It was The Masked Stranger. Specifically, Chapter 12—the scene in the VIP room.
My heart stopped. Professor Adrian Black, the man who terrified the entire law faculty, was reading erotica? And not just any erotica... he was reading my bestseller.
"You like to read?" I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
Adrian snapped his head up. He quickly clicked the button to turn off the screen, but he wasn't fast enough. I had seen it.
He narrowed his eyes at me. "Do not spy on me, Miss Lin."
"I wasn't spying! I just... I didn't peg you for a romance reader," I said, a nervous giggle escaping my lips.
He placed the tablet down, his hand resting protectively over it.
"It is not 'romance'," he corrected, his voice defensive. "It is a psychological study. The author... Velvet Rose... she captures human desperation in a way that is quite rare."
I stared at him. My mouth went dry. He likes my writing?
He walked around the desk, closing the distance between us again. He looked at me with disdain, comparing me to the woman he thought wrote the book.
"You could learn a lot from her," he said softly, looking deep into my eyes. "This author understands passion. She understands surrender. She writes with fire."
He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers brushed my skin, sending a jolt of electricity down my spine.
"Unlike you, Maya," he whispered. "You are just a terrified little girl pretending to know things she doesn't understand."
He pulled his hand back, leaving my skin burning.
"Go home," he dismissed me abruptly. "It's 10 PM. We continue tomorrow."
I stood there for a second, my hands clenched into fists. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him that I was the one who wrote the words that captivated him.
But I couldn't.
"Goodnight, Professor," I said, my voice tight.
I grabbed my bag and walked out of the study. I forced myself to walk calmly until the heavy front door clicked shut behind me.
Only then did I let out a breath.
I walked down the long driveway, the gravel crunching under my sneakers. When I reached the massive iron gates, I paused and looked back.
The house loomed like a fortress. Through the large window of the study, I could see his silhouette standing still, looking down at something in his hands.
He looked lonely. Powerful, but lonely.
I shook my head. Don't feel sorry for him, Maya. He's a monster.
I turned away and began the trek.
The nearest bus stop was a twenty-minute walk away, down the winding hill that separated the wealthy estates of Sterling City from the rest of us. There were no sidewalks here—rich people didn't walk. I hugged my cardigan tighter around me, sticking to the grass verge as expensive cars occasionally zoomed past, blinding me with their headlights.
By the time I reached the main road, my feet hurt and I was shivering. Ideally, the bus stop was just a pole under a flickering streetlamp.
I collapsed onto the curb to wait.
Buzz.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. A notification from the InkStory app.
New Comment on "The Masked Stranger" - Chapter 12.
I sighed. Usually, I didn't check comments right after a stressful day, but I needed a win. I needed to be reminded that I wasn't just a "terrified little girl." To my readers, I was a queen.
I opened the app. The comment was from one of my most loyal readers.
User: Titan_X
Comment: "The way you describe the tension in this scene is visceral. Most authors write about sex, but you write about the power dynamic behind it. It feels... personal. Keep writing, Velvet Rose. You have a rare gift."
A small smile touched my lips, warming me more than my cardigan could.
Titan_X. He had been commenting for months. He was critical, intelligent, and always seemed to understand exactly what I was trying to convey. He respected my mind—unlike the man inside that mansion up the hill.
I typed a quick reply:
Replying to Titan_X: "Thank you. Sometimes, it feels like my characters are the only ones who truly understand me. Your support means everything tonight."
I hit send just as the bus rattled around the corner, its brakes screeching.
I climbed aboard, holding my phone tight, grateful for the stranger online who treated me with kindness.
I had no idea that a mile away, in a study that smelled of whiskey and sandalwood, Adrian Black was reading my reply, a rare, soft smile playing on his lips.