The Billionaire Professor's Captive

SPECIAL TREATMENT

Meredith

It was supposed to be a quiet weekend for me. A Saturday to visit the school library and maybe get some groceries. That was before I got a message from the school board.

"Why is the board sending me a message?" I asked out loud.

Skye turned around, a cup of ice cream in hand and a confused look lacing her face. "The board? What did they say?"

I turned over the phone to her so she could see. My heart was beating fast but I tried to hold my hands steady. If the board was asking to see me, why would it be today of all days?

Was it because they saw me with Professor Earl the evening before? Had they seen me flirting with him at the club? Did something happen with my application? I knew it. I knew the fast acceptance was a glitch and I'd been stupid enough to think I was good enough for Sonnydale to give me admission in less than an hour.

"You should go." Skye said after a few moments of silence. "Go find out what it is before you die trying to think about it."

I went back inside, took a shower to freshen up, wore a blue baggy shirt and flared pants. I wore my hair up because I didn't have the time to style it and I was done. I rushed over to where the meeting was supposed to take place. With a little prayer in my heart, I knocked on the door.

"Come in, Miss. Keeler." A male voice gruff with authority answered from inside.

The meeting hall felt too big. Like the walls had stretched wider, the ceiling had lifted higher, making me feel small. The lighting was too bright, too clinical, washing everything in a stark white glow. A long, executive table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by high-backed chairs. The air smelled of leather and paperwork, filled with the scent of expensive cologne and something impersonal.

Seated around the table were the people who held my future in their hands. At the head of the table sat Mr. Sheldon, the head of the board, his steely gray eyes scanning a file in front of him. To his right was Ava Reynolds. And beside her were people I guessed to be her mother and father. I could tell from their exquisite choice of outfits, bleached hair and smug expressions they shared with their daughter.

"I believe you already know Ava Reynolds, either in general class or...the CRI." Mr. Sheldon started to say. "These are her parents. Mr. Jonathan and Lilian Reynolds."

I could tell what kind of people they were. Prestigious. Wealthy. The kind of people whose power wasn’t just about money, but about who they knew. And then, at the farthest end of the table, leaned back in his chair, was Earl. His face was void of expression. His posture relaxed, but not casual. He looked like he was waiting for the inevitable. The room was filled with a heavy air and tension.

I swallowed. This was bad.

"Please, have a seat, Miss. Keeler. Now that we’re all here," Mr. Sheldon began, folding his hands in front of him, "I’d like to address the concerns brought to my attention."

I took the only available seat beside Ava and I felt her shift beside me. Her mother reached over, giving her a reassuring squeeze on the hand before speaking.

"It has come to our attention," Lillian Reynolds said smoothly, "that Professor Sherwood has shown… partiality in his selection process." My heart lurched.

"My daughter," she continued, "has worked tirelessly to earn a place in the CRI. And yet, despite her qualifications, she was forced to prove herself through extra work, an additional layer of difficulty that was not imposed upon Miss Keeler."

A beat of silence. Then Earl exhaled, slow and deliberate.

He tilted his head slightly, resting an elbow on the armrest. His voice, when he spoke, was calm. Controlled. It did unspeakable things to me that I dared not say with words.

"And what exactly are you implying?"

Lillian smiled. It wasn’t kind. "I believe you know exactly what we’re implying, Professor."

A shift in the air. Something cold passed through me. I didn’t have to look at Ava to feel the smug energy radiating off her. But it was her father who delivered the final blow.

"It seems rather curious," Jonathan Reynolds said, adjusting his cufflinks, "that of all the students in your class, Miss Keeler was hand-selected by you, despite not even applying."

His gaze flickered in my direction.

"One might wonder if there is… more happening beneath the surface. It is not news to us that students sometimes have to plant their faces deep into the balls of their professors..."

"Language, Mr. Reynolds!" One of the board members who had been quiet from the start snapped. The words hit like a slap.

Heat coiled in my stomach. Not from shame. Not from embarrassment. From something much, much worse. The mere suggestion that I had sucked my professor to get a spot sent my mind spiraling into places it should not go. Beneath the surface. More happening. More.

I felt my core tighten, warmth pulsing through me like a slow, traitorous burn. Oh, God.

I clenched my fists beneath the table. Why now? Why here?

I forced myself to keep my expression neutral. But then, I made the mistake of looking at Earl and everything soured. Because there, on his face, was something unmistakable. Disgust. Not anger. Not irritation. Just cold, detached disgust.

Like the very thought of anything inappropriate between us was something repulsive. Something that shouldn’t even be imagined. Disappointment settled deep in my stomach. I didn’t want to feel it. I didn’t want to care. But it was there, sinking, spreading.

And I hated that it did. That stupid, awful, sinking feeling of disappointment. And it made me angry.

I clenched my hands beneath the table, my nails biting into my palm.

"More happening beneath the surface," Jonathan Reynolds had said.

I swallowed hard, forcing my expression into something neutral. And then Earl shifted, a straightening of his posture, a slow, measured glance toward the Reynolds family. His expression was icy, gaze controlled.

And when he finally spoke, his voice was like a blade cutting through silence.

"Are you suggesting that I make academic decisions based on personal relationships?"

His words were calm but deadly.

Jonathan cleared his throat. "We’re merely pointing out the unusual nature of your selection process."

Earl leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, fingers laced together.

"And yet, you’re implying something far less professional than that, aren’t you?"

Ava tensed beside her mother, her perfect mask slipping just slightly. Lillian’s lips pressed into a thin line while Jonathan hesitated.

And then, he said, "We simply find it concerning."

Earl exhaled through his nose, amused. "Concern is an interesting word." Then, with terrifying ease, he leaned back again, relaxing as if none of this mattered. "Let me make one thing very clear," he said smoothly, voice sharp enough to cut through steel.

"I have spent years maintaining my reputation. I have never crossed a line with a student, and I certainly don’t intend to start now."

My chest tightened.

"Meredith Keeler was selected because I saw potential in her work, not because of anything beyond the academic realm. If you believe otherwise, then I would encourage you to present proof rather than baseless insinuations."

A long, uncomfortable silence. No one moved. Ava’s fingers curled on the table, her lips pressing into something too tight to be a smirk. Lillian’s nails tapped against the wood, slow, thoughtful.

Jonathan glanced between them before clearing his throat. "That won’t be necessary."

Earl didn’t reply. He just stared and whatever Jonathan had been about to say next, he swallowed it down.

I should have felt relieved. I should have let the tension leave my body, knowing the conversation was over, but I didn’t. Because Earl hadn’t once looked at me. Not once. Like I wasn’t even in the room.

Like I wasn’t even worth acknowledging. I hated that. And I hated how badly it hurt.

The tension hadn’t even settled when Sheldon cleared his throat.

I felt my stomach tighten.

"Now," Sheldon began, folding his hands in front of him, "we have another matter to discuss."

The room shifted, everyone straightening just a little, waiting.

"As you know, the CRI has a strict selection process," he continued. "However, we have received a special request to reconsider one of the applicants who was not initially qualified."

Ava. Even before he said it, I felt her satisfaction pulse through the air like a thick perfume.

"Ava Reynolds," Sheldon announced. "Given her qualifications and dedication, the board has decided that she deserves a place in the initiative."

I stilled. Slowly, carefully, I turned my head toward Ava. She seemed more than satisfied.

"Of course," Sheldon continued, "since the CRI has a limited number of seats, we will need to make room for her."

A beat of silence. Then Jonathan Reynolds spoke. "Why not remove Meredith?"

The air left my lungs. Just like that, like I wasn’t sitting right there, like I wasn’t real. I expected Earl to cut in. To shut it down the way he had with their earlier accusations.

But he didn’t. He just sat there, still, silent and waiting. Finally, he exhaled through his nose. "I will make my decision on Monday."

Ava’s mother gave a polite and practised smile.

"A fair timeline," she murmured.

Sheldon nodded, gathering his papers before standing. "That will be all."

And just like that, the meeting was over. The board members stood, talking amongst themselves. Jonathan and Lillian exchanged quiet words before moving toward the door. Earl didn’t even glance at me as he strode out, his posture perfectly unaffected.

I hated that they had just discussed my fate like I was a piece of furniture, and the one person who could have said something—who should have said something—just… didn’t.

I exhaled sharply and pushed my chair back, standing to leave. But then, Ava stepped in front of me.

Ava folded her arms, tilting her head slightly. "Well," she said, her voice smooth, mockingly sweet. "That was… exciting."

I said nothing. She smiled, a slow curve lifting the corner of her lips.

"You know, I have to admit," she continued, pretending to sound thoughtful, "I almost feel bad for you."

I blinked. "You do?"

"Of course." A light laugh. "It must be hard knowing you were a special treatment candidate."

I clenched my jaw. "There was no special treatment."

She lifted a perfectly manicured hand, inspecting her nails. "Oh, I don’t know about that," she mused. "You didn’t even apply for the CRI. You didn’t even try. And yet, here you are. Just… handed a spot like a little lost puppy someone felt sorry for."

My fingers curled into fists. She took a step closer, lowering her voice. "Tell me, does it make you nervous?"

I exhaled slowly. "Does what make me nervous?"

Ava smirked. "Knowing that, come Monday, you might not even be here?"

I held her gaze. "Should it?" I asked.

Her smile widened. "I think so."

I forced a breath, keeping my expression blank. "You seem… confident," I said lightly. "Almost as if you think this decision is already made."

Ava shrugged. "Let’s just say I have a good feeling."

I tilted my head. "Or maybe you just can’t stand that I got something you wanted."

Her eyes darkened just slightly. But then she laughed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, please. It’s not about what you got. It’s about what you don’t deserve."

I clenched my teeth. Ava leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. "Girls like you don’t get to win, Meredith," she murmured. "You never do."

Something twisted inside me. But I didn’t let it show. I took a small step forward, just enough to make her shift back. Then I smiled.

"You know what I think?" I said softly.

Ava raised a brow.

I tilted my head. "I think you’re scared."

She let out a soft, amused scoff. "Of you?"

"No," I said smoothly. "Of the fact that even after all your efforts, even after everything your family has done to get you here, you could still fail."

Her expression faltered only for a second. I stepped past her, my shoulder brushing against hers as I moved toward the door.

Her voice followed behind me.

"Enjoy your weekend, Meredith."

I didn’t stop, I didn’t look back, and that was because I didn’t need to. Come Monday, I wasn’t going anywhere.