"Natural liberty concerns what we sacrifice for social order," Victor says from behind his podium, and I make sure he sees every purple bruise Kilian left on my throat last night.
Front row center, wearing my hickeys like medals of honor, I lean back in my chair and let my collar fall open. Victor’s eyes catch on my throat mid-sentence, and I watch him forget Rousseau existed.
"The social contract requires..." He stumbles, fingers gripping his notes. "It requires complete alienation of individual rights to the collective."
I mouth the word slowly, deliberately: Coward.
His jaw tightens, but he continues, voice rougher now.
"Rousseau argued that legitimate political authority comes from a social contract where each person surrenders their natural freedom for civil freedom protected by the collective will."
"But what happens when that contract is broken?" I ask, my voice cutting through the lecture hall. "When one party abandons their obligations out of self-preservation?"
The entire room turns to look at me.
But I keep my eyes locked on Victor's, watching him process my challenge.
"The contract dissolves," he responds. "Both parties return to their natural state—solitary, unprotected, free to make new arrangements."
"Even if those new arrangements are with someone worse?" I touch one of the bruises on my throat, making sure he sees the gesture. "Someone who at least honors their agreements, however twisted they might be?"
"Miss Valenti, perhaps we could discuss your theoretical questions during office hours."
"I thought you weren't offering those anymore, Professor."
Students exchange glances, sensing drama they don't understand.
Victor's knuckles are white against the podium.
"Class dismissed," he announces, even though we have twenty minutes left. "Read chapters fourteen through sixteen for Thursday."
Students scatter like startled birds. I stay seated, taking my time packing my bag while the room empties.
"Not you," Victor says when I finally stand. "We need to talk."
"Do we? Because last time you talked, you chose pretty clearly."
He waits until the last student leaves, then crosses to the door and locks it. The click echoes through the empty hall.
"Empty classroom three doors down," he says, voice clipped. "Now."
I follow him down the hallway. He opens the door to a smaller room. Once we're inside, he spins to face me.
"You went back to him?" The words come out broken, desperate. "After everything, you went back to Kilian?"
"At least he's honest about wanting to own me," I shoot back. "He doesn't fuck me on Tuesday then throw me away on Wednesday to protect his comfortable life."
"You don't understand—"
"I understand perfectly. You're a coward who can't handle the consequences of his choices. You wanted the thrill without the bill, the mistress without the mess."
"That's not—" He runs his hands through his hair, glasses sliding down his nose. "Christ, Elisa, you don't understand what's at stake."
"Your reputation? Your marriage? Your carefully constructed lie of a life?"
"Liv's future!" The words explode out of him, filling the small room. "Clara and I have a legal agreement. If either of us causes a scandal before Liv turns twenty-one, she loses everything."
I freeze, processing this information. "What are you talking about?"
"Remember in Montreal when I mentioned an expiration date? This is why. Her grandfather's will," Victor says, suddenly looking older, exhausted. "Clara's father. He was very specific about what he called 'moral turpitude.' If either parent brings scandal to the family before Liv reaches twenty-one, her trust fund gets donated to his alma mater. Her education fund, her future, everything she's supposed to inherit—gone."
"You knew this the whole time," I say, the words not a question but an indictment. "Every time you touched me, you knew what it could cost her."
"I thought we could be careful. God, I thought—"
"That's insane."
"Two more months, Elisa." He leans against a desk, shoulders slumping. "Just two more months and Liv gets everything. Her education, her independence, her freedom. But if this comes out now, she loses it all."
The anger drains out of me like water from a broken glass.
"You could've told me."
"Would it have mattered?" His eyes meet mine, grey and desperate. "Would you have walked away if you'd known?"
I want to claim I would have made the noble choice. But we both know I wouldn't have. I would have convinced myself we could be careful.
"So we just... stop?"
"We already did," Victor reminds me. "You walked out that door and we ended it."
"You ended it," I correct. "You chose them over me."
"I chose my daughter's future. If that makes me a coward, then fine. I'm a coward. But I won't be the reason Liv loses everything because I couldn't keep my hands off my student."
"Your student," I repeat, the word bitter. "That's all I ever was, wasn't it? Just another in your collection. Katherine, Rebecca, now me."
"You know that's not true."
"Do I? Because it looks like you got your fun and now you're done. Back to your dead marriage and your moral superiority while I'm left with—"
"With Kilian?" He moves closer, close enough that we're sharing air. "That's your solution? Go back to the man who tried to destroy you?"
"At least I know exactly what I'm getting with Kilian. But you? You made me believe in something different. Then you yanked it away the second things got complicated."
"Can't you understand?" He asks quietly.
"Liv already knows, Victor. She's not stupid," I say, stepping back. "But I won't be the reason she loses her inheritance. Just don't pretend this is noble. You're protecting yourself as much as her."
"Maybe I am," he admits. "Maybe I'm protecting all of us from the consequences of what we've done."
"What you've done," I correct. "I was just a student, remember?"
"That's not—" He reaches for me, but I step back again.
"Don't. Just don't. We're done. You made that very clear in Montreal."
"Elisa—"
The door opens. We both freeze.
It's Liv.
She stands in the doorway, looking between us with confusion that's rapidly morphing into suspicion. Her eyes take in my hickeys, Victor's proximity, the locked classroom door.
"Dad?" Her voice is small, uncertain. "Elisa? What are you doing here?"
The guilt hits like a truck, crushing everything in its path.
Here's Liv, my best friend, the girl who trusted me with her family's secrets while I was creating new ones.
"We were discussing my grade," I manage.