The Professor's Double Life

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My thesis advisor is the coldest man on campus. Buttons his shirt to the very top. Has never once looked at a woman.

He's also the one who cries and calls me Master online. Who Venmos me a small fortune just for the privilege.

He just doesn't know it's me yet.

Ten minutes into him shredding my thesis in front of the entire research group, I slid down under the conference table and sent my online boyfriend a photo. Nothing wild. A bare stretch of thigh.

At the head of the table, mid-sentence, he stopped.

His phone had lit up. His throat moved. The tips of his ears went red.

I leaned out, just enough to see his screen.

My photo. The one I'd sent ten seconds ago.

Chapter 1

His phone buzzed into the dead silence of the meeting. And I still couldn't wrap my head around it. This man. My cold-blooded advisor, currently calling my thesis a pile of garbage in front of the entire group. He was the exact same man who sobbed and called me Master every night.

His finger moved toward the screen.

My heart shot into my throat.

Was he was he actually about to answer the video?

Answer it. Answer it. The second he sees I'm his Master, he'll never fail my thesis again. God. Finally. Your girl might actually graduate.

I sat up ramrod straight.

The call went dead.

The contact I'd saved as Rich Himbo, 6'1" lit up instead.

Rich Himbo, 6'1": [Baby, I'm in a meeting, I can't put on a show for you right now.]

Rich Himbo, 6'1": [I'll make it up to you later~]

Rich Himbo, 6'1": [Venmo: $7,000]

Rich Himbo, 6'1": [puppy loves you.jpg]

I froze, the grin still stuck on my face.

"Vivian."

His voice landed hard enough to make me flinch.

My head snapped up straight into a stare with absolutely nothing behind it.

He looked at me like I was something scraped off his shoe, and he didn't soften one syllable.

"You came in with no serious research, no real academic background. I never wanted you in this group. Your academic counselor pushed you on me. Swore you were worth developing."

A beat.

"And? Your experiments are a mess. Your writing is incoherent. You sit through every meeting saying nothing. And now you're on your phone."

"Do you actually want this degree, or not?"

Oh no. Oh no no no.

My pulse kicked against my ribs.

Around the table, nobody breathed. But every pair of eyes had swung to me. Pity. Confusion. The quiet relief of glad-it's-not-me.

I was the star my whole life. Top of every class, teachers glowing, classmates half in awe, straight through undergrad.

Then grad school started, and I lost count of how many times this man took me apart.

My face burned. Tears stung, waiting for permission.

And online online he was so soft with me. Baby, kiss kiss. Love you most, Master.

I tried to explain. My voice shook itself to pieces.

"I I was texting my boyfriend, my boyfriend is"

"Not one person here cares. Not one person wants to hear about you and your boyfriend."

He cut me off flat.

"Next time you can't tell a lab meeting from your group chat, don't waste my time or your own."

Here's the thing about Damien. Youngest thesis advisor this university has ever had. His father runs a publicly traded company and holds a seat on the board.

If he dropped me, no other advisor would dare take me. Nobody crosses him.

I'd be finished.

The cold sank all the way through me.

It took a long, stiff moment to push the words out.

"Understood. It won't happen again."

Head down. The perfect little student.

And that was when it landed, warm and dizzy right under the shame:

This man. This glacier, splitting me open in front of a room full of people who will never see me the same way again.

Tonight he'll be on his knees. Crying. Begging me for one more chance.

And he has no idea it's me.

Chapter 2

The second we cleared the building, Maya was on me, forehead creased with worry.

"Vivian. What were you doing, taking a video call from your boyfriend in the middle of a group meeting?"

Because I'd just found out my advisor was my online boyfriend, and for one shining second I'd been out of my mind about it.

Now that I'd had a minute, it was mostly just horrifying.

I checked over both shoulders. Nobody. I dropped my voice. "Do you think Professor Lu could be seeing someone online?"

Maya blinked. Then she laughed.

"Him? He's the department's untouchable ice prince. The man's allergic to women. No chance."

Then her face shifted, and she got serious.

"Wait. You didn't fall for one of those posts, did you? The ones where some girl who's failing her thesis 'reveals' she's secretly dating her advisor? Those are all engagement bait. Don't believe a word of it."

She lowered her voice. "He already can't stand you. Push him one more inch and you will not graduate."

Something dropped in my stomach.

I'd thought I'd hit the jackpot. Me, dating Damien.

But from where he was standing? I'd basically been tormenting him for months.

I made him call me Master. Made him wear a harness. Made him show off his abs.

And just now, I'd told him to put on a show.

God. The mortification. The sheer danger of it.

He could never, ever find out it was me.

I went for casual. "I was just curious. I'd never actually do that."

Maya relaxed.

I hadn't been back in my apartment ten minutes before he texted.

Him: [Baby, I'm free now. Can I put on a show for you?]

The thought of it. Damien, all cold contempt in daylight, shirt buttoned to the throat.

And in private, begging to peel out of his slacks for me.

The whiplash of it.

And he was my advisor.

Not a chance I was touching that.

Me: [No need.]

He panicked.

Him: [Why?]

Him: [Am I not doing it for you anymore?]

Him: [Are you mad I didn't say yes right away?]

Him: [That's why you didn't even cash me out.]

Him: [Baby, I messed up, I really messed up, I'm begging you. Just give me one chance.]

Then a video call, ringing.

My heart jerked with it.

Maybe it was how brutally he'd taken me apart an hour ago. But watching him grovel now was doing something to me. Hot. Greedy. I wanted more. I wanted to make him squirm, humiliate him, and then walk.

Then I looked at the $7,000 sitting in my account.

...Never mind.

Clock back in. Keep him on the line.

But the humiliation, I was keeping.

I answered. Camera dark on both ends, the way we always did it.

"Baby? Are you upset?"

That low, clean voice slid right into my ear.

I'd never once connected it to him before. Now it was unmistakable. Same voice. Exactly his.

I couldn't let him hear mine.

Me: [Not mad. Go ahead. I'm watching.]

He exhaled, all relief. His voice went light. Almost happy.

"Okay. I'm starting."

Chapter 3

I watched, wide-eyed, not blinking.

He reached for his belt

"Ah!"

The sound tore out of me before I could stop it. I flung my phone across the bed like it had scalded me.

Look, I talk a big game. I read my share of filth to take the edge off a long day.

But this was the first time in all my twenty-four years I'd seen a man's and not just any man's. His.

It rattled me down to the bone.

Worry threaded through his voice. "Baby? What's wrong?"

"Did I did I scare you?"

I pressed both palms to my burning face and killed the call.

Then, very deliberately, I typed.

Me: [You underdeveloped or something?]

Him: [?]

Me: [The love interests in novels are all packing like a foot.]

Him: [A foot of what?]

Me: [Use your imagination.]

Him: [......]

Him: [Novels make everything up. Eight inches is already very impressive.]

Him: [Honestly, I worry you wouldn't be able to take it (embarrassed.jpg)]

This shameless little dog.

My face climbed a few more degrees.

Me: [You're right. I couldn't take it.]

Me: [You're too old.]

Me: [I like them young. I like pink.]

Me: [Maybe I'll go find myself a younger boyfriend.]

He was thirty. That one was built to land.

And land it did.

A video call lit up my screen on the spot. When I let it ring out, a voice message came through, frantic.

"Baby, you can't go find some other man."

"Whatever color you want, whatever shape. I'll get the surgery. I'll make it happen."

"Please."

"You can't stop wanting me."

"Master."

His voice cracked on the last word.

Music to my ears.

I was deeply, thoroughly satisfied.

I still had a thesis to rewrite, so I decided to twist the knife.

Me: [Depends how well you behave.]

Me: [I'm busy now.]

Panic set in fast.

Him: [Busy with what? Is there anything I can do to help?]

Oh, there was so much he could do. I just didn't dare say it.

Me: [Something I wrote got called garbage. Now I have to redo the whole thing.]

His heart shattered for me on the spot.

Him: [Whoever said that has no taste. Sounds like actual trash.]

...Huh.

He was insulting himself.

The laugh jumped out before I could catch it.

Him: [Baby, send me the address. I'll go to bat for you. I'll have them apologizing on their knees.]

Please. He was so obviously angling to get me in the same room.

Off he went, my sweet, savage puppy, ready to storm down there and demand an apology on my behalf.

From himself.

Chapter 4

We met through my livestream.

I run a faceless sleep channel. Whispered stories, rain on a window, that kind of thing. The camera never once turned on me. He was one of my subscribers.

Here's what nobody knew. My parents thought a graduate degree was a waste of good money. Their whole plan for me was simple: get out into the real world, stand on my own two feet, the sooner the better. So I was in grad school in secret.

Which meant I covered tuition and rent myself. I'd taken a place off-campus, too, because a dorm would've blown my cover inside a week.

I was broke. Bone-deep, count-every-dollar broke.

So once I clocked that this particular subscriber was rich, and completely gone over me, I started reeling him in.

I'd ghost his DMs. Go dark for days. Tell him I was booked with private clients.

And every single time, he'd Venmo me just to buy his way back into my attention.

I'd play it cool.

Me: [Plenty of people are bidding higher than you. Why should I say yes?]

Him: [Then tell me what you want.]

Me: [I want my own obedient little puppy. The kind that calls me Master.]

He went cold on me.

Him: [Fine.]

Great. Overplayed it.

Then:

Him: [Want me to put my body to work? Want to see the eight-pack?]

Eight-pack, huh.

I figured he'd fob me off with some picture pulled off the internet. Honestly, I'd have taken a stock photo.

Me: [Sure.]

A voice message came through instead. Low. Rough. Built for exactly this.

"I only show my girlfriend."

"Be my girlfriend, and there's nothing I won't do for you."

And that was that. Official.

Except I was only ever clocking in for the paycheck. To keep myself safe, we set two rules. No faces. No real names.

Because who on earth could have guessed that my whimpering, wallet-open, calls-me-Master puppy was him.

Damien.

Chapter 5

I played it up, all mock-annoyance.

Me: [Scared you'll show me something ugly.]

Me: [Don't you dare come over.]

Me: [Leave me alone today or I'm blocking you.]

Sure enough, he went quiet.

I collected my money and set the phone down.

But the second it ticked past midnight, like he'd been sitting there watching the clock, a voice message came through. He was crying.

"Baby, it's a new day."

"Are you asleep?"

"Whatever you don't like about me, I'll change it. Any of it."

"I'm going to marry you."

"Please don't stop wanting me."

"A Master doesn't get to abandon her puppy."

"Master. Please. Just send me one message back."

...

I was still up, still grinding through revisions on the thesis due to him in the morning, with a solid gut full of resentment.

Then he cried about wanting to marry me.

It hit like a sugar-coated bullet.

Something under my ribs went soft, and half the resentment just drained out.

Me: [Am I really that important to you?]

His voice came back hoarse. And strangely, absolutely certain.

"So important."

"You're the light that keeps my whole life lit."

"These two years with you, I've been happy every single day."

"You matter more to me than my own life."

"Let's meet. Let's get married. Let me take care of you for the rest of yours."

My ears went hot. Everything under my ribs turned soft and useless.

Sure, in daylight he was cold and cutting and cruel, a genuine tragedy of a beautiful face wired to a vicious mouth.

But his face. His money. What he was capable of. And now this, soft and clingy and mine.

I was making out like an absolute bandit.

Me: [Okay, okay. Let's revisit the meeting thing in June.]

Translation: I'd meet him once I had my degree in hand.

He was over the moon.

The next morning I showed up at his office right on time.

He was frowning at his screen.

"You're certain you revised this according to my notes?"

My stomach dropped. I leaned in to look. "Yes. Is it wrong again?"

His face was cold, the pressure rolling off him low enough to flatten a room.

I twisted the hem of my shirt.

"...I'll fix it and resend? But I don't think I... can."

He flicked a glance at me.

"Have some faith in yourself. Think of it as the universe testing you. A little hardship before the reward."

I blinked. Damien, comforting me? The venom just gone?

Was it the meeting? Was he handing out kindness to the whole world because he wanted to see me?

The little flicker of happiness didn't even get to spread.

"Then again," he said, "the universe seems to have you confused with a mule at a mill. All this grinding."

Me: "..." (embarrassed.jpg)

He tapped his mouse at a spot on the document.

"And what's this? Did you have AI write it?"

"No. I wrote it myself."

"You wrote this yourself."

He let out a thin scoff, his voice cold enough to leave a mark.

"Bring me work like this again and there's nothing to advance. This isn't ready for review. It's not close, and you know it."

A long, flat ring went off in my skull.

I was already carrying more than I could hold. Secretly in grad school, hiding it from my parents. If I didn't walk out with that degree, three years of my life were gone. What was I supposed to say to myself? To them?

And last night this man swore he'd have my back. Now he was the one driving me out of my mind.

It felt like he'd slipped a knife in under my ribs. It hurt so much it was almost funny.

Actually, no. I just broke.

I slammed both hands down on his desk.

"Damien. You're seriously going to let your own wife fail out?"

Chapter 6