The first time I realized my life had truly fallen apart was not when the hospital called to tell me my mother had collapsed, but when I found myself standing outside my professor's office at ten thirty at night, clutching a marriage contract in my trembling hands. Professor Adrian Blackwood looked up from behind his desk when I entered, his expression calm and unreadable, the same distant composure he wore in the lecture hall. He was tall, impeccably dressed, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, veins faintly visible beneath his skin. He was not supposed to look like this to me. He was not supposed to be the man I would beg tonight. "Miss Moore," he said as he stood slowly, his voice firm and professional, "this meeting is inappropriate." I swallowed hard and nodded. "I know." My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. The office smelled of coffee and old books, the walls lined with law journals, awards, and certificates that reminded me how far above my world his life existed. "I wouldn't be here if I had another choice," I said quietly. His eyes sharpened. "You always have a choice." I laughed, the sound hollow and broken. "Not when the alternative is death." That finally made him pause.
Earlier that evening, the hospital had called while I was working my part-time shift at the café, their words sharp and merciless. My mother's condition had worsened. She needed surgery immediately. The deposit had to be paid within forty-eight hours. The amount they mentioned might as well have been a death sentence. I barely earned enough to cover rent and tuition. My father had vanished years ago, and there was no miracle waiting to save us. Except one man. Professor Adrian Blackwood. A man whose name carried weight in the legal world, whose family was whispered about with awe, and who had made me an offer weeks ago that I had angrily rejected. Now, I had come back with my pride crushed. "I told you before," he said quietly, folding his arms, "I don't exploit students." "This isn't exploitation," I replied quickly. "This is a transaction." I placed the document on his desk, my hands shaking. "A marriage contract," I said. "One year. No emotional involvement. No public disclosure. After one year, we divorce." His jaw tightened. "You don't understand what you're asking." "I understand perfectly," I said. "I get married. My mother gets surgery. You get what you need." His eyes darkened slightly. "What I wanted was to help you without crossing a line." I clenched my fists. "You said your family would only release the funds if you were married." Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. It was the truth. His family was obsessed with reputation, and as the eldest son, unmarried at thirty-five, he was under constant pressure. A contract marriage would silence them. "I won't touch you," he said finally. "I won't claim any marital rights. You will continue your studies unaffected." I smiled bitterly. "People don't gossip because something is true. They gossip because it looks true." He didn't deny it. "Once we sign," he added, "there is no turning back." I stared at the document, my hands trembling but my mind terrifyingly calm. "I'm ready."
The civil marriage office was nearly empty at midnight. I stood beside him in a simple dress, my hair tied back carelessly, feeling as though I were watching someone else's life unfold. When the official asked if I took this man as my husband, I answered yes without hesitation, my voice echoing in the small room. Professor Blackwood hesitated for just a second before answering yes as well. When the ring slid onto my finger, my chest tightened painfully. I had just married my professor. That night, we returned to his apartment, not as lovers or even as friends. He showed me the guest room and left without another word. I lay awake staring at the ceiling, my thoughts spiraling. This was wrong. This was forbidden. This would destroy us. Yet somewhere deep inside me, something fragile and foolish stirred.
The next morning, reality hit with brutal force. I sat in the lecture hall, my wedding ring hidden beneath my sleeve, my heart pounding as Professor Blackwood walked in. He didn't look at me once. "Good morning," he said coolly, as if nothing had happened. As he lectured, a terrifying truth settled into my bones. In the eyes of the law, I was his wife. In the eyes of the world, I was just another student. And if anyone found out the truth, it would ruin his career and completely destroy me. "Miss Moore," he said suddenly. My head snapped up. "Yes, Professor?" His gaze met mine for the briefest second, cold and controlled. "Please stay after class." Whispers erupted around me, and my stomach dropped. In that moment, I knew this marriage would not stay secret for long, and when it came to light, everything would burn.