Page 74 of When Hearts Collide
Looking around the classroom and seeing no raised hands, I speak up. “There’s an inherent imbalance of power in the alleged relationship, and the damage to the reputations of both the professor and the student will be severe if the committee rules against them. As advisers, we should do our best to ensure all facts checked out, no rocks are left unturned, and there’s unequivocal evidence of guilt before we recommend our position to the Ethics Committee.”
I clear my throat. “This might seem like a waste of time when everything seems to point in one direction, but that doesn’t mean we get to shortcut the entire process. We owe it to Professor Archer and Tammy to do our due diligence.”
Pete snorts and waves his hand in dismissal. “It’s easy for you to say, Millie. You are a shoo-in for passing this class with your connections and everything. The rest of us actually have to study and go through the normal process of applying and waiting for PhD program acceptances.”
Fred stiffens next to me and Chloe mutters, “What the fuck,” under her breath.
My hackles rise and I clench my jaw. “What are you trying to say, Pete? I’ve earned my academic standing and my early admissions to PhD programs result from my hard work, and those acceptances can easily be rescinded if I don’t work my ass off like everyone here.”
He rolls his eyes, his lips flattening with displeasure. “Come on, Millie. We live in the real world. I mean, that’s what Professor Anderson has been preparing us for, right?”
I sneak a glance over at Ryland, finding his hands behind his back, his muscular forearms straining against his white dress shirt, his lips twitching into something resembling a snarl.
Pete mutters, “You’re telling me being the sister of Adrian Scott won’t make a difference how others treat you and your acceptances into the top programs?”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, everyone knows. You want to talk about ethics? Now, that’s an ethical violation right there.”
The students gasp around me. Chloe shoots to a standing position and points her fingers at Pete. “You asshole. Millie works harder than any of us.”
My face erupts in flames as the classroom breaks into chaos. Memories of Lloyd force themselves into my mind. The greedy glint of his eyes when I told him Adrian was my brother. How he’d magically appear at my side whenever I spoke with Adrian on the phone, or how he’d insist on coming with me whenever I met up with Adrian, only to be furious when I rejected him. How he broke up with me because I wouldn’t ask Adrian to give him a loan to pay off his credit card debts.
This is what I’m afraid of. Everyone seeing me as billionaire Adrian Scott’s younger sister, instead of Millie Callahan. Everyone scrutinizing my achievements under a microscope because of my brother.
My hands clench the edges of the tabletop, a firestorm of fury racing inside me.
“I’m proud of my brother and his achievements, but my successes are my own,” I grit out under my breath.
Pete snickers and a few of his friends laugh alongside him. “It must be wonderful to be naïve. If only the rest of us had the same privilege. I just found out I didn’t get into the PhD program at Cornell because they only take one student from NYUC and I know you got that spot, you b—”
Slam!
The loud sound of textbooks thrown against the table reverberates in the classroom like a shockwave, abruptly silencing Pete and all the furtive whispers in the room. We turn toward the disturbance.
Ryland towers over his desk, a stack of books scattered over the table and on the floors. A muscle twitches rapidly in his jaw as his dark eyes shoot daggers at Pete, who slowly cowers under his withering gaze.
“This behavior is why you didn’t get into Cornell, Mr. Crosby. Not Millie, not anything or anyone else. If you had spent more time studying and working hard instead of forming conspiracy theories and being a general fucking jackass, perhaps you would’ve had a shot.”
He walks away from his desk, his steps slow and measured, a lion slowly approaching his next meal. I shudder at the fury rolling off of him in heavy waves and Pete hiccups in his seat. Ryland towers over Pete and leans down, not stopping until he’s a few inches away from his face. I try and fail to ignore the tiny flutters in my stomach as I see him come to my defense.
His voice is low and hoarse, the violence barely concealed within. “Ms. Callahan is a brilliant student, her work speaks for itself, and I don’t need to fucking pander to Adrian Scott or to any billionaire because I’m a fucking billionaire myself. If you have a problem with her or with the way this class is run, you come to me. You don’t speak to her. You don’t look at her. You don’t fucking spread rumors about her. Am I making myself clear?”
Those tiny flutters are now a large swarm, flapping wildly and wreaking havoc inside me. My breathing quickens and I feel Chloe putting her hand over mine and giving me a squeeze of support, but I barely notice.
I only see him. My avenging warrior.
He can ignore me for all he wants and pretend everything that occurred between us never happened, but this…this magnificent display of emotion tells me everything I need to know.
Ryland’s eyes dart to mine and he holds my gaze. My fingers tremble as I press them against my lips and swallow the ball forming in my throat. Words want to escape my throat, but I can’t say them here in front of everyone. A burning sensation appears behind my eyes and wetness prickles my vision.
His nostrils flare and his eyes flash, darkening into swirling midnight pools of tar before he turns back to Pete. Ryland’s hands are fisted on his desk, clearly trying to restrain himself from physically reaching over and hauling Pete up by the collar of his shirt.
“Am. I. Making. Myself. Clear?”
Pete physically shakes underneath his withering glare and nods. “Y-Yes, Professor.”
“Now, apologize to Ms. Callahan and the rest of the class for this immature disturbance,” Ryland barks.
Pete jumps in his seat and turns toward us. His eyes are downcast as they briefly skate over me to the rest of the room.
