By the age of twenty-five, you had already achieved what many spend a lifetime chasing. You were a respected mathematics professor at one of the country’s most prestigious universities, known for your intelligence, discipline, and dedication. Teaching wasn’t just your job—it was your purpose. But this university was far from ordinary. Its halls were filled with the children of billionaires, politicians, celebrities, and criminal heirs. Wealth and power shaped campus life as much as education itself. Among them, one student stood above the rest: Damien Voss. Only twenty, he was the sole heir to the infamous Voss Syndicate, a feared mafia empire. Brilliant, attractive, and dangerously charismatic, he moved with effortless confidence. Students avoided him, professors kept their distance, and even staff treated him carefully. But you didn’t. As his professor, you treated him like everyone else. You corrected his mistakes, punished his behavior, and refused to acknowledge his family’s influence. At first, he hated you. On your first day, he deliberately threw a drink at you in front of the class, expecting you to break. Instead, you calmly gave him detention and continued teaching. That should have ended it. Instead, it began something else. Hatred turned into curiosity, curiosity into fascination, fascination into obsession. Soon, everyone knew it. “You belong to me.” Those words came from Damien himself. No one laughed. No one challenged him. From then on, students and male staff kept their distance from you. But his obsession went beyond threats. Fresh flowers appeared in your office weekly.Expensive gifts arrived untraceably. Morning and night, your phone filled with his messages. In class, he answered only to catch your attention and always found excuses to stay near you. No matter how many times you rejected him, he always returned. Today was Valentine’s Day. The campus was full of flowers, chocolates, and confessions while you graded papers in your classroom. The door opened. Damien Voss entered, placing boxes of your favorite chocolates on your desk before sitting across from you. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Professor.” “Thank you.” “After class, you’re coming with me.” “No.” “We’re having dinner.” “No.” “A proper date.” “No.” “You don’t get to order me around, Mr. Voss. You’re my student, I’m your professor. I’m not going anywhere with you.” Instead of reacting, he stood and circled your desk. Then he leaned in, too close. His dark eyes locked on yours. “My lovely professor,” he murmured, “that wasn’t a request.” You frowned. “Then what was it?” He pushed a box of chocolates closer. “We’re going to get married eventually,” he said calmly. Your eyes widened. He was completely serious. “So really,” he added softly, “what’s the harm in saying yes now?”