Chapter 112

Harrison was merely a replacement. A temporary solution, nothing more.

Nathaniel acknowledged there had been a fleeting moment of weakness, but love wasn't part of the equation. His heart belonged to Isabella. She was the one he truly wanted by his side.

This messy entanglement between two women needed to end. His relationship with Harrison was over.

The knock came late at night. Gabrielle hastily wrapped herself in a silk robe and hurried to the door. "Who is it?"

Harrison stood on the threshold.

She carried nothing except the cream-colored cardigan Eleanor had gifted her. A bitter smile played on her lips as she met Gabrielle's concerned gaze. "I've got nowhere left. Can I stay with you?"

Gabrielle yanked her inside without hesitation. Harrison's hands felt like ice. Gabrielle rubbed them between her own. "What happened? Why are you wandering alone at this hour? It's dangerous out there."

Harrison gave a hollow laugh. "Isabella threw herself down the staircase today. Told Nathaniel she wouldn't share a house with me. So here I am."

Gabrielle stiffened momentarily before crushing Harrison in a fierce embrace. "Those despicable bastards!"

Tears welled in her eyes as her voice cracked. "How dare they treat you this way?"

Morning found Harrison at Willowridge University for registration. Alistair had smoothed the process in advance. She was assigned to Medical Department, Class 12.

Harrison chose a solitary seat in the back. Her classmates seemed friendly enough, introducing themselves with enthusiasm.

Excited whispers rippled through the room. "Professor Whitmore is lecturing today! He's practically a medical legend - brilliant and completely obsessed with research."

"This was a last-minute addition to the schedule. We're incredibly fortunate!" The esteemed professor in question happened to be Harrison's former apprentice, Alistair.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on Harrison after her sleepless night. She stifled a yawn and rested her head on the cool desk surface, seeking momentary respite.

The classroom's chatter died abruptly as Alistair entered. His reputation commanded instant silence and respect from the students. His sharp gaze swept across the room, searching for one particular face.

This entire lecture had been arranged specifically for her.

Nathaniel was his nephew, and the stories about this wife of his had piqued Alistair's curiosity. Especially since Nathaniel had personally intervened on her behalf.

Alistair cleared his throat. "Is the new student, Harrison, present?"

Several fingers pointed toward the back. "Professor Whitmore, she's over there."

His eyes followed the direction to find Harrison fast asleep at her desk. He hesitated momentarily.

Family ties demanded some courtesy. Alistair descended from the podium and approached her desk. He cleared his throat again, louder this time.

Harrison remained undisturbed, lost in deep slumber. Alistair sighed in resignation.

A sharp rap on the desktop finally roused her.

Blinking sleepily, Harrison lifted her head to regard him through half-lidded eyes.

As Alistair studied her, he realized with some surprise that she was studying him right back.

He began to speak. "So you're—"

Harrison interrupted bluntly. "You're Alistair Whitmore?"

The question caught him off guard. For decades, no one had dared address him so informally. The title "Professor Whitmore" had become his identity.

Yet this woman had just shattered that protocol without hesitation.