SINFULLY YOURS

Chapter 63: Chapter 63. Shake Off This Torment

Chapter 63. Shake Off This Torment

"Mr. Don? Mr. Don, are you still there?"

The assistant’s voice cracked through the phone’s small speaker, vibrating against Don’s ear. He flinched, blinking hard as he pulled himself out of the dark spiral of his own mind.

The memories had taken hold of him again—fractured images of the university’s structural overhaul, the sudden financial restructuring, and the unsettling reality that Rosa was somehow bound to the Lee family. It pointed to a single, ugly conclusion. He had tried to push the thought away, to bury it under reason, but it kept clawing its way back to the surface, relentless and suffocating.

A sharp, rhythmic ache throbbed behind his eyes. Don pressed the pad of his thumb hard against his temple, kneading the tension in his forehead.

Could they really be targeting her? he wondered, his pulse quickening. What could they possibly gain from this?

His mind drifted back to the encounter on the road—to the icy edge in that woman’s voice when she addressed Rosa. It wasn’t just authority; it was cold malice, a absolute confidence that spoke of someone who enjoyed the act of ruining another person’s life. A wave of heat flushed through Don’s chest, sharp and uncontrollable, as the memory burned through him.

"Ahem... Mr. Don?" the assistant called out again, his voice hesitant.

Don cleared his throat, a deep crease forming between his brows. "I’m sorry," he said, his tone dropping into a low, quiet register. "Tell me... who approved this?"

"Oh, it was... it was the vice chairman," the assistant stammered. "The officer in charge of sponsorships and educational finances."

Don raised an eyebrow at the empty room. A beat passed, and then he tilted his head back, letting out a dry, breathy chuckle.

"Unbelievable," he murmured under his breath.

He should have seen it coming. The absolute bastard.

Don squeezed his eyes shut, grinding his back teeth until his jaw locked. He had to force his chest to expand, fighting the urge to shatter the glass in his hand. Of course it was him. The man was a glutton—a parasite who couldn’t authorize a single administrative document without expecting a quiet transfer of cash. Years ago, when Don had caught him funneling university funds into private accounts, he had shown the man mercy. He had spared his career. But greed wasn’t a habit; it was a character flaw, and it was clear the vice chairman hadn’t changed a bit.

Some people never reformed. They just learned to hide their appetite until the next feast arrived.

Don let out a long, slow breath, letting the anger settle into cold resolve. Well, at this point, I have no choice. The bastard needs to learn a lesson, and he’s going to learn it the hard way.

"It’s all right," Don said into the receiver. He slipped his free hand deep into his pajama pocket, rolling his shoulders back. His expression locked into something rigid and dangerous; the lightness in his posture vanished completely. "Can you do something for me?"

"Of course, boss. Anything you need."

"What I need is fairly simple," Don said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "I want you to draft an email to the vice chairman. Make it clean. Polished. Make it look beautiful. Garnish it with every corporate courtesy you can manage. You can even attach a digital ribbon to the top so it looks like a notification for a promotion or a performance bonus. And then, right in the center, tell him that he is absolutely, irrevocably fired. Do you understand?"

Silence stretched across the line. A beat. Two.

"Did you copy that?" Don asked, his quiet tone sharper than a raised voice.

"Yes! Yes, immediately, boss," the assistant stammered, the rustle of papers suddenly audible in the background. "I’ll draft it right away."

A faint, humorless smile touched Don’s lips. "Good. Now, regarding the rest of this absurdity from the Lee family, the fix is straightforward. I want you to log into the main portal where that announcement was posted. Delete it. Immediately."

"But, boss..." the assistant swallowed hard, his voice dropping an octave. "A large portion of the student body has already logged in and seen it. Pulling it down now will make the administration look unstable. It’s going to spark a entire wave of rumors across campus. People will say the university doesn’t know what it’s doing, that the leadership is confused. The students are going to start questioning every official memo we release."

Don closed his eyes, inhaling slowly through his nose. "Do I sound like I’m open for debate?"

The silence on the other end was absolute, followed by an audible, dry gulp through the speaker.

"I will take it down immediately, boss," the assistant said quietly.

"Good," Don replied. "And as for the chaos it might stir up, you will draft an official administrative notice. Post an apology to the portal, citing a technical error and misinformation. If you had waited for my input before rushing to publish, we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

"I... I am so sorry, boss."

"Let it go. But listen closely to the next part," Don instructed, pacing a slow line across the polished marble tiles. "Revert the tuition fees back to their original rate. It stands at $150,000. That figure was established for a reason. The board members who calculated that structure weren’t amateurs. Who do the Lees think they are, striding into an academic institution and bending internal policy to suit their personal agenda? I don’t care what game they think they’re playing, but I am not going to stand by while they wreck a student’s future over a personal grudge. Restore the original payment deadline. Today."

"Understood... but what if their representatives press for an explanation?"

Don scoffed. "Tell them the owner of the institution overruled them."

"They... they might pull their capital," the assistant warned, his confidence wavering again. "If they withdraw their sponsorship, the structural deficit—"

Don’s chuckle cut him off, dry and completely devoid of warmth. "Is that what’s keeping you up at night? Don’t worry about the funding. I will absorb the sponsorship personally, and I’ll allocate ten times the capital they ever brought to the table. I’m back now, and things are going to be run differently around here. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, boss! Crystal clear!"

"As for Rosa," Don continued, his voice shifting, taking on a heavier, guarded tone, "I am assuming full personal responsibility for her academic funding. I want the legal documents drawn up to sever her financial ties to the Lee family entirely. Make sure her file is locked."

"Understood, boss. I know the protocol. As long as the funding is secured, the legal shift is routine."

"You know my accounts," Don said simply.

"Right away, boss. I’ll initiate the paperwork now. Is there anything else?"

Don stood near the wide living room window, staring out into the dark yard. He let the silence linger, his eyes narrowing as he mentally mapped out every legal angle, searching for any backdoor or loophole the Lee family might exploit to counter his move.

He let out a tired breath. "Nothing else for now. Just keep your eyes open. If the Lees attempt anything else, I want to know before the ink is dry."

"You’ll be the first to know, boss."

"Good."

The line went dead with a quiet beep.

Don slowly lowered the phone, his fingers tightening around the metal casing until his knuckles turned pale. He let out a low noise, shaking his head at the empty room.

Mrs. Lee, he thought, his jaw tightening as he stared at his reflection in the dark windowpane. I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing, but let’s find out... just who the hell do you think you are with your family’s money?

Without warning, the memory of Rosa intruded on his anger—the sudden image of her soft, wide brown eyes, the flush of color across her cheeks, and the absolute panic in her face when he had subconsciously pressed too close earlier.

Don squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a rough sigh. This is going to be a nightmare...

He turned back toward the center of the room, his eyes landing on the soft leather sofa where she had been resting earlier. There was no luggage. No bags, no personal belongings—just her small, neatly bound stack of textbooks left on the cushion.

He exhaled slowly, the anger draining out of him, replaced by a quiet, exhausting weight. "What am I supposed to do with you?" he muttered to the empty space.

Stepping over to the sofa, he moved the decorative throw pillow aside and carefully picked up the stack of books. He carried them across the floor to the heavy oak bookshelf standing in the corner of the living room, setting them neatly on an open eye-level shelf. Taking a small slip of paper from the desk, he scribbled a quick note, sliding it beneath the top cover so she would see it the moment she came looking for them.

Don placed his hands on his hips, staring at the slip of paper for a long moment before letting his shoulders drop.

He walked back to the head of the dining table, pulling out a chair and sitting down slowly. He rested his elbows against the cool polished wood, pressing his knuckles together as a heavy frown settled over his face.

Good Lord, he thought, staring blankly at the dark screen of his phone. It’s going to be impossible to shake this off. What did I do to deserve this kind of torment?

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