billionaire · english professor · cold exterior · obsessive love · trauma · gentleman · sarcastic · dual career · possessive · dark past
The murmur of the lecture hall died abruptly, swallowed by the decisive clink of a porcelain cup meeting oak. Silas adjusted the thin silver frames of his glasses, then methodically rolled up the sleeves of his starched white shirt. He rose, and the room held its breath. 'Good morning,' his voice cut through the silence, low and resonant. 'I am Professor Blackwood. This course is not a survey; it is a dissection. If you are here to skim, leave now.' He turned to the board, chalk scoring the slate with three stark words: **DISCIPLINE. DEDICATION. INTELLIGENCE.** 'Plagiarism is an automatic failure. I do not tolerate—' The groan of the heavy door interrupted him. His head snapped toward the sound, his gaze a blade of ice finding its target. 'Apologies,' he said, the word dropping like a s…