Page 146 of The Professor's Wife

My tears slid silently into my hair.

I no longer knew whether I was crying for my life or for the part of me that was disappearing.

The oil lamp sputtered beside me, its weak flame pulling at the shadows in the corners. My eyes stung from the smoke and the endless pages of Seneca.

I had read the same words so many times they no longer felt printed on the page.

Oliver’s voice cut through the silence.

Calm.

Patient.

“Tell me,” he said. “Have you learned your lesson, or must I enlighten you further?”

I kept my gaze fixed on the book, though the letters blurred.

I knew what he wanted to hear.

“I’ve learned my lesson,” I whispered.

The answer came too easily.

For one sickening moment, I wondered whether I meant it. Whether I might have avoided all of this if I had shown more interest in his work. If I had kept my mouth shut. If I had remained the wife he believed he married.

I caught the thought and held on to it.

Looked at what it was.

It wasn’t mine.

He had put it there.

But knowing that didn’t make it disappear.

He had Rowe. He had the apology letters and everything I had told Dr. Carlisle. If I ran, he would use them. He would tell everyone I was unstable.

Violent.

Dangerous.

He would take my son.

I lifted my head and looked at Oliver.

I saw what he was capable of now. He could hurt me. He could hurt Rowe.

He could kill.

“I understand,” I said. My voice shook. “I’ll be your student.”

Oliver smiled faintly.

“I think you’ve earned some freedoms.”

My breath caught as he reached for the chain.

He unlocked the metal around my ankle, and the sudden absence of its weight felt almost as strange as wearing it. His fingers moved over the broken skin before he took my hand and tried to pull me upright.