Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
ROSE
I spotted Damon the moment I joined my lab group at Professor Maxwell’s party.
He was by the bar with his signature cigarette in hand.
Amelie handed me a drink, and I knocked back the double vodka with club soda, trying not to stare at him.
Despite my best efforts, my gaze flicked back to him for the fiftieth time.
Amelie knew about my feelings and cornered me after my third drink of the night. Thankfully, Matt and Sean had left to grab us another round. “By the way you’re trying not to stare, I assume that’s Damon standing by the bar, not Professor Maxwell.”
“Oh, it’s Damon, all right.”
“They’re identical twins. I still don’t get how you can always tell them apart.”
I shrugged. “Professor Maxwell gave up smoking years ago. Plus, he doesn’t let his hair fall over his eyes like that.
” I nodded at Damon with his loose waves.
“It might compromise his vision during work. Everything about him has to be perfect, and that means not a hair is out of place. But most importantly, Professor Maxwell doesn’t have the patience for small talk.
He would never entertain people the way Damon is doing right now. ”
“Professor Maxwell told you all that?”
“No. I figured it out by watching him.”
“Oh.” She stared at me for a moment. “What do you like about him?”
My brows drew together. I hated it when people questioned Professor Maxwell’s qualities.
I had worked closely with him all semester and understood him implicitly.
Contrary to the rumors, he wasn’t a villain; he merely hated subpar work, and for good reason.
His research was a matter of life and death.
He was hard on us because the margin of error was low.
Currently, he was conducting a drug trial to create a non-addictive pain medication for patients recovering from surgeries and such.
His work could save forty million souls from opiate addiction and spare their families the agony of watching their loved ones suffer, the same way he had with his mother.
If only others could see through his tough exterior, they would change their minds about him.
To me, Professor Maxwell was the answer to all my prayers.
He offered me a job upon graduation, and thank God for it, because my father cut me off after discovering I had changed my major.
It happened last month. His name had flashed across my phone on a Friday evening.
He rarely called while away on business, so the moment I saw it, I had a sinking feeling about why he had made the exception.
“Hi, Papa,” I had answered his call softly.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he yelled on the other end of the line.
I pulled the phone away from my ear. My muteness had already been a decade-long problem, no need to turn me deaf as well.
The conversation only went downhill from there. He switched from English to Hindi, something he only did when his rage was through the roof.
“I just got off the phone with Chad. He called me to personally invite me to my daughter’s graduation. Imagine my surprise when I found out your ceremony would be held in the courtyard of the chemistry building.”
My fingers tightened around the phone. The dean sucked up to my father since he often made large donations to the university.
It never occurred to me that he might personally invite Papa to my graduation.
Each department at the university held a separate ceremony for their graduating class.
If I were still a finance major, my ceremony would have been at the business school ballroom.
It didn’t take long for my father to put two and two together; he was invited to the chemistry building’s courtyard because I changed my major.
“Papa… I?—”
“Chemistry? You changed your major to chemistry after I specifically forbade it?” His voice was like a whip, measured but laced with fury.
I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Papa. Finance wasn’t right for me. I-I wasn’t passionate about it at all?—”
“Passion?” His laugh was a low, bitter thing. “Passion is for children, Rose. When will you grow up? Don’t forget that you promised to join the family business after graduation.”
But I never promised anything. He spoke; I listened. Papa took that as my acquiescence.
My throat felt tight. “Please, Papa. I’m not good at investments. This is for the best?—”
“Enough.” The word cracked like a gunshot. “I’m your father, and I know what’s best for you, and that’s for you to join Ambani Corps like we discussed.”
I shook my head, though he couldn’t see me. Professor Maxwell had once told me, “If it doesn’t serve you, it ruins you.” Perhaps it was his guidance that gave me the strength to say, “No.”
One simple word turned the conversation on its head.
He was quiet for a moment, but I knew he was seething. “Very well. If you’re not going to keep your word, then you’ll do this without my help. Starting tomorrow, your cards will be frozen, your trust will be sealed, and I’ll make sure every graduate program knows exactly what you are—unreliable.”
My stomach dropped.
Dev Ambani was known to be a shrewd businessman, and he was just as much a hard-liner in his personal affairs.
I expected this reaction, but it still stung that my own father wanted to kill my hopes and dreams. He was going to blackball me from every graduate program.
A bachelor’s degree in chemistry wouldn’t get me far in this field, and he knew it, too.
At the very least, I needed a master’s degree—if not a PhD.
“Actions have consequences, Rose. You chose this path. You want independence? Congratulations. You’ve got it—cold, hard, and penniless.”
The room swayed a little.
“Call me when you’re ready to correct this mistake. Until then, you’re on your own.”
The line went dead before I could even breathe his name. I had stared at my silent phone for minutes, fingers numb, the cold edge of his voice still carved into my chest.
Since then, none of my credit cards had worked, my trust fund had been taken away, and the word had been spread not to accept me into a graduate program.
After Poppy found out what had happened, she sent me a stream of unsolicited payments through Venmo.
I hated relying on my younger cousin for money and vowed to pay her back every cent upon graduation.
If it wasn’t for Professor Maxwell’s pending job offer, that wouldn’t be a possibility, and my future would be in shreds.
Which was why I couldn’t stand it when people criticized him.
The worst thing he had ever done was force-feed me healthy meals and make me switch to raw honey and coconut sugar whenever I baked.
But if truth be told, limiting my sugar intake had reduced the inflammation of my scars, and I had never felt better.
Sure, he was a bit hot-tempered and kept everyone at a distance. But he was also the most brilliant man I had met. Geniuses didn’t fit molds. They thought outside the box, which was what made them remarkable.
At my prolonged silence, Amelie waved a hand in front of my face. “Hello! I asked you a question.”
I sighed.
“What do you like about him?” she repeated.
I lifted a shoulder. “The man’s a genius.”
“Um—”
I held up a hand. “I know people hate admitting it because they think he’s difficult. But I would be just as angry if I had half his talent and had to compromise on things because of the university.”
Amelie gave me a quizzical look. “What are you talking abo?—”
“He is misunderstood, but he isn’t a bad person,” I cut her off defiantly, not wanting to hear anything bad said about Professor Maxwell.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Amelie said slowly.
“I’m saying it’s frustrating that you don’t see what I like about him.
He isn’t a bad man just because he likes things done a certain way.
And think about it from his perspective.
He has to allow students with zero experience into his workspace and risk ruining everything he’s built.
I don’t blame Professor Maxwell for being hard on us. ”
Amelie stared at me with round eyes, shocked that I was defending Professor Maxwell so vehemently.
She opened her mouth for a rebuttal, but a giggle spilled out instead.
“Oh my god, you are talking about Professor Maxwell.” Her palm touched her forehead.
“I was asking what you liked about Damon, and you started talking about his twin instead.”
I blinked.
Her brows drew together slightly as she focused on my face. “I have never seen you so worked up before. If I didn’t know any better, I would think Professor Maxwell was the one you were in love with.”
My eyes glazed over, wide and unfocused, as if my brain had short-circuited mid-thought. I didn’t know how to respond and was grateful when she returned to her original question.
“Anyways, why do you like him? And by him , I mean Damon,” she specified as I flushed.
Amelie had asked me this question numerous times in hopes of talking me out of my one-sided romance.
She had repeatedly pointed out that I didn’t know anything substantial about Damon, that he wasn’t interested in me.
If I gave her my generic answer—I liked him because he was a philanthropist who founded charities for survivors of assault and det up suicide prevention hotlines—she would lecture me again.
She would tell me that he might be a nice person, but he was wrong for me, and she would plead for me to move on.
Believe me, I tried, but I didn’t have a choice in loving him.
Feeling brave after a few drinks, I decided on the truth. “When I was young, someone stabbed me a bunch of times outside my home.”
Amelie’s beautiful face turned ghostly white. She lowered her gaze. “I know. Poppy told me when we first moved in together.”