Chapter 73 Lottie
I walk to the front of the class and murmur to my professor, keeping my voice low so I don’t disrupt the class.
“I’m sorry, I have to step out. Something came up in the administrative building.”
That’s all it takes.
The moment they hear 'administrative building,' their expression shifts—concern, curiosity, and understanding all blending together.
“Alright,” they say with a nod. “Go ahead.”
No questions.
No resistance.
Because that building means one thing—
Something important.
And it is.
He is.
I don’t waste another second.
I gather my things quickly, sling my bag over my shoulder, and slip out of the classroom, the door clicking softly shut behind me. The cold air hits me the moment I step outside, sharp and bracing, but I barely feel it as I move across the quad at a brisk pace.
My focus is already ahead.
On him.
By the time I reach the administrative building, I’ve still got a few minutes to spare.
And he’s already there.
Patrick stands just outside the entrance, shifting slightly from foot to foot like he’s been waiting longer than he wants to admit. Beside him is a woman I don’t recognize—but I don’t need an introduction to guess who she is.
Dr. Marin.
Even from a distance, there’s something composed about her. Confident. Observant.
As I approach, Patrick notices me immediately.
“Lottie,” he says, relief softening his voice. “Hi. This is Dr. Marin.”
He gestures toward her, then falters just slightly.
“Dr. Marin, this is my, um—this is Lottie.”
I don’t hesitate.
I step forward, extending my hand with quiet confidence.
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Marin,” I say. “I’m Lottie—Patrick’s alpha.”
There’s no point dancing around it.
Dr. Marin’s expression shifts—not surprised, but pleased.
She takes my hand, her grip warm and steady.
“The pleasure is all mine, Lottie,” she replies. “I’m Patrick’s former professor.”
Her gaze flicks between us, sharp and perceptive. I can practically feel her taking everything in—the way Patrick edges closer to me without thinking, the subtle pull between us like something invisible but undeniable.
Her smile deepens.
“I’m happy for you both,” she says. “Finding your fated mate is rare. It’s a blessing when it happens.”
There’s sincerity in her tone that settles something in my chest.
“I hope you two live a long, healthy, and happy life together.”
I return her smile, softer but no less genuine.
“Thank you, Dr. Marin. That means a lot—especially coming from you. Patrick speaks very highly of you.”
She lets out a small, fond laugh.
“And I hold him in just as high regard,” she says. “He was my best student.”
Patrick shifts beside me, already looking embarrassed.
“I hadn’t taught anyone like him before,” she continues, her tone thoughtful, almost nostalgic. “And I haven’t taught anyone like him since.”
I nod, glancing at Patrick with quiet affection.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I say. “He’s… exceptional.”
She hums in agreement.
“That he is,” she says warmly. “Always the brightest star in the sky.”
I look at him again, my gaze softening completely now.
“Always.”
The word comes out quieter than I intend—but it carries.
Patrick flushes instantly, color rising fast across his cheeks.
“Oh my god,” he mutters, half-laughing, half-mortified. “Can you two not?”
He rubs the back of his neck, clearly flustered.
“I’m not doing whatever you guys ask just because you're flattering me.”
I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me.
Even now—
Even with everything riding on what’s about to happen—
He still manages to be this.
Soft.
Real.
Mine.
The atmosphere in the room is suffocating.
Heavy.
Thick enough that every breath feels deliberate.
We’ve already made introductions, and now all eyes have shifted to Dr. Marin as the panel invites her to speak. The silence that follows her stepping forward is almost oppressive—like the room itself is holding its breath.
I feel Patrick beside me.
Tense.
His hand twitches slightly in mine before stilling, like he’s forcing himself to remain composed.
Dr. Marin takes a moment, her gaze sweeping over the four people seated behind the desk before briefly flicking back to us. She offers us a small, reassuring smile—one that feels grounding—before turning her full attention forward again.
When she speaks, her voice is calm. Clear. Controlled.
“Patrick contacted me almost two months ago,” she begins. “He was experiencing a number of unusual symptoms he couldn’t explain.”
She ticks them off with quiet precision.
“An electrical sensation upon physical contact. The ability to detect pheromones despite suppressants. A persistent desire to be near a specific individual—intense and difficult to ignore.”
There’s a pause, just long enough for her words to settle.
“When he described these symptoms to me, I conducted further research,” she continues. “What I found was that they aligned almost perfectly with documented cases of fated mates.”
A murmur ripples faintly across the panel.
“I informed him of this,” she adds, “but he was… skeptical.”
That’s putting it lightly.
“He struggled with the idea that fate could dictate something as significant as a lifelong partnership.”
The panel exchanges glances.
Dean Louis leans forward slightly, fingers steepled.
“If you presented him with factual, documented case studies,” he asks, “why was it so difficult for him to accept?”
Dr. Marin shrugs, but there’s nothing dismissive about it.
“Belief isn’t dictated by data alone,” she says. “Some people reject science. Others reject fate. Patrick happened to resist both in this instance.”
Her gaze sharpens just slightly.
“It took something more… personal to shift that perspective.”
Dean Louis tilts his head, interest piqued.
“Oh?” he presses. “And what exactly happened?”
Beside me, I feel Patrick tense.
Then—
His head drops.
Just slightly.
Like he already knows where this is going and doesn’t want to follow.
Dr. Marin notices.
Of course she does.
She turns her head, looking at us briefly, reading the room—reading him—before turning back to the panel.
“I believe that is private,” she says evenly. “And should only be shared at their discretion.”
Her tone doesn’t waver.
“I don’t believe that level of detail is necessary for resolving this matter.”
I hear it then—
The quiet exhale Patrick lets out beside me.
Relief.
Small, but real.
Dean Louis shifts in his chair, irritation flickering across his face.
“I think I should be the one to determine what is or isn’t necessary in this situation.”
Dr. Marin doesn’t even blink.
She shrugs again, almost casually—but her words land sharp.
“You’re welcome to try,” she says. “If you’re comfortable risking a lawsuit for invasion of privacy.”
That does it.
Dean Louis pales slightly, his confidence faltering just enough to be noticeable. His eyes flick toward Miss Bundt.
Miss Bundt gives a small shake of her head before clearing her throat, stepping in smoothly.
“That won’t be necessary,” she says, regaining control of the room. “We have sufficient information.”
She folds her hands neatly on the table.
“Our decision stands.”
The words settle heavily.
“Lottie may finish out the semester in Professor Hale’s class,” she continues. “However, moving forward, she is not to be under his instruction in any capacity for the remainder of her academic career.”
I nod slightly. That was expected.
Then—
“We also request that you keep your relationship discreet,” she adds. “Unless you are prepared to explain the circumstances regarding fated mates.”
Her gaze sharpens just a fraction.
“You must understand—if others observe this behavior without context, they may assume they can engage in similar conduct.”
I hear the implication clearly.
They’re not protecting us.
They’re protecting their system.
Patrick nods immediately, clearly relieved.
But I—
I grunt softly under my breath.
Why should we have to hide something real just because they don’t want to deal with the fallout?
If anything, they should enforce the same standard—prove it, like we had to.
But I let it go.
For now.
Because Patrick is happy.
And that matters more.
I squeeze his hand before threading my fingers through his as we turn to leave.
“Just one more thing,” Dean Louis calls after us.
We pause.
“I trust I don’t need to remind you,” he says pointedly, “that there is to be no inappropriate behavior on school grounds.”
Something in me snaps just a little.
I turn back, arching a brow.
“Does my dorm room count?” I ask, my tone edged with dry sarcasm.
Beside me, Patrick makes a strangled sound.
“Lottie!” he gasps, completely scandalized.
I don’t even look at him.
Dr. Marin coughs lightly, clearly hiding a smirk behind her hand.
Dean Louis, on the other hand, looks like he might actually combust.
Miss Bundt presses her lips together, doing a poor job of concealing her amusement.
Mr. Jacobs and Mr. Jeffries?
They look thoroughly done with the entire situation.
I turn back around before anyone can respond further, tugging Patrick gently toward the door.
Because honestly—
I’ve had enough of this room.