Trapped By My Possessive Billionaire Ex

Keeley stood up from her seat. She took a deep breath, her brain working in overdrive, and managed to stumble through the correct logic for the algorithm. A flash of genuine appreciation crossed Holland's eyes, but his face remained a mask of ice. "Barely a passing grade," he said coldly. The bell finally rang. The entire class let out a collective sigh of relief and began packing their bags. Holland stood at the podium, leaned into the microphone, and calmly announced, "Ms. Jackson, come to the TA's office after class." The students around Keeley shot her looks of deep pity, silently wishing her luck. Keeley clenched her jaw. She forced herself to walk through the crowded hallway toward the isolated office at the very end. She raised her hand, hesitated for a second, and pushed open the frosted glass door. Holland had already taken off his suit jacket. Wearing only a tailored vest over his shirt, he sat behind a cramped, standard-issue metal desk inside the small, shared teaching assistant cubicle. Yet, despite the incredibly modest surroundings, his overwhelming presence made the tiny room feel like a suffocating interrogation chamber. He lifted his chin, gesturing to the leather guest chair opposite him, telling her to sit. Keeley coldly refused. Standing her ground like a hedgehog with all its spikes raised, she maintained a defensive posture, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Holland didn't push it. He suddenly pulled open a drawer and took out a sleek, temperature-controlled container. He pushed it to the edge of the desk and popped the lid open with a sharp click. Inside was the signature sandwich and black coffee from the exact cafe she was supposed to check in at this morning. The smell of food instantly filled the room. Keeley's starving stomach gave a pathetic, involuntary clench. Holland leaned back in his chair. He coldly pointed out her blatant violation of their agreement this morning. Keeley's eyes turned red. She snapped back that he had absolutely no right to interfere with her private life like she was his prisoner. Holland's eyes went pitch black. He suddenly stood up, his massive frame easily bypassing the small metal desk, and took large, predatory steps toward her. Keeley instinctively backed up, but he kept coming until her back slammed hard against the cold wall. Holland planted both hands on the wall beside her head, caging her in. He lowered his head until his nose was almost touching hers. "Since you can't even take care of yourself," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave, "I have no choice but to supervise you personally." The overwhelming scent of male pheromones made Keeley's heart hammer against her ribs. She turned her head away, desperate to escape his gravity. Holland suddenly took a step back, ending the suffocating physical pressure. His demeanor shifted instantly. He walked back to the desk, picked up a thick, heavy manila envelope stamped with a 'CONFIDENTIAL' seal, and returned to her. He shoved the envelope forcefully into Keeley's chest, his tone returning to a cold, businesslike edge. He announced that this was the unreleased core data sets and internal materials for the upcoming national top-tier programming competition. Keeley stared at the envelope in shock. She knew exactly how fatal this material was—it was the golden ticket to her grad school application and her dream internship. Using the flawless excuse of "academic guidance," Holland was forcing this priceless resource into her hands. He looked down at her with cold eyes. "If you want to get rid of me, use your skills to prove you don't need anyone's help." Clutching the heavy envelope, Keeley's mind was torn apart by the violent struggle between her pride and her desperate reality. Watching her conflicted, wavering eyes, the corner of Holland's mouth curled into the satisfied smile of a hunter who had just closed the trap.