My Wickedly Charming Professor: Married On Paper, Obsessed In Class

Several years earlier...

"You are going to inherit everything from our McNight family," my father said, his voice steady and final. And just like that, my story began—not from Liz's eyes, but from mine.

"I can't do that. I'm only 15."

We stood inside the mafia headquarters, surrounded by men who treated his words like law.

"You do not get to wait," he replied after a long breath. "Your preparation starts now. This is your tutor. He will teach you how to protect our name and everything attached to it."

The man was impossibly tall, painfully thin, and completely bald. He looked more intimidating than reassuring.

My father had never been gentle. Affection had no place in his world. When my mother died, that truth only hardened. I was twelve when she passed away from a malignant tumor in her liver. By the time anyone realized what was wrong, there was nothing left to try.

Sandra was the only softness I knew. She had been my nanny for as long as I could remember, and when I was sent to New York, she came with me. She took care of me when no one else bothered to ask how I was holding up.

Our family name carried weight in the Italian mafia. I never wanted to lead it. Still, tradition did not leave room for refusal. The title was inherited, not earned, and eventually I accepted that fighting it was pointless. Instead, I trained my younger brother to run operations in my place. All he had to do was keep me informed and follow my directives.

"Henry, I will handle everything for you. But there is one condition."

"What condition, Hendrick?"

"When I get married, all of this becomes yours. From that moment on, you take control." He pointed toward the private room overlooking the building.

"By that time, I will need to prepare someone else to replace me."

"Why did you never say any of this to Dad?"

"You already know the answer. When something is passed down by blood, you do not argue with it. You accept it and move on."

Three years ago...

My history was cluttered with sins I kept buried. I never pulled a trigger myself, but I was the one who gave the orders, and that made me just as guilty. Control mattered to me. Things happened when I decided they would, especially when it came to women. I never learned how to charm anyone. If I wanted something, I took it. If a woman was married, money usually solved the problem. When it did not, my men handled it by buying off the husband or scaring him into silence.

It worked every time.

Over the years, I grew close to my mentor and eventually started calling him uncle, a title he accepted only after resisting it for a long time. His son was older than I was, and we trained side by side. Eric loved the mafia life. Travel excited him, and danger never seemed to faze him. I, on the other hand, built a different kind of power. I worked at a law firm in New York, managed its operations, and became the owner's right hand. Then, during one of Eric's trips, he was killed. The thought refused to leave my mind. Everything pointed to the German mafia sending a warning.

I chose to go back to New York and live as normally as possible. I believed that blending in was the only way I could uncover the truth behind Eric's death.

Not long after my return, a letter arrived with devastating news. The plane carrying the Andrade family had exploded midair. The timing unsettled me. Their deaths came first, and Eric's followed soon after. The pattern felt too deliberate to ignore.

Could the German mafia really be behind all of it? Eric had always avoided going into detail about the Andrade family, speaking in fragments and half truths, but now there was no running from the answers. Whatever he had been mixed up in, I was going to uncover it.

"My boy, you're finally home." Sandra stood waiting at the mansion entrance, her eyes soft with relief.

"I missed you too, Sandra," I murmured as I wrapped her in a tight embrace.

"Promise me you'll stay awhile this time. More than just a few days."

"I honestly don't know," I responded with a long sigh. "All I can think about is finding out what really happened to Eric."

"I still can't accept it," she said quietly as she walked beside me toward the office. "Do you think the Germans were involved?"

"I can't say yet. Before anything else, I need to understand what Eric was dealing with."

"There's something else," she added, hesitating. "A letter came for Eric. This one." She handed me a sheet of paper.

My brow furrowed as unease crept in. There was no sender listed anywhere.

I opened the envelope and unfolded the two pages inside, scanning the words slowly.

"Eric, if this letter has reached you, then we left this world sooner than planned. Fate was merciless, and we never had the chance to watch our little girl grow into a woman. Since life and business showed us no mercy, I trust you will honor our agreement. Protect my daughter. And if that is no longer possible, I hope this McNight man proves himself worthy in your place."

"What the hell is this?"

"What is it, my boy?"

I said nothing and reached for the second sheet tucked inside the envelope.

The document laid everything out with cold precision. If anything happened to the Andrade family, Eric was required to marry their daughter. Divorce would only be allowed after she finished college or once she turned 25. In the event of his death, he was obligated to name someone he trusted to take his place. If he failed to do so, his secret would be exposed to the media without hesitation.

Was this tied to the mafia somehow? What kind of dealings had Eric been involved in? And how deeply were the Andrades tangled in all of it?

My eyes stopped on one particular line, and my stomach tightened. He had named me as the trusted party. I could hardly believe he had dragged me into something this dangerous.

Walking away was not an option. I had no idea what secret Eric was protecting, and risking exposure could put the entire organization in danger.

"Sandra?"

"Yes, my boy?"

"Have you ever heard of the Andrade family?"

"Mr. Andrade used to visit from time to time. He and Eric were very close."

That only made things worse. Friendship did not align with threats and contracts like this.

"Did he ever mention having children?"

"He often joked that Eric should marry his daughter one day."

"Alright," I answered quietly, rubbing at my temples as the weight of it all settled in.

"Are you staying for dinner tonight?"

"I am not staying down here. I need time to think." I pressed a kiss to her forehead and headed upstairs.

Everything in my bedroom was exactly how I liked it. I always warned Sandra a day before arriving, and she never forgot a single detail. She was the only person who knew my habits that well, and she treated me less like an employer and more like family.

Once I closed the door, I reached for my phone and called Guilherme. If anyone could untangle what I was about to step into, it was him.

"Guilherme?"

"Henry, what unexpected trouble are you bringing me tonight?"

"I am getting married," I said flatly.

"You finally met the woman who did the impossible?" There was a pause, followed by laughter.

"This has nothing to do with love. It is business."

"Then explain."

"Something happened to Eric. I do not have all the details yet," I explained, exhaling slowly.

He waited, knowing there was more.

"I am supposed to marry Miss Andrade."

"Henry, where are you going with this? You know you cannot marry outside the mafia," he said after a long pause.

"I am the boss of all bosses. I decide how this works." I did not bother softening my tone. "There will be a marriage, but I want no attention, no press, no spectacle. I do not even want to meet her. We sign the papers, she signs them too, and that is it."

"Are you absolutely certain?"

"I am. Once the seven years are over, I will file for divorce."

"Alright. I will speak to Bruno."

"Who is Bruno?"

"The lawyer representing the—"

"I do not care who he represents," I cut in. "And I do not want to know her name either. So you already knew about this arrangement?"

"It is strange to marry someone without even knowing who she is." I closed my eyes and drew in a breath. He understood exactly what that silence meant. "Eric warned me. I was only allowed to speak about it if someone else brought it up first. That meant he was gone."

"Then why was I never told?"

"You know how I operate. My loyalty to my clients comes first."

I let the matter go. Holding a grudge made no sense when discretion was exactly why I valued Guilherme's work in the first place. "Tell me the moment she signs."

"You'll hear from me immediately, Henry."

Time moved forward quietly after that. Guilherme handled everything related to the marriage without involving me further, and one day an envelope arrived containing the finalized certificate, already signed by her. A photograph had been included with the documents, but I left it untouched. Whoever she was, she was still just a woman to me. My focus remained fixed on one thing only. Finding out who was responsible for Eric's death.

I made arrangements for Sandra to live with her. She was the safest and most sensible option, and her presence would be good for the woman. Sandra had always known how to take care of people.

I returned to Italy afterward, and whenever business took me back to New York, I stayed at a different property I had purchased in another condominium.

Every so often, I met Sandra for coffee. She kept me informed without oversharing. Over the course of three years, the girl caused no problems. She preferred staying at home and performed exceptionally well in college. I knew because her grades were sent to me regularly. And much like me, she never once raised the topic of meeting face to face.

Despite the passing years, the truth about Eric remained out of reach. I chased down a few possibilities, but nothing ever solidified into answers.

Present day.

New York greeted me again after a long flight, and exhaustion settled into my bones the moment I landed.

I had barely stepped inside the house when I noticed someone waiting for me. Bruno, my wife's lawyer, was already there.

"What could possibly be so urgent that it could not wait?" I snapped. I had not even been home for ten minutes.

"I apologize, Mr. McNight," Bruno said, clearly uncomfortable. "But Mrs. McNight is asking for a divorce."

"What are you talking about? Has she lost her mind? There are still four years left before this arrangement ends."

"I understand, sir, but she claims—"

"I do not care what she claims," I cut in sharply. Granting a divorce was out of the question. I had too little information about what really happened to Eric, and I was not about to put my legacy or my family at risk.

Three years had passed since his death, and I was still empty handed. I had uncovered fragments, eliminated one infiltrator, but nothing close to the truth.

"She says she wants to marry someone else," Bruno sneered, forcing the words out.

"What? Who does she think she is?" My fist slammed into the table.

"She—"

"Fine. If she wants this damn divorce so badly, I will consider it." Bruno froze, clearly shocked. "But tell her this. I will only sign if she comes to me and asks in person."

"Sir, she refuses to meet you."

"The nerve of that woman." Disbelief burned through me. I never expected this kind of audacity, or betrayal, even if our marriage had never been real. Just hours earlier, I had left my private jet and the temporary company I allowed myself on those flights. I never let things linger long enough to become complicated. "That is my final condition."

I turned away the moment my last word left my mouth. Bruno muttered something under his breath, but I did not catch it and did not bother asking.

Fatigue hit me the second I reached my room. I stretched out on the bed, the long trip finally catching up with me.

My phone started ringing. I glanced at the screen and saw Thiago's name, a detective I had known for years.

"Everything alright, Henry?"

"Yes. What's the reason for the call?"

"So you made it back already?"

I had forgotten how quickly information traveled in this city.

"Did you forget what I do for a living? Being a detective has its perks. I find out whatever I want."

"Then let's catch up over a drink," I suggested.

"I can't. I'm scheduled for surgery first thing tomorrow."

I had known Thiago for years, long enough to know he never dropped news like that casually.

"Surgery? You should have told me."

"It's an emergency. I'll be out for months." He hesitated before continuing, "That's why I was thinking of putting you in charge of the precinct while I'm gone."

"Me?"

"Yes. We still don't know what really happened to Eric. I can't freeze the investigation, and I have no idea how long I'll be away." He exhaled slowly. "I'm tired of only removing infiltrators. Someone inside is feeding information, and they're doing it flawlessly."

"I know. That's exactly why I came back." Three years had passed since Eric died, and we were still grasping at shadows. Hendrick had done everything he could, but even he needed backup.

"I'll send you a full report. Cases, staff, everything. I already cleared it with my superior and sent him your resume."

"My resume?" I scoffed. "Does a Capo even have one?"

"Henry, you're the only person who can untangle this. While Hendrick was handling things alone, we barely moved forward."

"Hendrick is excellent," I replied, leaning back into the armchair. "I left him carrying a lot."

"Oh, and he loved your recommendations," Thiago added, laughing. "One more thing, though."

"What now?"

"You'll need to teach a class at Central University."

"Thiago, you're pushing it."

"They're civil law courses. You've always been good at that."

"Damn it," I muttered. Law had never been a passion. It had been a necessity. Someone had to understand the rules well enough to bend them when Thiago and Guilherme were unavailable. "Fine."

He chuckled. "Plus, there are some very attractive students."

We both laughed. Thiago had always been worse than me when it came to women.

"Send me the details."

"Already done."

"Then keep me informed."

"Always."

I ended the call and tossed my phone onto the table. A moment later, I poured myself a generous glass of whiskey at the bar and let the burn settle my nerves.

I had just landed in New York, and the problems were already stacking up.

After finishing my drink, I took a long bath, letting the tension drain away. My thoughts drifted, uninvited, to the woman who was legally my wife. I wondered what she was like now. Who she wanted to marry. I had never wanted to meet her face to face. When the papers were signed, she had been far too young, and I had always preferred women who understood the game and could keep up with me. The last thing I wanted was for an innocent woman to fall in love with a man like me.