Part 1I Won’t Marry You If You Refuse To Let Me Graduate

After getting ripped to shreds by my advisor during our lab meeting, I sent my online boyfriend a thigh pic to cope.

[Do it for Mistress right now!]

I looked up.

My usually cold, stoic, and sharp-tongued advisor suddenly cleared his throat, his throat tight and the tips of his ears turning bright red.

Intrigued, I peeked at his phone screen.

Right there, clear as day, was the exact message I had just sent.

Oh my god.

I froze, utterly dumbfounded.

But my stupid, disobedient fingers had already dialed his number for a video call...

* * *

The buzzing of Kevin’s phone vibrated through the suffocating silence of our lab meeting.

I never, in my wildest dreams, would have guessed that my cold-blooded, ruthless advisor was the same online boyfriend who whined and called me "Mistress" in my DMs.

Kevin’s finger hovered over the screen.

My heart leaped into my throat.

Was he actually going to pick up?

Please, pick up.

Just do it.

Only ten minutes ago, he had publicly humiliated me, calling the fifth draft of my thesis complete garbage.

Once he realized I was his "Mistress," there was no way he would block my graduation.

Oh, thank god. There was hope for my degree after all.

I sat up straight, trying to look composed.

The next second, the call was declined.

My contact "6'1 Rich Idiot 8-Pack" (a nickname I gave him) sent a flurry of texts:

[Baby, I'm in a lab meeting. It's not convenient right now.]

[I'll call you later, okay? ~]

[Transfer: $5,200]

[Puppy loves you.gif]

I froze, the grin still plastered on my face.

Suddenly, Kevin’s sharp voice shattered my thoughts.

"Iris! What are you smirking at?"

I gasped, jerking my head up.

I met Kevin’s cold, piercing gaze.

He looked absolutely furious, staring at me with zero intention of saving my dignity.

"When you joined this department, you had no major research experience and barely any academic background. I didn't even want you in my lab. Your counselor practically begged me, saying you were a promising student with raw potential."

"And look at you now."

"Your experiments are a disaster, your writing is absolute nonsense, you don't contribute a single word in meetings, and now you're playing on your phone."

"Do you not want to graduate?"

Oh, no. I was in deep trouble.

My chest tightened with panic.

The other students held their breath, their eyes darting toward me in unison. Some looked sympathetic, others confused, and a few just seemed relieved it wasn't them.

I had always been a straight-A student, sailing through my undergraduate years on a sea of compliments from teachers and admiration from peers.

But ever since I started my master's program, I had lost count of how many times Kevin had torn me to pieces over everything from my thesis proposal to my drafts.

My face burned with shame.

Tears welled in my eyes.

But online, he was always so incredibly sweet to me.

He would baby me, begging for kisses and telling me how much he adored his mistress.

I tried to explain, my voice trembling violently from frustration and nerves.

"I... I was just texting my boyfriend. He's..."

"Nobody cares, and nobody wants to hear about your personal drama, Iris," Kevin cut me off coldly.

"If you can't separate your personal life from professional settings, you can request a transfer to another advisor. I won't supervise you anymore."

Kevin wasn't just the youngest tenured professor in the department. His father owned a massive publicly traded company and held significant shares in the university. If he refused to advise me, no other professor would dare take me in for fear of offending him.

I would be completely ruined.

The blood drained from my face.

After a long, agonizing pause, I managed to squeeze out a few words.

"I understand. It won't happen again."