One Night With My Alpha Professor

Chapter 276

Edwin

It was a quiet day at the estate. The first touches of winter were reaching the barren treetops outside, the scent of cold air permeating the house.

I’d needed a little time to myself, so I had made an impromptu weekend trip out here. Audrey had decided to stay at the apartment, claiming that she still had more work to do for the fashion show on Monday. But really, I knew she was just agonizing over tiny details.

Not that I minded a little time alone.

I stood in the exercise room, staring blankly at the punching bag in front of me. Did I really want to do this?

It felt dangerous to get back into boxing, especially without Audrey here to ground me. But since I’d gotten here last night, I couldn’t stop feeling the pull to my boxing gloves. I think that was really why I came, after all.

Like my body was yearning for the sort of release that only the punching bag could give me. And I think even Audrey knew that, which was really why she hadn’t come.

“Alright,” I muttered under my breath, slipping the gloves on and flexing my hands beneath the leather. “Let’s see if I remember how this goes.”

I started with a few hesitant jabs, pulling each punch. The bag barely moved, and inside, I felt my wolf growling annoyedly at my weakness.

Sighing, I took a step back, rolled my shoulders, and let out a slow breath. Memories surfaced, unbidden–the endless hours I’d spent in the gym when I was younger, trying to impress a father who only saw what he wanted to see. A strong son. An obedient son. An angry, cruel son.

A son just like him.

I gritted my teeth, pushing those thoughts away, and landed a harder punch. The bag jolted back. So did I. The sting in my knuckles wasn’t something I had missed much over the years, but it woke something up inside of me.

Before I knew it, one punch was turning into another, and another. The world outside the gym faded away; it was just me and that old punching bag and nothing else.

As the flow came back, I felt it–the energy, the intensity, that spark that had always been there. And with it came the part of me I had buried for so long; the bright–eyed kid who just wanted to fight and impress his father.

Only this time, I didn’t care if I impressed him. I was almost glad that I had never filled the mold he wanted me to fill so badly. This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - ©.

I landed one final punch, harder than any of the others, and the bag swung back, the chain vibrating with the impact. I stood there, breathing hard, feeling a little more like myself again. That wasn’t so bad, was it?

But when I turned, there was someone standing in the doorway, arms crossed, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Peter,” I said, tugging off my gloves. “The hell are you doing here?”

“Didn’t know you still had it in you,” he said, sounding a little amused.

I gave him a short nod as I grabbed my water bottle. “I guess it’s like riding a bike. You never really forget how to do it.” I

took a deep chug, water dribbling down my chin, then said, “Did you need something?”

Peter’s smile waned a little. “I, uh… Charles told me you were here,” he said. “Someone wants to talk to you.”

Sat, Nov

Chapter 276

Before I could answer, Peter stepped aside. Another figure stepped into view: taller and stockier, but unmistakably him.

Malakai.

096

I froze. My heart pounded in my chest, but it had nothing to do with my workout. Malakai–the middle brother with a heart of ice. The one who had never stood up against our parents, not even when it might have made a real difference. The brother who always remained silent, often doing our parents‘ bidding.

“What… are you doing here?” I finally managed.

Malakai shifted on his feet, looking strangely… shy?

“I came to talk,” he said quietly, his gaze meeting mine

Cover hesitating for a moment. “Just to talk. If… if you’ll let me.”

For a moment, I wasn’t sure if I should laugh, yell, or just walk away from him. He had to have been here at our father’s request–likely trying to convince me and Audrey to ‘forgive‘ our father. Which we were definitely not about to do.

But Peter, as if sensing my trepidation, shook his head. “Just hear him out, Edwin

Reluctantly, I nodded, gesturing for Malakai to follow us upstairs to the kitchen. I kicked my sneakers off by the kitchen door as we entered, waving my hand toward the table. “Coffee?”

“Uh… Yeah,” Malakai said. “Coffee would be nice.”

A few minutes later, the three of us sat around the table, steaming cups of pitch black coffee in our hands. I kept it bitter, just in case Malakai was here to stir up more shit. It burned a little going down, but I sipped it anyway.

Malakai looked around for a moment, as if he couldn’t bear to look at me. Although whether that was from fear, indignation, or something else, I couldn’t be sure. I just stared at him, sipping my coffee, silently waiting for him to speak.

Finally, he seemed to settle on staring at the mug between his hands.

“First of all… I know I don’t deserve anything from either of your he started, his voice hoarse. “I know I’ve been… a bastard. A coward. I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

I frowned, leaning back in my chair, arms crossed over my chest. “Then why are you here?”

He swallowed, still not looking up. “Because… I need you to know why I never did anything. Why I never stood up to them.“” He paused, taking a steadying breath, and finally looked up at me. He looked… tired. Older.

way he beat you, the “It was fear, Edwin,” he continued. “Plain and simple. I was terrified of them–of Dad, especially. The way Mom tormented us…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I stayed in line because I was afraid of what happened to you happening to me. But I know it doesn’t make up for the fact that I let you take the brunt of it instead.”

The words hung between us, raw and heavy. I glanced at Peter, who just lifted his eyebrows at me.

“What changed?” I blurted out, honestly still waiting for him to drop some hammer on me–maybe ask for money or something.

But Malakai looked back at me, his eyes filled with something I hadn’t seen before. Vulnerability.

“My wife. She saw right through them. She refused to come around, said she couldn’t stand the toxicity. She warned me over and over that it would ruin us. But I didn’t listen.” He looked away, pain flickering across his face. “And eventually… She left. Last month.”

Peter and I exchanged another look. Neither of us had seen Malakai’s wife in years, but we knew they were fated mates, which meant that our brother was hurting badly.

“I stayed for so long, being Mom and Dad’s quiet little minion,” Malakai continued, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“But losing her made me realize… something had to change. I had to change.”

realize.…..something

He looked back down then, and I saw the hurt etching deep lines into his forehead. “I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. I know I stood by while they hurt you, while they hurt all of us. But… you’re the only brothers I have left.”

His voice cracked, and he looked away, struggling to keep his composure. “Axel… he’s beyond help now. But you two… you’re still here. And I want to rebuild, if you’ll let me. Even if it’s too late.”

Silence settled over us after that. I searched my brother’s face, looking for any sign of manipulation, any hint that he was here for selfish reasons. But all I saw was a broken man, trying to pick up the pieces of a life that had been shattered.

I couldn’t stay angry with him. It was our parents who we had to be angry at–our parents who had tried so hard to ruin us. And with our dad basically incapacitated mentally, I was the eldest, the man of the family now.

Which meant that I had to do one thing.

Finally, I pushed my chair back with a loud scrape and stood, walking around the table to meet him. Malakai looked up, startled, and without a word, I grabbed his jacket by the collar and hauled him to his feet.

“Edwin-” Peter jumped up, eyes wide. Malakai’s eyes flicked to where my fists were wrapped tightly around his jacket, and I could practically hear the gears whirring in his head.

He thought I was going to hit him. And maybe a part of me wanted to.

But I wasn’t my father. I never had been, and I never would be, no matter how hard he tried to fashion me into the mirror image of himself.

“You don’t expect forgiveness,” I said, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him close. “But I do forgive you, brother, K forgive you.”