Chapter 96
Back in the classroom, Charlotte handed Andrew two bottles of water she’d picked up at the school store.
“Returning yours.”
Andrew had one foot propped on his chair, chewing the end of his pen, completely tangled up in his math worksheet. When Charlotte suddenly offered him the water, he froze. Was she really returning the water?
“It’s just a bottle of Andrew started to brush it off, but the second he met Charlotte’s eyes, he lost his nerve. He quickly changed his tone. “My treat. Just consider it a friendly gesture.”
Parrish reached over and took one of the bottles, grinning. “Thanks, Charlotte!” He wasn’t about to refuse a gift, especially from the girl herself. Andrew realized too late that he’d missed his chance and grabbed the other bottle, his cool expression slipping into something a little awkward. Why did it feel like he and Parrish were both just giving in to Charlotte without a fight?
“No problem,” Charlotte replied quietly. She went back to her seat, pulled her windbreaker over to use as a pillow, and turned her back to the guys, settling in for a
nap.
“Still zoning out?” Parrish nudged Andrew, noticing he was just staring at the water bottle.
“Your brother said if you come in last place again in this month’s exams, he’s going to break your legs.”
Andrew wasn’t actually a bad student. He’d gotten into Vanguard High on his own, but as soon as he arrived, he just stopped trying and never got back on track.
He glanced at Charlotte, already fast asleep, and smirked. “I’m not going to be last.” Without Charlotte in the class, he might have been a little worried, but with her around, he figured he’d be safe from the bottom.
Parrish eyed Charlotte, thoughtful. “What if she’s only bad at physics and crushes every other subject?”
Andrew fell silent, unsure. That didn’t seem likely.
…
When the evening study session ended, Charlotte picked up her bag and headed out the door. Andrew jumped up and hurried after her.
“Charlotte, where do you live? Is it on my way? Want to walk together?”
Charlotte glanced at his name badge, a tiny hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. “Not for now,” she answered coolly, shooting him down without a second thought.
Andrew stopped in his tracks, scratching his head. “What did she mean by that?” He replayed the words in his mind. Not for now?
Parrish shrugged, just as lost. “No idea. But honestly, I like how direct she is.”
“Yeah, but what’s the point if you like her? You think she’d go for you?” Andrew kicked him lightly. “Keep dreaming.”
“And she’d go for you?” Parrish threw on his cap, leaning in with a teasing grin. “Charlotte’s not someone just anyone could handle.”
Andrew felt a lump in his throat. He grabbed his backpack and threw it at Parrish. “Get out of here!”
Parrish laughed and sprinted off, disappearing down the hallway.
Andrew stood there, replaying the look Charlotte had given him. It sent a chill down his spine.
…
At the Blair Estate, the great hall was alive with the bustle of servants getting ready for the Blair family’s monthly dinner. This time, the event was even more elaborate, celebrating Patricia’s recovery.
Andrew was sprawled on the sofa playing a game on his phone when he heard the sound of a sports car outside. Without even looking up, he called out, “Who just got here?”
“It’s Anthony, sir,” a servant replied.
Andrew shot up, scrambled for the stairs, and called over his shoulder, “If Anthony asks, just say I’m studying!”
The servants could only stare.
Almost as soon as Andrew disappeared, slow and confident footsteps filled the entryway. Everyone in the hall looked up.
Anthony stood just under six foot three, dressed in a crisp white shirt and a dark silk tie. His features were so sharp and perfect they looked sculpted, and he carried himself with acold, commanding presence. The air in the room seemed to drop as he walked in.
The servants straightened up immediately. “Mr. Valentine.”
Anthony nodded slightly, cool eyes sweeping over the hall. “Where’s my grandmother?”
“Mrs. Blair is resting,” one of the staff answered.
“Is Andrew back?” Anthony loosened his tie, an edge of seriousness in his eyes.
The servants exchanged a look. “He’s upstairs,” one said, then hesitated, quickly adding, “He’s not sleeping.”
“Don’t wake Patricia. Let her rest.” Anthony glanced upward, undid the top button of his shirt, revealing a glimpse of his collarbone, and headed for the stairs.
น
“Yes, Mr. Valentine.” The maids nodded, but couldn’t help sneaking another look at his retreating figure. The gossip about Anthony was always swirling Last time, Patricia had called and heard a woman’s. voice near him. Everyone wondered who could possibly catch the attention of someone as cool and untouchable as Anthony.
In his room, Anthony settled onto the sofa, long legs crossed, posture relaxed but aura chilly. He picked up his phone and opened the message from the teacher. His gaze darkened as he read the exam results.
“Twenty-eight points?” His tone was casual on the surface, but there was a dangerous edge. “Did you take the test with your eyes closed?”
Andrew kept his head down, not daring to answer. How could he ever compare to Anthony? Anthony had skipped grades since grade school, topped the national exams, graduated with dual degrees from
Cambridge and became the youngest finance masterin MIT history. Next to him, Andrew felt completely useless.
“Answer me.”
Anthony’s voice cut through the silence, cold and sharp.
Andrew flinched, then looked up, voice barely above a mumble. “I did better. I’m not last anymore. There’s someone in my class who scored even lower.”
Someone worse than him? Anthony scrolled down to the bottom of the list and found the name, clear as day: Charlotte.
For a second, his cold expression faltered. A small, helpless smile tugged at his lips and the ice in his eyes melted completely. Seven points. Only she could get a score that turned out to be lucky.