Chapter 17

Avery’s POV

The next morning felt heavier than most. No amount of black coffee could burn away the memory of the night: the tequila, the kiss in the shadows, and Professor Rose.

Her voice echoed in my head, sharp as a thunderclap: “I never knew the great Von Carter made out in such public, undignified parking lots.” 

Every time I replayed that sentence, my chest tightened with humiliation and resentment.

Was it judgment? Mockery? Or a move to assert control? By the time I strode onto campus, Elize and Victoria waited near the stone fountain.

Elize looked far too vibrant for someone who had downed half the bar’s vodka stock hours before. “Morning, sunshine,” she teased, tugging her sunglasses down her nose to peer at me. “So, how was your midnight escapade after you disappeared? Don’t think I didn’t notice the exit.”

I rolled my eyes, exhausted by the interrogation. “Drop it, Elize. It was nothing.”

Victoria, the sharper one, leaned in, her gaze calculating. “The Avery I know doesn’t disappear unless it’s for a controversial reason. Spill the details, now.”

I managed a tight smirk, masking the turmoil inside. “Some mysteries, Victoria, are better left unsolved. It keeps the legend alive.”

They groaned in unison, expressing their frustration, but I walked toward the lecture hall. Today was not about them. Today was about facing her.

The moment Ms. Rose entered the hall, the room shifted, the atmosphere thickening. As always, silence followed her like a custom-made cloak.

She walked with composure, heels clicking, notes clutched in hand, her expression unreadable. For me, everything felt magnified—the way her eyes scanned the room, the tilt of her chin, the curve of her lips that might have been a ghost of a smile or a threat.

She began teaching, her voice steady and precise. Today’s topic was ecosystems—how nature was connected, how a disruption could unravel an entire system.

Her words should have been academic, focused on rivers and forests. But to me, every syllable felt like a warning.

“One imbalance can destroy everything.” I shifted in my seat, trying to focus on the textbook open in front of me.

My mind stayed stuck on the parking lot, on the chilling way she had looked at me—like she had caught me in an unforgivable crime. Then, the blow landed.

“Some people,” Ms. Rose said, her voice calm but carrying an undertone of knowledge, “tend to live carelessly. They believe their reputation is untouchable, that they can do as they please without consequence.”

Her eyes flicked—a contact that lasted a fraction of a second, but felt like an eternity—to me. I stiffened, my grip tightening around my pen, bracing for the follow-up.

“But even the strongest, most meticulously built walls,” she continued, “can crack when struck at the right spot. And once cracked, it is hard to repair them to their original strength.”

The rest of the class scribbled notes, oblivious to the war waged above their heads. But I knew.

That entire pronouncement was for me. I leaned back in my chair, forcing a cocky smirk to hide the unease crawling in my chest.

When she looked away, moving on, I mouthed silently, exaggerating the words: Chasing me, Professor? Her lips twitched—a minimal betrayal of emotion—but she did not respond, moving on to the next slide.

When the lecture ended, students gathered their books, the loud chatter filling the air.

“Ms. Carter. Stay behind.”

The words froze me. Déjà vu. Whispers rippled through the class as my peers filed out, their eyes darting between me and her.

Once the room was empty, the silence that fell was thick and charged. She remained seated at her desk, looking at me with that unreadable expression.

Calm and in control. I crossed my arms, tilting my head in defiance. “What is it this time, Professor? Going to scold me again for my extracurricular activities? I assure you, it was consensual.”

Her eyes narrowed at my defiance, but her voice remained level. “Do you realize what you risk when you act so carelessly, Avery? Especially in public?”

I smirked, though my pulse hammered against my ribs. “Careless? Or simply human? Do you forbid human instincts?”

“You,” she said, leaning forward, her voice dropping to an intimate register, “are not like others, Ms. Carter. People watch you. They talk. And the Avery Von Carter name carries a weight that you consistently misunderstand or ignore.”

I let out a harsh, dry chuckle, though the sound was hollow. “So what? You’re giving me a lecture about my family name? You, the detached academic?”

For the first time since she started speaking, her composure cracked—a flicker in her eyes. Annoyance? Frustration? Or something deeper?

She stood, heels clicking against the floor as she walked closer, a relentless advance. Her presence filled the room in ways words failed to capture.

Stopping a critical step away, she lowered her voice, the sound a charged whisper. “Last night, you should have been more careful, Avery. Your security is paramount.”

The words hung hot between us like smoke from a dying fire. I raised a single brow, my lips curling into a provocative smirk, pushing her for confirmation. “So you do admit you were watching me, Professor. I knew it.”

Her lips curved in response, a tantalizing smile, though her eyes betrayed nothing but cold intensity. “Perhaps. Or perhaps you make it impossible for anyone not to notice when you are creating a scene.”

The tension coiled, dangerously tight, in the silence. I inhaled, my voice dropping, teasing but with a serious edge. “Tell me, Professor. Honestly. Are you trying to intimidate me, or are you secretly trying to protect me?”

Her eyes locked on mine, steady. For one suspended heartbeat, I swore I saw something flicker there—something not cold, but human, vulnerable, perhaps concerned.

Then, it vanished, the mask slamming back into place. “Neither,” she said, her voice returning to its professional pitch as she took a step back. “I’m reminding you of your TA duties. You are expected in my office this afternoon. Don’t be late today, Ms. Carter.”

With that, she turned, leaving me standing there with my heart pounding, my smirk faded, my thoughts in chaos. As I walked out, Elize and Victoria waited, curiosity burning in their eyes.

“What did she want this time? Seriously, the woman has a bizarre obsession with you,” Elize asked, leaning close.

I adjusted my bag, forcing a grin onto my face. “Oh, you know. The usual—me being reckless, her being dramatic. Just another Tuesday.”

Victoria studied me, her suspicion deepening. “But you look different, Avery. Like you just realized something huge.”

Different. Yes. Something had shifted. Last night, Ms. Rose had caught me at my most vulnerable—reckless, raw, unguarded.

Instead of destroying me with that knowledge, she had chosen to remind me. Warn me. Maybe even shield me from external view.

But why? That question lingered, gnawing at the back of my mind.

Deep down, though I hated the weakness of the admission, I realized one truth: She wasn’t just haunting the edges of my life anymore. She was firmly inside my head.

And I wasn’t sure if I even wanted her out.

By the time the afternoon sun dipped lower, I had convinced myself I could handle the next encounter. Almost.

My footsteps echoed in the quiet hallway as I headed toward Ms. Rose’s office for my TA duties. Normally, I carried myself with ingrained arrogance, with the confidence of someone who owned every space they walked into.

But today, my stride faltered, my pulse ticking faster than I liked. Her ominous words from earlier still echoed: “Last night, you should have been more careful.”

I hated that the warning lingered in me. I hated even more that a part of me wanted to hear her voice again, even if it was a reprimand.

The door to her office was ajar. I pushed it open with a light sound.

She was there, seated at her desk, reading glasses perched low on her nose as she flipped through papers. The faint scent of her perfume—warm, understated, but with an unmistakable sharp edge—hung in the room.

She didn’t look up. “You’re on time, Ms. Carter,” she said, her voice a calm counterpoint to my turmoil. “Good. It’s a start.”

I smirked, slipping into the room and leaning against the edge of her desk like I owned the place. “Don’t sound so surprised, Professor. I can be reliable when I want to be.”

Her eyes lifted from the papers, cool, assessing, and steady. “I’ll believe in the reliability when I see consistency, Avery. For now, you remain an anomaly.”

There it was—the jab, the one that carried weight and cut deeper than any insult from anyone else I knew. She handed me a stack of newly submitted assignments. “Alphabetize and sort them by section. Carefully. Some of these will be referenced in tomorrow’s seminar. Do not mix them up.”

I took the pile, brushing my fingers against hers. Too deliberate. Her hand didn’t flinch, but her gaze flickered, a minute, internal reaction.

“You trust me with this?” I asked, letting my smirk widen as I carried the papers to the side table. “After all, I’m the reckless one, remember?”

Her pen paused mid-note. “Reckless doesn’t always mean incapable,” she said, her voice calm. “Sometimes it simply means undisciplined. And I trust your intelligence, if not your judgment.”

“Undisciplined,” I repeated, setting the papers down in neat stacks. “Interesting choice of word, Professor. You sound like you’ve been studying my personal profile.”

That got her attention. Her gaze lifted, sharp, unreadable. “Don’t flatter yourself, Avery. You’re not that difficult to figure out. Your tells are obvious.”

But I could see it—the faint curve of her lips, the smallest betrayals of her demeanor. For the next half hour, the room filled only with the rustle of papers, the scratch of her pen, and the occasional exchange.

“Careful with that pile, Ms. Carter, it’s ungraded.”

“Relax, Professor. I assure you, I am not careless all the time. Only when the mood strikes.”

“You say that as if it’s a life achievement, Avery.”

Each line spoken was polite. Each tone remained professional. But beneath it all, there was a palpable tension, something heavy and unspoken.

When I finished the sorting, I leaned back in the chair opposite her. “Done. Perfect, as expected. I require my gold star now.”

She glanced over the stacks, then nodded once. “Acceptable. Not perfect. There is a difference, Avery.”

I chuckled, folding my arms. “You really don’t hand out compliments, do you, Professor? It must be exhausting to be so perpetually critical.”

She looked at me—really looked, the prolonged gaze making my skin prickle. “Not when they’re undeserved, no.”

The silence stretched long. Our eyes locked. And for one suspended moment, there was no Professor and student, no academic rules, no titles. Just two people caught in a space too small for the weight of what they weren’t saying.

She was the one to break it. Setting down her pen with a tap, she folded her hands. “Avery, may I give you a piece of advice? A professional one, of course.”

I arched a brow, intrigued. “Since when do you give advice instead of delivering veiled lectures? I’m listening.”

Her expression didn’t waver, her eyes serious. “Take it however you like. But be careful where you allow yourself to be seen, especially at night. Not everyone will be as forgiving as I was last night. Your public profile is a fragile thing.”

Her words landed like a heavy, cold stone in my chest. I leaned forward, my voice dropping, teasing but with a serious edge. “Forgiving. So you did see everything, Professor. Just how much, exactly?”

Her lips curved—an internal smile. “Enough to warrant the warning.”

I smirked, though my pulse betrayed me with a sharp increase in speed. “And yet here you are, keeping it to yourself. Makes me wonder…” I tilted my head, pushing the boundary. “Are you protecting me, Professor? Is this a protective instinct?”

Her eyes sharpened, the ice returning, but her tone stayed level, deflecting the intimacy. “Don’t mistake professional silence for protection, Ms. Carter. Sometimes silence is just a profound disappointment. Now, I have work to do.”

That sting cut deeper than any physical reprimand could have. We went back to work, though the air was heavier.

I found myself watching her—the way her dark hair fell against her shoulder, the way her fingers tapped against the desk when she was deep in thought, the way her eyes stayed focused on her work but seemed aware of my presence.

By the time the clock struck the hour, signaling the end of my duties, I stood, grabbing my bag. “Well, that was civil, Professor. No fights, no raised voices. It almost feels wrong.”

She allowed herself the faintest, most controlled smile. “Progress, then, Ms. Carter. A temporary peace.”

I lingered by the door, studying her. “You’re not nearly as unreadable as you think you are, Professor.”

Her pen paused over the paper, but she didn’t look up. “Neither are you, Avery.”

I left with those words haunting me. Walking down the empty hallway, I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. This wasn’t routine TA duty anymore. This wasn’t just intellectual rivalry.

She knew me. She saw through my performance, past the Von Carter facade. And instead of tearing me down with that knowledge, she was keeping me in check. Not kindly—but with this cold control that infuriated and fascinated me.

Deep down, I hated that I wanted her to keep doing it. Because the Avery Von Carter that people whispered about—the untouchable one, the reckless one—felt small and fragile compared to the Avery sitting across from Ms. Rose.

That terrified me more than anything.

❖

The mansion was bathed in an ominous, amber glow when I stepped inside that evening. For a fleeting second, I thought it was the usual, peaceful quiet—Emily humming in the kitchen, the chandelier lights softening the cold, hollow corridors.

But something was different. I felt the change in the air before I saw them.

Emily stood near the foyer, hands clasped in that quiet way of hers. When I met her eyes, she gave a nod, the kind that already carried an answer to a question I hadn’t been allowed to ask.

“They’re here?” I asked, the question a strained whisper.

She smiled faintly, lips twitching as though holding back a mountain of words. “Yes, Avery. They arrived unexpectedly today. You know how they are with announcements.”

My stomach tightened into a knot. My parents. For the Von Carters, an arrival was never simple.

It wasn’t just people walking through a door—it was an atmospheric storm colliding with calm waters, leaving ripples everywhere. My parents, Mr. and Mrs. Von Carter, carried the suffocating weight of our family name and empire. Even their silence was heavy, demanding.

I was standing there, rooted to the spot, when a voice, sharp but elegant, cut across the distance, carrying authority.

“Avery,” my mother called.

She appeared near the dining room entrance, posture regal, wearing one of her tailored dresses that could intimidate an entire boardroom. Her eyes softened for a fraction of a second when they landed on me. “Go and freshen up. We will talk at the dinner table. There’s something important we must discuss regarding your future.”

The way she said important—measured, deliberate, final—made my chest tighten. Important never meant small. Important never meant something I could easily brush aside.

I nodded and ascended the grand staircase. My reflection in the gilded mirrors almost mocked me—hair messy from the day’s stress, jacket wrinkled from class, hints of weariness in my eyes.

Von Carters were supposed to look immaculate. Untouchable. Perfect. But I wasn’t sure I fit into that cold mold as seamlessly as my parents did.

By the time I returned to the dining hall, the enormous table was set. Silverware gleamed under the chandelier, glasses sparkled, and dishes steamed with the aroma of culinary perfection. Yet, all of it felt like a stage set for the true, inevitable act—the conversation waiting to unfold.

My father sat at the head of the table, his usual spot, reading something on his tablet with narrowed, focused eyes. My mother sat at his right, sipping her wine, her intelligent gaze flicking to me as soon as I entered.

“Sit,” my father said, not looking up, his tone carrying an authority that left no room for delay.

I obeyed, sliding into the uncomfortable, high-backed chair across from them. For a moment, only the clinking of silverware and the rustle of expensive fabric filled the silence.

My parents loved dramatics—they let silence stretch until the weight forced you to speak, to squirm, to reveal your weaknesses.

Finally, my mother set her glass down with a definitive click. “Tomorrow,” she began, her voice calm but commanding, “we have the quarterly board meeting. The one you’ve been preparing for.”

I stiffened, a feeling of deep dread washing over me. I already knew what that meant. But I kept my face blank, waiting for the final word.

She leaned forward, her eyes pinning me down with an intensity that demanded honesty. “And you, Avery, will be presenting the new quarter’s strategy.”

The fork in my hand nearly slipped, clattering against the china plate. “Presenting?” I echoed, trying not to let disbelief spill into my tone. “The whole strategy?”

“Yes,” my father finally spoke, his voice rolling like thunder, steady but unyielding. “It is time you step into the arena. No more sitting at the sidelines as an intern, passively watching. The board needs to see you, hear you, and recognize you—not just as our privileged daughter but as a Von Carter capable of carrying this entire global empire forward.”

I swallowed hard, the knot in my stomach tightening. The board meeting. Von Carter Enterprises wasn’t just a business—it was the business. A name people in finance and politics spoke with reverence and fear.

Our boardroom was filled with veterans, with financial sharks who had swum these waters for decades. And now, they expected me to stand there, in front of them all, and present a strategy.

My mother’s gaze was unwavering, merciless. “You’ve been shadowing us long enough, Avery. The major shareholders want concrete assurance that the legacy will continue under the next generation. Tomorrow, you will go in there and give them that assurance.”

I tried to form words, but my mind raced, choked by the pressure. Presenting wasn’t the problem—I could talk, I could charm, I could bluff my way through a lot. But this wasn’t a university classroom. This wasn’t intellectual banter with Ms. Rose or teasing Elize and Victoria. This was the boardroom.

One wrong word, one misstep, and the room would remember it forever. In our world, memories were long and unforgiving.

“I…” I managed, forcing a brittle smirk that didn’t reach my terrified eyes. “You make it sound like tomorrow is going to decide the fate of the entire empire, Mother.”

“It always does,” my father said simply.

His eyes lifted from the tablet and locked onto mine. Cold, unyielding steel. “Every meeting, every word, every move—we do not walk into a room casually, Avery. We dominate it. That is the only meaning of being a Von Carter.”

My temples throbbed. The words sounded rehearsed, the same sermon I’d heard since childhood. Von Carters don’t falter. Von Carters don’t bend. Von Carters dominate.

I let out a frustrated breath, pressing my fork down against the plate, restraining a worse impulse. “Do you two ever hear yourselves? You talk like we’re gods descending from Olympus. I’m twenty-four, not a machine built for profit.”

My mother’s eyes narrowed. Not angry, not surprised—just sharp. “And yet, you will have to learn to be both. Human enough to inspire. Unshakable enough to command. That is your inheritance.”

The headache pressed against my skull. I rubbed at my temple, trying to hold my composure together. From the corner of my eye, I caught Emily.

She stood by the side of the room, poised like an elegant shadow, hands clasped. But her eyes—oh, her eyes—betrayed her. They glimmered with something close to amusement. She was suppressing a smile.

I nearly choked on a shocked laugh. Emily, of all people, standing there enjoying my predicament. She didn’t need to say a word—her expression screamed, There you go, Miss Avery. The Von Carter legacy, preached again. How does it feel to be trapped?

I wanted to throw a cushion at her, but all I could do was shoot her a venomous glare. She only tilted her head, lips twitching, before lowering her gaze to the floor. The perfect servant.

Meanwhile, my father was still speaking, detailing the attack plan. “You will open the presentation with the financial projections. Afterward, you will address the expansion proposal into the European market. Keep it sharp, keep it bold, and keep it brief. These men don’t respect hesitation. If you want them to listen, you must make them believe you are the future of this company.”

The full weight of it all sank into me, heavy and suffocating. Tomorrow, I’d be standing in that boardroom, eyes drilling into me from all sides, waiting for me to falter, to prove I wasn’t ready. And behind me, my parents—the embodiment of perfection—watching, judging, expecting the impossible.

I let out a defeated sigh. “And… if I mess up, Father? What then?”

My mother leaned back, her expression serene but merciless. “Then you learn never to do so again, Avery. The cost of failure is the best teacher.”

Her words cut clean, leaving no space for comfort. For a long while, we ate in silence. Forks scraping plates, glasses clinking. But my mind wasn’t here. It was racing through slides, data points, strategies, imagining the harsh glare of the boardroom lights. My pulse thudded in my ears, an anxious drumbeat.

Finally, I pushed my plate back with force. “Fine,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant though my voice betrayed the strain. “I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to play robot, reciting pre-programmed lines like some predictable Von Carter clone, Mother.”

My father smirked, the trace of approval in his cold eyes. “Good. Because a clone can always be replaced. A powerful leader, Avery, cannot.”

I didn’t respond to the final chess move. Instead, I caught Emily’s eyes across the vast room. She raised one brow, as if saying: See? You’re already tangled in it, Miss Avery. Whether you like it or not, your role has been assigned.

And maybe she was right.

I excused myself, muttering about needing to prepare. My parents didn’t stop me—they knew tomorrow was already pressing against my chest like a physical weight.

As I walked back upstairs, I could still hear their voices echoing behind me. Strong. Certain. Carved in marble. The Von Carter way.

But inside, all I felt was the tremor of nerves I’d never admit aloud. The pressure to dominate was crushing. The thought of Ms. Rose’s disdain was a powerful motivation.

I would not falter. I had to dominate.