Professor, Your Brother Dumped Me

Julian Wright thought his "rose ceremony" tonight was locked down tight.

He'd warned his fraternity brothers a dozen times not to breathe a word to me, but he'd forgotten that in this circle, gossip travels faster than cheap beer. I'd gotten wind of it hours ago.

At least half the people here tonight were holding their breath, waiting for a spectacle.

After all, my usual shameless groveling to Julian was no secret—everyone assumed that without this benefactor paying my tuition, I, the scholarship kid from nowhere, couldn't survive.

They'd even been placing bets on whether I'd burst out of the room sobbing hysterically or go straight to the roof to throw myself off.

To them, watching me completely fall apart was the real finale of the party.

Too bad for them, the climax they were waiting for never came. When Julian handed the rose to campus queen Chloe Miller, when the confetti fell and music swelled, the main hall door remained firmly shut.

Without me barging in to cause a scene, the atmosphere in the hall deflated like a punctured balloon.

The crowd, robbed of their entertainment, began whispering among themselves with disappointed mutters.

This instantly wiped the victor's grin off Julian's face. One arm around Chloe's waist, he irritably pulled out his phone with his free hand and glanced at the screen.

Nothing. No missed calls, no long accusatory texts. His jaw clenched tight.

Not getting his show—not seeing me break down—that stung worse than any insult.

To mask his bruised ego, he whirled around and bellowed at the DJ booth: "All champagne's on the house tonight! Put it on my tab!"

The crowd erupted in deafening cheers.

That's when I descended slowly from the shadows of the second-floor spiral staircase, stilettos echoing against marble.

Someone below immediately wolf-whistled, calling out gleefully: "Look! The show's not over yet!"

"That gold digger definitely couldn't stay away—she's probably gonna give us a crying performance!"

Julian spun around at the commotion. When he saw it was me, the irritation vanished from his face instantly, replaced by that smug look that said he'd been expecting this all along.

I ignored the hungry stares around me, walked straight through the crowd, and stopped in front of him.

"Amanda," Julian's chin lifted slightly, deliberately pulling Chloe closer, playing the magnanimous benefactor. "Since you've seen everything, don't blame me. You know how these things work—it's just a game. Don't take it personally."

He paused, then continued in that tone of gracious charity: "And don't feel wronged. Move out quietly, and I'll still cover next week's bills. Keep your head down, and you can always come find me when you need something."

Then he lowered his voice, his tone sharpening: "Take the hint while I'm being nice. Grab whatever I'm offering and get out. Don't embarrass yourself here."

"Julian." I cut him off, not retreating but stepping half a step closer instead.

His brow furrowed reflexively, jaw tightening: "Amanda, don't start—"

I pulled my lips into a cold smile, reached into my pocket, and pulled out that black Amex he'd given me like some prize, holding it up between us: "Don't flatter yourself. I'm here to settle up."

Seeing the card, Julian's expression shifted: "What the hell are you playing at?"

"Take your card back. I'm done being your charity case." My voice was flat, emotionless.

Julian's breathing grew heavier. Having his power challenged so publicly made his face darken completely as he sneered through gritted teeth:

"Playing proud now, are we? The credit limit on that thing is pocket change to me. You don't want it? Fine—toss it."

Before he could finish, I raised my hand and, without hesitation, threw that expensive black card along with the keys to our shared apartment straight into the roaring fireplace nearby.

Two metallic clangs.

The sharp sound of metal hitting brick cut through the music, and leaping flames swallowed them instantly.

"All that dirty money you spent on me? Hope it burns just as well."

With those words, I turned around and walked straight toward the exit without looking back.

Though I'd already walked away, I knew Julian behind me had to be red-faced, feeling that slap across his ego.

A friend beside him immediately tried to save face: "Forget her, Julian! She's just putting on a show. Wait two days—she'll come crawling back when reality hits."

"Exactly! Bet by tomorrow morning we'll see her digging through those ashes!" another voice laughed.

Julian forced out a dismissive snort, gradually smoothing his expression into something condescending and mocking:

"Let her throw her tantrum. Don't let one drama queen ruin the night."

He turned his attention back to Chloe's pretty face, immediately dismissing the whole incident.

In his mind, when the debt collectors showed up at my door tomorrow, I'd still end up on my knees begging him to take me back. Over the years, he'd grown numb to my theatrics.

I shoved the door open hard. Outside, freezing rain had started falling. I didn't bother with an umbrella, letting the bone-chilling wind and rain batter me.

The icy water kept me brutally clear-headed, my mind flooded with suffocating memories from before.

On this same night in my previous life, when Julian handed that rose to someone else, I'd made a scene.

I'd even grabbed broken glass and pressed it to my wrist, trying to manipulate him with threats of suicide. In the end, I became a campus joke, and Julian, finding me too embarrassing, stayed at the hospital barely five minutes before walking out for good.

And because of how decisively he'd cut me off, my parasitic parents saw I'd lost my meal ticket and didn't hesitate to force me to drop out, selling me off to loan sharks to cover their debts.

From that day on, my life nosedived. Eventually, I died in a stinking basement, alone and forgotten.

After I died, even my mother refused to show her face. The one who finally stepped into that room to collect my body, expression unreadable, was someone I'd always kept at arm's length—the cold, unapproachable Professor Vincent Wright, Julian's half-brother.

How bitterly ironic. Vincent, acting as some distant brother figure, handled my corpse, while Julian, the one who'd shoved me into that abyss, was at that very moment wrapped up in his new romance, partying on a yacht with his latest conquest. From beginning to end, he never appeared.

That suffocating feeling before death still seemed to grip my throat. If I hadn't gotten this second chance, if I hadn't lived through this nightmare before, tonight I would've walked straight back into that same trap.

I closed my eyes, feeling the vivid pounding in my chest. Thank God I'd finally broken the cycle.