My Wickedly Charming Professor: Married On Paper, Obsessed In Class

Three years had passed since I became Liz Andrade Navarro, a wife in name more than anything else. The man I married was still a stranger to me.

Looking back, the situation was absurd. At 21, I had entered a marriage without knowing the person beside me, but fairness had never been part of my life. When I was 16, my parents died in a plane crash and left me completely alone. In the aftermath, I learned that my father had prepared a will meant to secure my future if anything happened to them.

The arrangement took effect the moment I turned 18. I was required to marry my legal guardian.

Nothing could have prepared me for the conditions attached to that decision. One clause stated that I had to remain married until I reached the age of 25. Another demanded that I earn a law degree so I could work as a lawyer and eventually inherit my family's companies, all of which operated within the legal field. Only after meeting every requirement would I gain control over my assets and my life, including the right to file for divorce.

Fate intervened again not long after. My guardian died from a heart attack at only 32. With his death came another forced change. I was required to marry someone else.

This time, the man chosen for me was the uncle of my former guardian. He was another stranger, though younger than I expected at 27.

The irony was not lost on me. His nephew was older than him, and the whole thing felt unreal.

On the day of the wedding, I never even saw him. The paperwork arrived through Bruno, the lawyer my father had trusted to oversee everything. I signed the documents that declared me legally married to Henry McNight, and that was the extent of it. There was no ceremony. There was no dress. No guests witnessed it.

Soon after, another shift followed. I moved into Henry's mansion. Sharing a home with someone I had never met unsettled me at first, yet I learned to accept what had been decided for me. The house itself was anything but simple. It stretched across two floors and included a garage large enough for three cars.

Three years had gone by since then. Despite the fear I once carried, I had never actually shared the space with my husband. The only constant presence in the house was the housekeeper.

Sandra was in her fifties and carried herself with quiet devotion. She treated me like her own daughter, and over time, she became the closest thing to family I had left.

Breakfast was already on the table when clarity finally settled in.

"Sandra, could you call Bruno and ask him to come by?"

"Of course, Liz. May I ask why?" she asked, peering at me over her glasses.

"I want a divorce," I said after a pause. Being tied to a man I had never truly known had become unbearable. A tired sigh followed the admission.

"Easy now, my dear. In three more years, you will be free."

All I knew about my husband came from a single photograph Sandra had shown me once. From that image alone, I learned he was tall and blond, with sharp green eyes and light brown hair. His beard looked untrimmed, giving him a rugged appeal I could not deny. Even so, I doubted he would have spared a glance for an 18 year old girl back then.

"No, Sandra. I want to live. I want to experience things."

She set her cup down and studied me in silence.

"None of that feels possible while I am still married."

"You can still live. Go out with your friends. Enjoy yourself."

"Mrs. Navarro," Petter called from the doorway.

"I am coming. Goodbye," I answered. Turning back, I picked up my bag and leaned in to kiss Sandra on the forehead.

"Take care, my girl."

Life inside the mansion taught me how to build my own version of family. I treated every member of the staff with genuine care, because they were the people who filled the silence and kept me from feeling alone.

Over time, Sandra and Petter found comfort in each other. Both carried the weight of difficult marriages behind them, and instead of rushing, they chose companionship when their paths crossed.

Everyone continued calling me by my parents' surname, and I never corrected them. The name McNight never felt like it belonged to me, especially when Henry chose hotel rooms over staying under the same roof as his young and inconvenient wife whenever he came to New York.

The drive ended in front of my college, its glass facade gleaming with polished excess. I passed through the turnstiles and immediately spotted Ana, my unfiltered and unpredictable friend.

"Liiiz, come on. You have to see this," she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me along with barely contained excitement. "We have a new professor."

"You look unusually thrilled. I do not remember you ever rushing into a classroom."

"This has nothing to do with learning," she replied with a grin. "It is about the professor." Her tone dipped suggestively. "He is ridiculously attractive."

A laugh slipped out as I shook my head. Ana had always believed every instructor was handsome.

The moment we stepped inside the room, my body betrayed me. My palms grew damp, and my throat tightened as recognition struck. Standing there was a man I knew only by name and circumstance. Taller than I imagined. Broader. More striking than the photograph I once saw. Henry McNight.

My eyes widened before I forced myself to recover, schooling my expression as quickly as I could. Whatever this moment was, I could not allow it to show how shaken I truly felt.

"What on earth," I blurted out, my voice carrying farther than I intended.

"I warned you. The man is gorgeous."

She had no idea I was married. As far as she knew, I was just someone with a generous inheritance who lived in a large house alongside Sandra and Petter. She probably assumed they were long time employees of my family, nothing more.

My thoughts scattered the instant a deep, confident voice filled the room.

"Good morning. My name is Henry McKnight. I will be taking over your Civil Law classes, and I hope this course proves useful to all of you."

He turned to the board and began writing, already immersed in the subject.

Civil Law. Of all things.

Once I took my seat, the lecture began, yet not a single word truly reached me. My attention stayed fixed on him. On the way he carried himself. On the tempting curve of his mouth. On the absurd reality that the man standing there, teaching law, was legally mine.

Judging by the hushed voices and soft laughter rippling through the room, I was far from alone in noticing him. He carried a composed seriousness, paired with a faint, knowing smile that suggested he was fully aware of the effect he had. Still, he did not indulge it, continuing his lecture with a focus that made it far more engaging than any class before his.

I felt almost calm until his gaze lifted. His eyes narrowed slightly in my direction, and a chill ran through me. Did he recognize me. Did he know. No. That was impossible. At least, I hoped it was.

"Come on, Liz," Ana insisted softly as the class ended, nudging me back to the present.

"Yeah," I answered, forcing myself to sound composed.

"Please. Wipe the look off your face and move. We have another class." Ana laughed.

We barely reached the doorway when my foot caught on nothing at all. I went down hard, and my books scattered across the floor in every direction.

Perfect. A complete cliche. Any second now, he would step in and play the hero.

"Are you hurt?" Henry asked as he came closer.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My voice refused to cooperate. When I stayed silent, he lowered himself and started gathering my books. Our eyes met briefly, and the contact sent my thoughts spiraling.

He offered his hand, and I took it without hesitation. Only then did I notice Ana frozen beside me, staring at the scene like she had forgotten how to blink.

"Th-thank you," I stammered, hating myself for the stumble in my words.

"You are welcome. Just try to be more careful next time."

"Ana, we are leaving," I said quickly. I did not respond to him. I grabbed Ana's arm and pulled her away.

"Did you notice how he acts?" The moment we stepped into the hallway, the words rushed out.

"He is exactly my type." Ana sighed dreamily.

"He was rude."

"No, he was not. He helped you."

The bell rang before I could respond, and I silently thanked it for cutting the conversation short.

"Move, Ana." I tugged her along, forcing her attention away from the professor. Or rather, the man who was legally my husband.

Every class that followed passed without leaving a trace in my mind. My thoughts stayed trapped on those green eyes, sharper and more striking than the photograph I had seen years ago. Reality only made it worse. He was even more attractive in person. And the cruel irony sat heavy in my chest. He was my husband. At least he did not recognize me, and I prayed it stayed that way until the divorce papers were signed.

Ana's voice eventually pulled me out of my spiral.

"Hey, Liz. Are you alright?"

"I am fine," I answered quickly, even though the lie tasted bitter.

"Good. Then let us go. That was our last class."

When I glanced around, the classroom stood completely empty.

"Come on."

"There is a party at Samantha's place tonight. Are you coming?"

"I do not feel so great," I admitted, forcing a small frown.

"Let me guess. Did the gorgeous professor leave you in pieces?" she teased, laughing.

"That is not it," I said quickly, forcing the excuse. "I think I have cramps. Or maybe my stomach's rebelling against whatever I ate earlier." Either way, it sounded convincing enough.

We walked down the hallway together.

"I would stay with you," Ana said casually, "but I am going to see if I can finally get somewhere with Igor." Bold as ever, she said it without shame, though she still pretended to play it cool.

"Good luck."

Igor had always been her impossible crush. He had never shown the slightest interest, a fact everyone seemed to notice except her.

"Thanks. See you Monday." She hugged me quickly and headed toward the gate.

I stayed behind, watching her disappear into the crowd.

"Are you feeling alright?" That familiar low voice reached me from behind, sending an unwelcome shiver through my body. Logic reminded me that he had no idea who I was, yet my reaction betrayed me anyway.

"Navarro," I answered as I turned around. "Liz Navarro." The irony was intentional. If he thought I had forgotten how dismissive he had been earlier, he was wrong.

"I apologize. It takes time to learn all my students' names."

The sound of his voice lingered longer than it should have. To him, I was nothing more than another student.

I said nothing. I simply turned and walked toward the gate without looking back.

"Miss Navarro? Miss?"

I kept walking despite hearing him call after me, and I never turned around. Relief washed over me the moment I stepped through the gate and spotted Petter's car waiting out front. I thanked him silently for arriving on time and climbed in without hesitation.

"Did something go wrong, Liz?"

"It is nothing, Petter," I replied, trying to sound normal. His eyes stayed on me through the rearview mirror. "Something I ate must not have agreed with me."

"Should I take you to a doctor?"

"That will not be necessary. Sandra's tea will fix it."

"Alright."

The car pulled away, and the ride home passed in a blur of thoughts I could not quiet. Every mile only dragged me further into my own head. When we finally arrived, another surprise waited for me. Bruno was already there, sitting stiffly as usual, his expression unreadable and severe.

Bruno?

"Liz, my dear." Sandra hurried over the moment she saw me. "You look pale. Are you feeling alright?"

"I ate something bad," I said, forcing a weak expression to sell the lie.

"I will make you some tea," she replied at once before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Thank you." I slipped off my bag, dropped it by the door, and sat down across from Bruno.

"Is everything alright?"

"I am fine, Bruno. But I am curious. What brings you here?"

"Mr. McNight wants to speak with you personally about the divorce."

"There is no point. He never cared to know who I was before, so why start now just to end it?" The frustration I had been holding back finally surfaced. "He did not even bother to attend our wedding. This arrangement has dragged on far longer than it should have. Just send the papers and I will sign them. That is how this works, right?"

"He plans to come to the city to handle it himself," Bruno explained.

"He is already here," I blurted out before I could stop myself. Sometimes, my mouth moved faster than my thoughts.

"What?"

"I saw it in the newspaper," I responded quickly, forcing the lie. "It mentioned that he had already arrived."

"Oh." He nodded, seemingly convinced.

"Tell him to sign the documents and be done with it. All I want is my life back. Say whatever you have to."

"I will try, Liz. I cannot promise anything. Mr. McNight is not an easy man."

"That is only because he has never seen me lose my temper."

"I will do what I can," he said, already sounding doubtful. His expression made it clear he did not expect success. "I will call you."

"Thank you."

Bruno stood and made his way to the door.

Was my husband really that frightening? Every time someone mentioned him, there was always fear tucked into their voice.

Sandra returned a moment later with my tea. The boldo was bitter and unpleasant, but I drank every last drop anyway. I did not have the energy to explain what had truly unsettled me.

Saturday dragged on while I stayed home, and my thoughts kept circling back to him no matter how hard I tried to distract myself. Thankfully, Petter and Sandra kept me company. Like always, the three of us settled into the living room, binge watching "Supernatural" while passing around a bowl of popcorn.

"Liz, whenever you want to tell me what's going on, just speak up."

"Thank you." I leaned into her embrace and let myself breathe for a moment.

"Girl."

"Hi, Petter!"

"Sandra and I are going to have dinner at a restaurant today." He paused, then asked, "Do you want to come with us?"

"No," I answered quickly, because the last thing I wanted was to step into their time together.

"Are you sure? We can cancel and stay home with you." Sandra leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

"No, Sandra. Really, go."

She lingered, clearly unsure.

"I promise I'm fine. Ana invited me to a party later anyway."

"And you're actually going?"

"Of course." I checked the clock on the wall and sighed. "I should probably start getting ready."

I gave her a small smile before pushing myself off the couch and heading for the stairs.

"Alright. We might not come back tonight," Petter called after me as I went up.

"That's fine. Have fun!" I shouted back from the top step.

Even they had romantic plans lined up, and me? I was stuck killing time, all because of a stupid contract that kept my life on pause.

I shut the door behind me and dropped onto the bed without bothering to take off my shoes. My eyes fixed on the ceiling as my thoughts wandered, circling around the idea of Henry signing that contract without having the slightest idea who I really was. Every possible outcome played out in my head, one after another, until my mind landed on the most ridiculous one of all. Him falling in love with me. I knew it was nothing more than the restless imagination of a lonely woman, yet I could not deny that seeing him up close had stirred something unexpected inside me. I stayed there, staring upward, until exhaustion finally pulled me into sleep.

A shrill ringtone dragged me awake, and I reached for my phone with heavy eyes. Ana's name flashed across the screen. The clock read 1 a.m.

"Ana?"

"Liz, you have to come over here!" she instructed, her words slurred and uneven.

"Igor. That hot professor is here with Britney," Sam shouted, cutting in before Ana could finish.

Did Ana seriously tell Sam about that?

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Oh, come on, Liz, you never go out," she muttered, struggling to keep her words straight. "And I really need help dealing with Igor."

"We're at that nightclub with all the hot guys," Sam yelled, laughing so hard she could barely speak. "And she's starting to take her clothes off."

"Who's taking off their clothes?" My heart jumped. "Oh my God. Is that Ana?" I raised my voice. "Ana. Sam." Nothing came back through the phone. Panic crept in fast. "Don't go anywhere. I'm coming right now." I ended the call and bolted out of bed.

There was no time to overthink my outfit, so I pulled a tight blue dress from the closet. The deep V neckline and the open back that dipped to my waist made it bolder than anything I usually wore. I had been saving it for a special occasion, but since that moment never came, tonight would have to do. After a quick glance at my shoes, I settled on black platform heels. Anything taller felt like a bad idea, considering I had no clue what kind of chaos awaited me. I kept my makeup simple and deliberate. Sharp eyes, dramatic lashes, and a swipe of crimson lipstick to make my mouth stand out.

If Mr. McNight could enjoy the city like a single man, then Mrs. McNight could remind everyone she knew how to play along too.

The garage felt colder than usual as I climbed into my white Mercedes GLA. White cars had always been my weakness, and I bought this one the moment I turned eighteen. Driving was never something I enjoyed, but that night, it was unavoidable.

Bright lights and pounding music greeted me when I reached the club, along with a long line that stretched down the entrance. A tired sigh slipped out before I remembered I would not be waiting with the rest of them. The place belonged to Pedro's father, an old family friend. Showing up was rare for me. Most nights were spent at Pedro's house with Ana instead. He clearly liked her, but she never noticed and preferred crying in corners over Igor.

I walked toward the entrance without slowing down.

The security guard spotted me immediately. "Miss Navarro!" I acknowledged him with a brief nod, and he stepped aside without hesitation.

Once the path was clear, I moved into the club.

Noise and bodies filled every inch of the space. Music thumped through the air while the lights flashed nonstop. I reached into my purse for my phone, only to realize I had left it in the car.

Alok's "Alive" pulsed through the speakers, drawing my attention as I tried to orient myself.

"Get it together, Liz," I muttered under my breath.

Pushing forward through the crowd became a challenge. I did my best to avoid stepping on toes, though the effort felt almost pointless in a place this packed.

"Excuse me!" I called out, and a few people shifted just enough to let me pass.

After weaving through the mass of bodies, I finally spotted Ana and Sam on the dance floor, laughing and moving with Igor and Pedro.

"Liz. Liz!" Ana yelled when she saw me.

"Are you guys okay?"

"See? All we had to do was hint that one of us might strip, and she showed up immediately!" Ana and Sam burst into laughter.

"I cannot believe you two. That was low." I scrunched up my nose.

"Don't be mad, Liz," Ana pleaded, putting on an exaggerated pout. "You never go out with us."

"Enough talking. Let's dance," Sam said, grabbing my arm. Ana followed right behind her, already dragging me toward the center of the floor.

The moment we stepped onto the dance floor, the music pulled us in. I let my body follow the beat and stopped thinking about how stiff I probably looked. Ana and Sam were already letting loose, laughing and moving without a care.

If my husband could spend his nights at clubs, then I had every right to do the same. I still had not seen him anywhere, yet my gaze kept drifting through the crowd again and again. Part of me wondered if they had lied just to drag me out of the house. Even so, it worked, and I was here.

Igor slid closer and started dancing with me. The sound wrapped around me, sinking into my skin and guiding every movement until I felt perfectly in sync with the rhythm.

Soon enough, my attention wandered again. I scanned the upper level of the club, and that was when a man standing with his back turned caught my eye. A crisp white shirt and black jeans fit him too well, outlining every inch of his frame. He was undeniably attractive.

When he finally turned around, our eyes locked, and the air left my lungs.

Henry was watching me. His stare was sharp and intense, and the crease between his brows made it clear he did not like seeing me dancing there.

Igor leaned in close and snapped me out of it. He said he'd gotten me a drink.

"You'll like this."

I took the glass from his hand and emptied it without hesitation.

"Easy," Igor yelled over the music, laughing into my ear.

Another drink appeared in my hand, then another, passed to me by Ana and Sam. I finished each one just as quickly. Heat spread through my body, my vision softened at the edges, and a light, reckless happiness took hold.

Curiosity pulled my eyes back to the spot where Henry had been standing. This time, he was gone.

A stranger slipped into my space and started moving with me, and I did not bother turning around to see who he was. The alcohol had already softened my edges, and all I felt was the way his movements lined up with mine. Our bodies closed the distance as his hands settled at my waist, and I rolled into the rhythm without thinking. Heat followed the contact, and the realization of how into it he was barely registered before I finally turned to face him. A striking man stared back at me, honey colored eyes and a neatly trimmed goatee catching the light. Before I could react, our mouths met.

The kiss caught me off guard in the best way. It felt indulgent and unfamiliar, the kind of closeness I had not allowed myself in years. My past suddenly felt very far away, like a chapter I rarely opened anymore.

Someone slammed into me without warning, jolting me out of the moment. I spun around, ready to snap at whoever ruined it, but a cold splash hit my dress instead. Liquid soaked into the fabric, and frustration washed over me just as fast. I shut my eyes and took a slow breath, refusing to lose control right there.

When I opened them again, he was standing in front of me.

"I'm sorry," he murmured close to my ear. "Miss Navarro." My eyes fluttered shut once more as his voice sank in. "Are you okay?"

That voice should have been illegal. Of all people, it had to be Henry.

"Yes. I'm fine," I replied, forcing my eyes open again.

"Come with me." His fingers closed around my hand, and a sharp jolt ran through me at the contact. "Let me take care of this."

I glanced over my shoulder, searching for the man I had been dancing with, but he had already vanished into the crowd.

He guided me toward the bar, and I never even noticed where the cloth came from before he started dabbing at my dress. The moment his hand brushed the space between my breasts, he froze and looked straight at me. A sharp shiver ran through me at that single point of contact.

"Give that to me." I snatched the cloth from his hand, and as I finished drying myself, his narrowed gaze never left my face.

"Excuse me?" His expression shifted, almost pitying.

"No. Excuse me." I did not wait for a reply. I slipped back into the crowd, scanning every face as I searched for the man with the honey colored eyes.

"Liz. Liz. Liz." His voice followed me, persistent and low.

My friends came into view near the edge of the dance floor.

"What happened?" Ana asked, gesturing toward my damp dress.

"That idiot McNight spilled a drink all over me."

"And before that?"

"I was kissing a gorgeous guy." A smile crept up as the memory replayed. "Someone slammed into me, and when I turned around to curse them out, something cold hit me."

"He's into you," she responded, sounding far too amused.

"Don't start, Ana."

"I'm serious. If he wasn't, he wouldn't have interrupted your kiss like that."

She might have had a point, but he did not know me. He did not understand the strange, complicated situation we were actually stuck in.

Time slipped away without us noticing, and it was only when the sky began to hint at morning that we realized it was nearly 5.

"Okay, I'm done. I'm completely wiped."

When we reached the parking lot, Igor slowed his steps beside me. "Are you leaving with us, Liz?"

"I drove myself."

"You sure you're good to drive?" He hesitated. I answered with a brief nod. "Alright then. See you Monday."

We exchanged quick goodbyes before they piled into their car and disappeared down the street. I slid into my own seat but did not start the engine right away. Instead, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, letting the night replay itself in fragments.

A sharp knock against the window jolted me upright. When I opened my eyes, Henry stood there, close enough to startle me. I lifted my hands in a silent question, but he only motioned for me to lower the window.

"What do you want?" I asked, already annoyed as the glass slid down.

"Any chance you could give me a ride?" he asked, a crooked smile playing on his lips.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Rather than backing off, his grin only grew, making the situation worse in every possible way.

"My car died," he said, gesturing toward a vehicle parked a short distance away.

"Then call a taxi."

"I can't. I lost my wallet."

A quiet argument played out in my head as I sat there. One part of me wanted to drive off and leave him standing in that parking lot. The other part knew I would spend the entire ride home feeling guilty if I did.

"Miss Navarro." He snapped his fingers in front of my face, pulling me back to reality.

"Fine. But only if you agree to one thing."

"And what would that be?"

"There will be no conversation," I replied, making it very clear.

"Wow. Alright."

"Get in," I instructed.

He circled the car and slid into the passenger seat. I took a steady breath, adjusted myself behind the wheel, and started the engine. Leaving the club behind felt strange, especially with my so called husband now tagging along like an unwanted shadow.

"Nice car," he said after a moment, glancing my way.

I answered by rolling my eyes and keeping my focus straight ahead.

"Okay. Message received." He lifted his hands as if surrendering.

"Put your address into the GPS," I said, still refusing to look at him.

I shot him a sharp look. "I can tell you where to go, but I have not been here long enough to know the street names."

A brief silence settled between us before he spoke again. "Are you always this way?"

"This way how?"

"Tense," he added, eyes fixed on the road. "And a little sharp."

"Keep talking, and I will drop you off at the next corner," I warned, forcing myself to take a steady breath.

"I would still appreciate an answer."

"I do not owe you one. Unless I am sitting in one of your classes, and from what I can tell, this is not a classroom."

"If it were, I'd already have you right where I want you."

Heat rushed to my face at his choice of words.

"Do not blush," he said with a grin.

What a cheeky man!

"Are we almost there?" I asked, changing the subject before he pushed further.

"Two more blocks."

My thoughts tangled as the car rolled forward. One thing stood out above the rest. For a married man, he seemed far too comfortable crossing lines. Fine. If he wanted to play games, I could play too. Maybe this would even work in my favor when it came time for him to sign the divorce.

"The next building," he said, pointing ahead. "Right there."

I brought the car to a stop, but he did not move. "Aren't you getting out? You can invite yourself in if that is what you are waiting for."

"No, thank you."

"You might regret that," he said, and there was something unmistakably calculated in his gaze.

"I cannot. I am married."

His expression shifted, seriousness replacing the teasing edge.

"You seem too young for that," he muttered as he stepped out, leaning down against the open window.

"Life did not give me much choice."

"And your husband lets you go out alone like this?"

"That is none of your concern."

He went quiet, lost in thought for a brief moment.

"See you tomorrow."

For once, I said nothing. I pressed the gas and pulled away, and when I checked the rearview mirror, he was still standing there, watching me disappear down the street.

Several years earlier...

"You are going to inherit everything from our McNight family," my father said, his voice steady and final. And just like that, my story began-not from Liz's eyes, but from mine.

"I can't do that. I'm only 15."

We stood inside the mafia headquarters, surrounded by men who treated his words like law.

"You do not get to wait," he replied after a long breath. "Your preparation starts now. This is your tutor. He will teach you how to protect our name and everything attached to it."

The man was impossibly tall, painfully thin, and completely bald. He looked more intimidating than reassuring.

My father had never been gentle. Affection had no place in his world. When my mother died, that truth only hardened. I was twelve when she passed away from a malignant tumor in her liver. By the time anyone realized what was wrong, there was nothing left to try.

Sandra was the only softness I knew. She had been my nanny for as long as I could remember, and when I was sent to New York, she came with me. She took care of me when no one else bothered to ask how I was holding up.

Our family name carried weight in the Italian mafia. I never wanted to lead it. Still, tradition did not leave room for refusal. The title was inherited, not earned, and eventually I accepted that fighting it was pointless. Instead, I trained my younger brother to run operations in my place. All he had to do was keep me informed and follow my directives.

"Henry, I will handle everything for you. But there is one condition."

"What condition, Hendrick?"

"When I get married, all of this becomes yours. From that moment on, you take control." He pointed toward the private room overlooking the building.

"By that time, I will need to prepare someone else to replace me."

"Why did you never say any of this to Dad?"

"You already know the answer. When something is passed down by blood, you do not argue with it. You accept it and move on."

Three years ago...

My history was cluttered with sins I kept buried. I never pulled a trigger myself, but I was the one who gave the orders, and that made me just as guilty. Control mattered to me. Things happened when I decided they would, especially when it came to women. I never learned how to charm anyone. If I wanted something, I took it. If a woman was married, money usually solved the problem. When it did not, my men handled it by buying off the husband or scaring him into silence.

It worked every time.

Over the years, I grew close to my mentor and eventually started calling him uncle, a title he accepted only after resisting it for a long time. His son was older than I was, and we trained side by side. Eric loved the mafia life. Travel excited him, and danger never seemed to faze him. I, on the other hand, built a different kind of power. I worked at a law firm in New York, managed its operations, and became the owner's right hand. Then, during one of Eric's trips, he was killed. The thought refused to leave my mind. Everything pointed to the German mafia sending a warning.

I chose to go back to New York and live as normally as possible. I believed that blending in was the only way I could uncover the truth behind Eric's death.

Not long after my return, a letter arrived with devastating news. The plane carrying the Andrade family had exploded midair. The timing unsettled me. Their deaths came first, and Eric's followed soon after. The pattern felt too deliberate to ignore.

Could the German mafia really be behind all of it? Eric had always avoided going into detail about the Andrade family, speaking in fragments and half truths, but now there was no running from the answers. Whatever he had been mixed up in, I was going to uncover it.

"My boy, you're finally home." Sandra stood waiting at the mansion entrance, her eyes soft with relief.

"I missed you too, Sandra," I murmured as I wrapped her in a tight embrace.

"Promise me you'll stay awhile this time. More than just a few days."

"I honestly don't know," I responded with a long sigh. "All I can think about is finding out what really happened to Eric."

"I still can't accept it," she said quietly as she walked beside me toward the office. "Do you think the Germans were involved?"

"I can't say yet. Before anything else, I need to understand what Eric was dealing with."

"There's something else," she added, hesitating. "A letter came for Eric. This one." She handed me a sheet of paper.

My brow furrowed as unease crept in. There was no sender listed anywhere.

I opened the envelope and unfolded the two pages inside, scanning the words slowly.

"Eric, if this letter has reached you, then we left this world sooner than planned. Fate was merciless, and we never had the chance to watch our little girl grow into a woman. Since life and business showed us no mercy, I trust you will honor our agreement. Protect my daughter. And if that is no longer possible, I hope this McNight man proves himself worthy in your place."

"What the hell is this?"

"What is it, my boy?"

I said nothing and reached for the second sheet tucked inside the envelope.

The document laid everything out with cold precision. If anything happened to the Andrade family, Eric was required to marry their daughter. Divorce would only be allowed after she finished college or once she turned 25. In the event of his death, he was obligated to name someone he trusted to take his place. If he failed to do so, his secret would be exposed to the media without hesitation.

Was this tied to the mafia somehow? What kind of dealings had Eric been involved in? And how deeply were the Andrades tangled in all of it?

My eyes stopped on one particular line, and my stomach tightened. He had named me as the trusted party. I could hardly believe he had dragged me into something this dangerous.

Walking away was not an option. I had no idea what secret Eric was protecting, and risking exposure could put the entire organization in danger.

"Sandra?"

"Yes, my boy?"

"Have you ever heard of the Andrade family?"

"Mr. Andrade used to visit from time to time. He and Eric were very close."

That only made things worse. Friendship did not align with threats and contracts like this.

"Did he ever mention having children?"

"He often joked that Eric should marry his daughter one day."

"Alright," I answered quietly, rubbing at my temples as the weight of it all settled in.

"Are you staying for dinner tonight?"

"I am not staying down here. I need time to think." I pressed a kiss to her forehead and headed upstairs.

Everything in my bedroom was exactly how I liked it. I always warned Sandra a day before arriving, and she never forgot a single detail. She was the only person who knew my habits that well, and she treated me less like an employer and more like family.

Once I closed the door, I reached for my phone and called Guilherme. If anyone could untangle what I was about to step into, it was him.

"Guilherme?"

"Henry, what unexpected trouble are you bringing me tonight?"

"I am getting married," I said flatly.

"You finally met the woman who did the impossible?" There was a pause, followed by laughter.

"This has nothing to do with love. It is business."

"Then explain."

"Something happened to Eric. I do not have all the details yet," I explained, exhaling slowly.

He waited, knowing there was more.

"I am supposed to marry Miss Andrade."

"Henry, where are you going with this? You know you cannot marry outside the mafia," he said after a long pause.

"I am the boss of all bosses. I decide how this works." I did not bother softening my tone. "There will be a marriage, but I want no attention, no press, no spectacle. I do not even want to meet her. We sign the papers, she signs them too, and that is it."

"Are you absolutely certain?"

"I am. Once the seven years are over, I will file for divorce."

"Alright. I will speak to Bruno."

"Who is Bruno?"

"The lawyer representing the-"

"I do not care who he represents," I cut in. "And I do not want to know her name either. So you already knew about this arrangement?"

"It is strange to marry someone without even knowing who she is." I closed my eyes and drew in a breath. He understood exactly what that silence meant. "Eric warned me. I was only allowed to speak about it if someone else brought it up first. That meant he was gone."

"Then why was I never told?"

"You know how I operate. My loyalty to my clients comes first."

I let the matter go. Holding a grudge made no sense when discretion was exactly why I valued Guilherme's work in the first place. "Tell me the moment she signs."

"You'll hear from me immediately, Henry."

Time moved forward quietly after that. Guilherme handled everything related to the marriage without involving me further, and one day an envelope arrived containing the finalized certificate, already signed by her. A photograph had been included with the documents, but I left it untouched. Whoever she was, she was still just a woman to me. My focus remained fixed on one thing only. Finding out who was responsible for Eric's death.

I made arrangements for Sandra to live with her. She was the safest and most sensible option, and her presence would be good for the woman. Sandra had always known how to take care of people.

I returned to Italy afterward, and whenever business took me back to New York, I stayed at a different property I had purchased in another condominium.

Every so often, I met Sandra for coffee. She kept me informed without oversharing. Over the course of three years, the girl caused no problems. She preferred staying at home and performed exceptionally well in college. I knew because her grades were sent to me regularly. And much like me, she never once raised the topic of meeting face to face.

Despite the passing years, the truth about Eric remained out of reach. I chased down a few possibilities, but nothing ever solidified into answers.

Present day.

New York greeted me again after a long flight, and exhaustion settled into my bones the moment I landed.

I had barely stepped inside the house when I noticed someone waiting for me. Bruno, my wife's lawyer, was already there.

"What could possibly be so urgent that it could not wait?" I snapped. I had not even been home for ten minutes.

"I apologize, Mr. McNight," Bruno said, clearly uncomfortable. "But Mrs. McNight is asking for a divorce."

"What are you talking about? Has she lost her mind? There are still four years left before this arrangement ends."

"I understand, sir, but she claims-"

"I do not care what she claims," I cut in sharply. Granting a divorce was out of the question. I had too little information about what really happened to Eric, and I was not about to put my legacy or my family at risk.

Three years had passed since his death, and I was still empty handed. I had uncovered fragments, eliminated one infiltrator, but nothing close to the truth.

"She says she wants to marry someone else," Bruno sneered, forcing the words out.

"What? Who does she think she is?" My fist slammed into the table.

"She-"

"Fine. If she wants this damn divorce so badly, I will consider it." Bruno froze, clearly shocked. "But tell her this. I will only sign if she comes to me and asks in person."

"Sir, she refuses to meet you."

"The nerve of that woman." Disbelief burned through me. I never expected this kind of audacity, or betrayal, even if our marriage had never been real. Just hours earlier, I had left my private jet and the temporary company I allowed myself on those flights. I never let things linger long enough to become complicated. "That is my final condition."

I turned away the moment my last word left my mouth. Bruno muttered something under his breath, but I did not catch it and did not bother asking.

Fatigue hit me the second I reached my room. I stretched out on the bed, the long trip finally catching up with me.

My phone started ringing. I glanced at the screen and saw Thiago's name, a detective I had known for years.

"Everything alright, Henry?"

"Yes. What's the reason for the call?"

"So you made it back already?"

I had forgotten how quickly information traveled in this city.

"Did you forget what I do for a living? Being a detective has its perks. I find out whatever I want."

"Then let's catch up over a drink," I suggested.

"I can't. I'm scheduled for surgery first thing tomorrow."

I had known Thiago for years, long enough to know he never dropped news like that casually.

"Surgery? You should have told me."

"It's an emergency. I'll be out for months." He hesitated before continuing, "That's why I was thinking of putting you in charge of the precinct while I'm gone."

"Me?"

"Yes. We still don't know what really happened to Eric. I can't freeze the investigation, and I have no idea how long I'll be away." He exhaled slowly. "I'm tired of only removing infiltrators. Someone inside is feeding information, and they're doing it flawlessly."

"I know. That's exactly why I came back." Three years had passed since Eric died, and we were still grasping at shadows. Hendrick had done everything he could, but even he needed backup.

"I'll send you a full report. Cases, staff, everything. I already cleared it with my superior and sent him your resume."

"My resume?" I scoffed. "Does a Capo even have one?"

"Henry, you're the only person who can untangle this. While Hendrick was handling things alone, we barely moved forward."

"Hendrick is excellent," I replied, leaning back into the armchair. "I left him carrying a lot."

"Oh, and he loved your recommendations," Thiago added, laughing. "One more thing, though."

"What now?"

"You'll need to teach a class at Central University."

"Thiago, you're pushing it."

"They're civil law courses. You've always been good at that."

"Damn it," I muttered. Law had never been a passion. It had been a necessity. Someone had to understand the rules well enough to bend them when Thiago and Guilherme were unavailable. "Fine."

He chuckled. "Plus, there are some very attractive students."

We both laughed. Thiago had always been worse than me when it came to women.

"Send me the details."

"Already done."

"Then keep me informed."

"Always."

I ended the call and tossed my phone onto the table. A moment later, I poured myself a generous glass of whiskey at the bar and let the burn settle my nerves.

I had just landed in New York, and the problems were already stacking up.

After finishing my drink, I took a long bath, letting the tension drain away. My thoughts drifted, uninvited, to the woman who was legally my wife. I wondered what she was like now. Who she wanted to marry. I had never wanted to meet her face to face. When the papers were signed, she had been far too young, and I had always preferred women who understood the game and could keep up with me. The last thing I wanted was for an innocent woman to fall in love with a man like me.