Livia

My jaw dropped, like literally.

The silence in the lecture hall was so deafening

This was our lecturer? This entire time, while I was sitting three feet away from him, judging his expensive shoes and assuming he was some trust-fund brat who found his way to this school, he was actually the man in charge?

A wave of embarrassment hit me hard.

 I had spent fifteen minutes eye-rolling his cologne and his "clean look," only to realize I was sitting next to Professor Sterling. 

"I will be covering for Prof. Johnson, who is currently... unavailable," he continued.

His voice was smooth but had a hint that suggested he didn't tolerate nonsense. 

"I expect everyone to continue taking this course seriously," he added, his gaze sweeping the room. "In fact, I will be significantly stricter regarding the quality of the work submitted. If you were looking for an easy credit, you are in the wrong room."

A low murmur began to spread through the hundred or so students. It was a mix of excitement and pure dread. Mr Sterling looked up with his cold, grey gaze, and the murmuring died instantly.

The next hour went by in a blur. Despite his intimidating presence, Mr. Sterling is, without a doubt, the most brilliant lecturer I have ever encountered in my three years of college. He didn't even read from slides like other lecturers did. 

He broke down complex theories and rebuilt them using real-world examples. Even the most boring topics felt so interesting under his guidance. I found myself scribbling notes so fast my wrist ached.

The second the lecture ended, I dashed out of the hall to a quiet area. My heart was thumping against my ribs as i kept thinking about the $70 per hour. It had to be real. It had to be.

I dialed the number. Ring. Ring. Ring. Voicemail.

I tried again, my fingers shaking as I hit redial and still nothing.

"What if this really is just some kind of scam?" I muttered, and leaned my head on the cold brick wall.

Of course it was. Who pays a college student three hundred and five bucks a night to watch a child? I gave a short, dry laugh. I couldn't believe I actually fell for this joke.

Roxy still wasn't picking up her calls, and I was more or less done for the day. With no other choice, I headed home.

If only it was actually a home to look forward to.

**************

"What do you mean by you didn't get the job?" my aunt demanded. She stood in the kitchen, and looked really pissed.

"I don't know, Aunt. I just didn't get it," I said, trying to brush past her toward the basement stairs. I hated when she did this; when she dragged out every conversation.

"They don't just refuse to give you a job, Livia. There is always a reason," she stated, stepping into my path. She wasn't letting me go that easily.

"Aunt, please," I pleaded, "I promise I will get something soon. I have sent my CV to five more places today, and i am positive I will get a call soon".

"Really?" She crossed her arms and leaned back on the doorframe with a sneer. "You think you can get a decent job with a body like that? Look at you. You're taking up half the hallway just standing there."

Her words stung hard but I didn't flinch. I was already used to this daily dose of cruelty. I wasn't even "fat" by medical standards. The worst part was that these words was coming from the only family I had left.

"Just make sure you don't go sleeping around," she spat. "Because that's what girls with your body type do."

"Aunt, are you seriously saying..."

"I am saying pay your part of the rent and the utility bills soon, because the deadline is in three days," she snapped, cutting me off. "I already have too much on my plate, and I cannot afford to have yours in the mix."

She gave me one last long, disgusted glare and walked out.

I released the air I didn't know I was holding all this time, the moment I entered my room. I threw myself onto the bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling. A million thoughts raced through my mind at that moment, all at once.

Just then, my phone began to vibrate. I reached into my bag and pulled it out with a groan.

"Took you long enough," I said the moment I answered.

"I am so sorrrrrry, Livvvvvv!" Roxy's voice squealed through the speaker.

"What happened, Rox? I waited for you and even called ten times after class."

"Yeah... but something came up, you know?" She said, but didn't sound truthful.

I rolled my eyes. "Something? Or someone?"

"Okay fine! You got me okay. Well...Ryan came over and we... well, we got busy."

"I don't want the details, Roxy," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. "But wait, isn't Ryan your ex? The one who cheated on you with your cousin? What are you doing with him?"

"You know how he is, Liv. He apologized! He said he wasn't in his right mind. I truly believe he is changed."

"So you just forgave him? Just like that?" My anger flared. "Roxy, that guy is a professional liar. This is the third time he is 'changed' this year."

"I know... I just ....really love him, okay?" she whispered.

"And that's what gives him the power to hurt you.

There was a small pause. " I hate to see you get hurt." 

 "Don't worry about me, I'm fine! Plus, the sex is super gooooood," she squealed, her mood flipping back to manic in a heartbeat.

"And again, I don't want to hear it. Anyway, we have a new professor. His name is..."

"Hold up, Liv, Ryan is calling my other line. I will see you at school tomorrow, okay? Love you, bye!"

Click.

Great. Abandoned for a cheating ex.

Just as i was about to stand up to take a shower, my phone rings again. I didn't even look at the screen this time.

"Roxy, at least let me finish a sentence before you hang up next time!" I snapped.

"This is not Roxy," a deep, masculine voice responded.

My pulse raced as I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at the screen. It wasn't Roxy. It was a number I didn't recognize-the number from the flyer.

"Who... who is this?" I stammered.

"You called me at 3:00 PM today. Twice," the voice said. He sounded cold and disturbingly familiar.

"3:00 PM... oh. Yes. I, uh... I called about the babysitting advert?" I tried to sound professional, but it came out as a shaky question.

There was a long, agonizing pause on the other end. I could hear the faint sound of typing.

"Meet me at the High Flyers office tomorrow at 12:00 noon," he said. "Bring every form of identification you have. Do not be late."

Without another word, he hung up.

I stared at the screen for two full minutes, my mind spinning. The High Flyers office? That was the exclusive, restricted wing of the university reserved only for the most elite senior faculty and visiting dignitaries.

My blood ran cold as I realized why the voice sounded so familiar.

I looked down at my notes from earlier today, my eyes landing on the name I had underlined three times in thick black ink: 

Professor Sterling.

Ronan

"Ronan, you barely come to the house anymore for our family dinners. Being a professor doesn't mean you won't have time to see your parents," my mother said with an intense voice. 

 "As I have always told you, Mother, I am very busy right now. Once I've cleared up my schedule, I will come visiting."I replied, matching her tone.

"That was the same response you gave last year, and the two years before that. I don't believe I raised you in this manner," she spat.

I paused. A dark memory floods my mind as I fight to stay focused on the present.

"Last year and the year before that were not the best years for me... and you know that," I said through gritted teeth. 

She sighed, with a weary disappointment. "I understand. We all do. At least let your father get to see his grandson every now and then."

"You know my rules, Mother," I state fully, my voice dropping. "I cannot send Ace over without me coming with him."

"But you can always use a maid to send him over. Or better still, I have a personal maid who can bring him over..."

"Mother." I infused the word with a slight warning. "I will bring Ace when I can. If you can't come over to see him, then this conversation is over."

Before she could fire back, i hung up. I dropped the pen in my hands and leaned back, pushing my head against the headrest. A small throb began to pulse at the corner of my temple.

A light, hesitant knock came on the door.

"Come in," I said, my voice barely rising above a whisper.

The door glided open, and Luxe, my secretary, walked in. She carried a pair of thick documents. "Sir, the list is ready. All in hard and soft copy, just as you requested."

I gave a small nod and began to scan the documents briefly, the text blurring slightly before my eyes adjusted. "Any calls regarding the advert put out?"

"The calls that came in did not fit.... the requirement you need, and so most of them were turned down."

"I see," I responded, my eyes tracking the data on the page.

"But..." she continued, her voice trailing off in a way that suggested she was weighing the risk of speaking. "I have a cousin who can do the job, sir. She's great with kids. And she's...."

"She has a cat. I said, finally looking up. My gaze pinned her to the spot. "And my son is allergic to cats."

Luxe's face drained of color instantly. 

"How did you...?"

"You spoke to the assistant director about her some time ago." My eyes fall back to the stack of documents before me. I turned a page, the crisp sound of paper echoing in the room. "I happened to hear it in passing."

"R...right..."

She turned to leave almost immediately

"Hold up," I called out. "Connect the number on the advert directly to me, this time."

"Of course, sir." She gave a small nod and hurried out, the door clicking shut behind her.

I checked my watch. 1:30 PM. I had a lecture in thirty minutes, a class I shouldn't even be teaching. Prof. Johnson's "unavailability" was a headache for the entire department. The Vice Chancellor had been vague, mentioning something about "wrong affairs" and a "dilemma" that sounded like a scandal waiting to explode.

 I love teaching, but babysitting college students was a chore I didn't have time for.

I entered lecture room 507 and took a seat at the far end, trying to do a small revision of my lecture notes. The hall was mostly empty, just a few shadows scattered toward the back rows.

As I worked, I felt an intense gaze of someone drilling a hole into the right side of my head. I kept my focus locked on the words glowing on my screen while my fingers moving over the trackpad.

At exactly 2:00 PM, my phone alarm buzzed against my thigh. I stood up and walked toward the front of the hall. There were maybe fifty to seventy students in total.

 As I scanned the room, taking note of the faces, my eyes landed on a young woman sitting near the front. The look of sheer surprise on her face was enough to confirm she was the one who had been staring.

"I am Ronan Sterling. I will be taking you on Altermodern henceforth," I said, trying to keep my voice calm, but with a firm edge that commanded the room to settle.

The silence was expected. Dozens of eyes, filled with a mix of confusion and curiosity, stared back at me.

"I will be covering for Prof. Johnson, who is currently... unavailable," I continued, my voice projecting easily to the back of the room. "I expect everyone to continue taking this course seriously. In fact, I will be significantly stricter regarding the quality of work submitted. If you were looking for an easy credit, you are in the wrong room."

I let the words hang in the air as i looked across the room to ensure everyone understood what i was saying.

 The moment I uttered my final sentence of the lecture, the lady in the front, the one who looked a bit chubby, practically leaped from her seat and bolted out of the hall.

I was surprised by the sudden exit, but my curiosity was cut short by a vibration in my pocket. A text message from Ace's school. It wasn't detailed, but the urgency was clear: my presence was needed. Now.

I moved quickly, exiting the hall and sliding into my car. As I drove toward the edge of campus, my phone rang. A number I didn't recognize. I ignored it but it rang again. 

I realized it could be someone from the advert but now was not the time.

I entered the principal's office to find the Chairman of the school waiting for me, which was an anomaly in itself.

"Mr. Sterling, how do you do?" he asked, offering a hand.

"Very well." I glanced around the room, noting the tension in the air. "Mr. Charles, care to explain why I am being summoned on such short notice?"

"My sincerest apologies, Mr. Sterling. We just had a little situation that we felt should be brought to your attention. But before that, please take a seat."

I sat, watching him with an intensity that made him shift in his chair.

"Mr. Sterling, without wasting your time, I will go straight to the point. Your son, Ace, has been demonstrating.....some serious signs of a rebellion."

My eyes narrowed. "How do you mean?"

"Right. Aside from the fact that he is withdrawn, which is common enough, he tends to push or unnecessarily cause harm to other children. This has raised questions about whether he is doing well at home."

I leaned forward, my gaze locking onto his. "Are you by any chance saying he doesn't have good support at home?"

"N...not exactly," he stammered. "Just that his behavior is unlikely for him. Based on our observations, it seems he needs more... attention and care. Not just physical presence, but emotional. It can go a long way for children his age."

I nodded, "I appreciate your concerns, Mr. Charles. I will do what I need to do. You do your job as well."

"Certainly," he said, looking visibly anxious to see me leave.

*****************

That night, i barely slept. Even the two glasses of wine I had didn't dull the edge of my thoughts. I couldn't take him to his mother, never again, not after the disaster of last time. And my mother? She had the patience of a lightning strike. I couldn't risk him with her.

I looked at my phone and noticed the missed call from earlier.

"Roxy, at least let me finish a sentence before you hang up next time!" a voice spat as soon as the line connected.

"This is not Roxy," I said, my voice cutting through her frustration.

"Who... who is this?" I could feel the sudden spike of fear in her tone.

"You called me at 3:00 PM today. Twice."

"3:00 PM... oh. Yes. I, uh... I called about the babysitting advert?"

I leaned back, calculation forming in my mind.

"Meet me at the High Flyers office tomorrow at 12:00 PM noon. Bring every form of identification you have. Do not be late."

I hung up without another word. I had stressed the time for a reason; if she couldn't even manage a simple appointment, there was no way she was getting near my son.

I picked up the file Luxe had left on my desk, flipping to the very back, where a single, unfiled photo from Prof. Johnson's "wrong affairs" investigation sat, and my heart stopped as I realized the girl in the photo was wearing the exact same unique necklace I had seen on the student who bolted out of my classroom that afternoon.