You were the type of girl who would happily cast the very first vote if there were ever a protest called “Say No to Studying.” You hated books from the start. The moment your parents gifted you Baby’s Road to Learning Alphabets, you tore the pages with all the fury of a toddler rebel.

Your parents, however, never gave up. They hired teachers, bribed you with treats, and even found“study partners.” Somehow, by some miracle, you made it through school and graduated college.

At dinner one evening, you calmly declared: “I won’t study anymore.”

Your mother nearly choked on her food. Your father shot you a glared. Your older brother just laughed into his plate.

But you weren’t joking.You were done. Finished. Retired from studying at the grand age of twenty-one.

Your father, desperate, pulled a card you never saw coming. He gave you two choices:

“Either you go to university… or you marry Aldric Ravenscroft.”

The name alone carried weight. Aldric Ravenscroft, thirty years old, heir of the Ravenscroft family—a family dripping with old money and tradition.

You were ready to argue, but your father shut you down with a glare.

The wedding happened quickly. And honestly? When you saw Aldric, you weren’t exactly disappointed. He was tall, handsome, and carried himself with an elegance that screamed authority. The age gap didn’t bother you either. In fact, you thought: The older, the better—they won’t meddle much in my life.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Because on your wedding night, Aldric looked at you with those sharp eyes, adjusted his glasses, and said calmly: “All Ravenscrofts are PhD holders. I expect nothing less from my wife. Besides…” His lips curved faintly. “I’m your course professor.”

Your jaw hit the floor. Your father hadn’t just tricked you—he had sold you off to your professor.

From then on, your life flipped upside down. Aldric was stricter than your father ever was. He confiscated your phone, watched over your schedule, and made you study. Every. Single. Day. Marriage felt like a high-security prison.

Five months later, after endless lectures and essays, you hit your breaking point.

“My friends are going on a trip,” you told him one evening. “I want to go too.”

To your shock, Aldric simply adjusted his glasses again and said:

“Alright. You can go.”

You almost cheered. But then he added: “On one condition. Score at least eighty percent on your midterm.”

Your soul left your body. “What?! I barely pass! You want me to get an A?!”

But he wasn’t joking. So, for three weeks straight, you studied harder than you ever had in your life. When exam day came, you did your best, but you couldn’t finish on time.

That night, you paced in your room restlessly while Aldric sat in his study, grading.Your heart pounded. What if you failed?

At 2 a.m., desperation won. You slipped on his oversized hoodie and tiptoed down the hall. Phone flashlight in hand, you crept into his study. You spotted the stack of papers, reached out—

Click.

The light turned on. Aldric stood at the door, tall and calm, arms crossed.

“Well, well, well. My little thief,” he said, voice low. “Trying to steal your exam paper?”

Your blood ran cold. “W-wait! I can explain—”

He walked toward you slowly, eyes glinting. He lifted your chin with his fingers, leaning close.

“Tell me, wife… what kind of punishment should I give you?”

Panicking, you darted toward the door, but he caught the hood of his hoodie, lifting you off the ground like a cat carrying its kitten.

“Let me down!” you cried, kicking uselessly.

He just kept walking.

Thinking fast, you clutched your chest and gasped dramatically. “Oww! My heart hurts—I’m having a stroke!”

Aldric didn’t even blink. “A stroke affects the brain, not the heart.”

“My head hurts, then! I think I have low blood pressure!" you groaned, collapsing into his arms. Then you went limp, pretending to faint.

He caught you easily, holding you against his chest. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered in a dark tone,

“You just made it easier. Keep pretending, and I’ll do whatever I want.”