my voice low, edged with warning.

Neither answered. I held their gaze, letting the silence stretch until discomfort settled in the room.

Then, coldly, I said, "Next time you waste my time with childish jokes, I’ll personally ensure your academic careers are a laughing matter."

Sony swallowed and Ricky went pale.

"Understood?" I asked. A stiff nod.

"Good."

But before I could move on, Ava let out a tiny, amused breath.

"Well, they’re not right," she said, tilting her head toward Meredith. "But they’re not wrong either."

Meredith stiffened.

"If she can’t stand up for herself," Ava continued, her tone casual, "maybe the CRI isn’t a good fit for her."

I turned slowly. The room went silent. I met Ava’s gaze, my expression blank.

Then I said, "Since when do you make the rules here, Reynolds?"

Ava, to her credit, kept her face neutral. But I saw the way her fingers curled slightly on the table. She had been waiting for a moment to show dominance, but she chose the wrong day.

I had just reminded her who the real authority was, and if she was smart enough, she would steer clear.

By the time I was done, it was nighttime, and the students began to leave one by one. I stayed behind, checking my notes, preparing to leave. I expected to be alone.

But when I looked up, Meredith was still there, her bag falling over her shoulder. She began to turn around the table to approach me.

The room was dim, the overhead lights doing little to illuminate her face. But I could still see the outline of her jaw, the colour of her eyes boring into my skin and her lips calling to me as she constantly bit them.

She hesitated, then stepped closer. Too close.

I went still when I felt the heat of her body press against mine. I should not be feeling this way about a student, especially since it could potentially ruin all that I've worked for for twelve years. But I couldn't blame my body for working against my brain.

Her head tilted slightly, and for the first time since I met her, she looked at me without fear.

Her eyes were bright, filled with something unspoken. Something dangerous. As if she knew what she was doing to me.

"Thank you," she murmured.

I frowned, suddenly taken aback. "For what?"

"For standing up for me."

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because for the first time in years, I felt off-balance. I had meant to put her in uncomfortable situations. I had meant to see how she handled herself. I hadn’t meant for her to look at me like I was her goddamn saviour.

The way she was standing was too close, her scent drifting up to me, something soft and infuriatingly intoxicating. It would be easy for me to lean in and do something crazy to her. But she was too short, her neck craning too much to even look me in the eye.

The way she was looking up at me, grateful, hesitant, just enough trust in her gaze to make something dangerous stir in my gut.

I had to move. I had to get out of here, so I stepped back. Her breath hitched, just slightly.

Then, voice low, controlled, I said, "I’m just doing my job."

She swallowed, blinking rapidly. And before she could say anything else, I turned and walked away.

Because if I didn’t leave now, I wasn’t sure I would.

The drive home was quiet. No music, nothing. Just me and my thoughts. The city blurred past me, a mess of flashing lights and shifting shadows, but my mind was elsewhere.

Stuck in that damn hall. Stuck on the way she had stood too close. The way her voice had softened when she said, "Thank you." The way my own body had tensed not with discomfort but with something far, far worse.

I shouldn’t have let it get that far. I should have stepped back the moment she moved closer. I should have shut it down before I could feel the warmth of her skin just inches from mine.

But I hadn’t. And I hated that.

By the time I reached home, my thoughts were still filled with her. I poured myself a drink, settling onto the leather couch in my living room. A big empty place I'd learn to call my home. I had barely taken a sip when my phone vibrated against the table.

I checked the screen. The caller ID read Reese. I exhaled slowly before answering. "I haven’t forgotten about your party."

A chuckle came from the other end. "Good. Thought you were going to bury yourself in work and miss out."

Work. If only he knew. "How else am I going to earn if I don't work?"

Reese’s voice carried through the line, casual, unbothered. "You haven’t been drinking too much, have you?"

I glanced at my whiskey. "Define too much."

Another laugh. "Still the same." A pause. "See you at the party tomorrow, Earl."

I hesitated. The question was there. Right on the tip of my tongue. "Do you have a daughter?"

But I swallowed it back. Because if Reese did have a daughter and he had kept her hidden for years, then asking now would only put his guard up.

And I needed to be absolutely sure. Instead, I said, "See you then."

I hung up, tossing the phone onto the table. Then I sat there, staring at the ice swirling in my glass, my thoughts unravelling. If Reese had a child, why hadn’t I heard about her before?

Why had there been no mention of a daughter in all the years I had known him?

And more importantly, why hadn’t she shown up in any of my investigations?

I had gone through everything. Every trace of his business, his past, his assets. Not once had the name Meredith Keeler appear.

Yet here she was, sitting in my classroom and wearing my patience thin. Tempting me in ways I hadn’t been tempted in years. I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she wasn’t his.

Or maybe Reese was better at keeping secrets than I thought. Either way, I intended to find out. And I hoped my head would be in the game better than all I've been doing since I met her.

I should have let it go. I should have shut it all out, the curiosity, the irritation, the way my body had reacted when she pressed too close. Her scent was soft and distracting. The warmth of her body was so close that I could have—

I exhaled sharply, tilting my head back against the couch. Enough. I wasn’t going to be some reckless man acting on impulse. I wasn’t weak. And she was only a young woman with a future. I had no business thinking about her like that. Not when I wasn’t looking for love. Not when I wasn’t looking for anything at all.

Commitment? I had left that behind years ago. Love? I had tried that once. And she had disappeared a week before the wedding.

That’s when she left. No warning. No explanation. Just gone. One day, she was beside me, laughing, touching me, talking about the future. The next, her number was disconnected. Her apartment emptied. Her existence erased like she had never been real at all.

I had searched. I had turned over every stone, but there was nothing. No clues. No traces. Just a ghost where a person had once been. And if she was dead? If something had happened to her? Then, whoever took her had hidden her well.

I didn’t believe in fate. Didn’t believe in the universe handing out second chances. But sometimes—just sometimes—I wondered.

And then I reminded myself that I wasn’t a boy anymore. I had stopped wondering a long time ago.

At some point, I must have dozed off. The whiskey sat untouched on the table, the sky's glow spilling faintly through the windows.

Then, my phone vibrated. Persistently. I blinked awake, frowning as I grabbed it. The number was one I recognized. The head of school management.

I sat up immediately. A call from him this early in the morning? That couldn’t be good.

I answered. "Sherwood."

A tense voice came through the line. "Professor, we need you to come in. It’s urgent."

I didn’t ask questions. Didn’t hesitate. Because I already had a feeling that whatever this was wasn't good.