Page 40 of Stalk Me

He shakes his head. "No one would?—"

"Hear me out, Professor. Your career and your reputation are everything to you. It can remain intact as long as you do exactly as I tell you to do."

"You won't get away with?—"

"Your reaction pretty much tells me I will." I get dressed and then pick up my phone to show him that I recorded the entire thing. I tap a few places on the screen. "There. You can listen later."

He tucks his now softening cock back into his pants, doing up the zipper and button at a staggering pace. His entire body seems to deflate as he sinks back into his chair. "What do you want?"

I stop the recording and slip my phone back into my pocket. The threat is clear without being explicitly stated. "I told you. I need your help."

"With what?" There's defeat in his voice now, mixed with something else—resignation maybe or recognition of a game he's seen played before.

"I need access to some files. Emails, specifically."

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this. "Whose emails?"

"My parents'."

A humorless laugh escapes him. "You want me to hack into private email accounts? That's not just unethical—it's illegal."

"So is what happened between us." I maintain eye contact, letting the false accusation hang in the air between us. "At least that's how administration will see it when they get my recording."

"This is blackmail," he whispers, the words barely audible.

"I prefer to think of it as leverage." I go around his desk, circling behind him to look at his computer screen. "You're good with computers. The best, according to your profile on the school website. Stanford grad, a former software engineer for a major tech company before turning to academia." I lean down, my breath warm against his ear. "This should be easy for you."

He doesn't move, doesn't even seem to breathe. "Why do you need access to your parents' emails?"

It's the first sensible question he's asked, and it catches me slightly off guard. For a moment, I consider telling him the truth—about Belle's investigation, the threats against Alex and Erik, the photos that my parents use like weapons. But the truth is a luxury I can't afford, not when I'm already risking so much.

"Let's just say they're keeping secrets from me. Important ones." I straighten up, moving back into his line of sight. "Secrets that could hurt people I care about."

Something shifts in his expression—a flicker of understanding, perhaps even sympathy. "Even if I wanted to help you, I'd need credentials, security information?—"

"I have that." I pull a small notebook from my bag, flipping to a page where I've written down what little I remember of my father's login information. "[email protected]. Password is likely some variation of 'LunaQ0517'—my name plus my birthday."

He stares at the notebook, then at me, reassessing. "You've been planning this."

"I'm improvising," I correct him. "But when you grow up with parents like mine, you learn to notice the details. Like how my father uses the same password for everything, despite my mother's constant warnings."

Professor Austin turns to his keyboard, fingers hovering uncertainly. "I can't promise anything."

"Just try."

He takes a deep breath, then turns back to his computer. He enters the information quickly, muttering to himself about "VPNs" and "proxy servers." I watch over his shoulder as windows of code and text flash across the screen, each meaningless to me but apparently significant to him.

"Your father isn't as careless as you think," he says after several failed attempts. "These are enterprise-level security protocols."

Frustration threatens to crack my carefully maintained composure. "Keep trying."

He works in silence for a few more minutes, his focus intense. I pace behind him, anxiety building with each passing second. If this doesn't work, I'll have exposed myself for nothing and risked everything on a desperate gamble. What was I thinking, believing I could pull this off?

"Wait." He pauses, eyes narrowing at something on the screen. "There's a satellite account linked to the main server. Some kind of backup or archive system."

My heart rate quickens. "Can you get into that?"

"Maybe." His typing grows more focused, more purposeful. "It's using an older security protocol. If the password follows the same pattern…"

---