Chapter 6
The following morning, a sleek black Mercedes pulled up at the mouth of their cramped alley, drawing stares from across the rundown neighborhood.
Charlotte and Hazel got into the car with everyone watching, all those curious eyes following their every move.
The driver was a silent middle-aged man. He didn't ask a single question and only respectfully opened the car door for them.
Hazel was nervous, fidgeting with the hem of her clothes.
Charlotte took her hand and reassured her in a gentle voice. "Mom, don't be scared. We're going to our new place."
The car smoothly pulled away from the crowded, rundown area.
The view outside the window slowly changed from low-rise houses to towering skyscrapers. Finally, the car stopped in front of the familiar villa.
Monica was already waiting at the door. She was dressed in comfortable loungewear today, looking softer and less businesslike than usual.
Her gaze paused briefly on Hazel. But she covered it up well, maintaining her gracious smile.
"Welcome," Monica greeted Charlotte and Hazel. "The rooms are ready."
Monica led them through a side door, taking them around to a separate guesthouse in the villa's backyard.
The guesthouse was peaceful and quiet, with a small garden separating it from the main house.
"We usually have guests stay here. It's always very quiet." Monica pushed open the door. "I set you up on the ground floor for easy access."
The suite was airy, complete with an en-suite bath and floor-to-ceiling windows letting in warm afternoon sun. Fresh linens gave off a clean, soapy scent.
This was so much better than that dark, damp basement they used to live in.
Hazel seemed to like it here too. She walked over to the window, her eyes wandering over the flowers and greenery in the garden, and the worry on her face melted away.
"Thank you, Mrs. Quinn," Charlotte said, her voice full of genuine gratitude.
Monica really had her back, making sure Charlotte had nothing to worry about anymore.
"You're welcome." Monica looked at her. "I only have one son, and all my hopes are pinned on him. Charlotte, I hope you can understand how I feel."
Her tone came across as formal and respectful, but also carried a subtle warning. Monica was drawing a clear line. She was letting Charlotte know exactly what this arrangement was. She needed a tutor who could solve her son's problems. Nothing more.
Charlotte caught the subtext instantly. "Don't worry, Mrs. Quinn. I know how to keep things professional." She didn't leave any room for misunderstanding.
Monica gave a satisfied nod. "Get settled in first. Someone will bring dinner over. Meet Nolan at the study in the main house by seven P.M." Then she turned and left.
After making sure Hazel was settled in, Charlotte unpacked the few things she'd brought with her.
She kept her admission letter tucked under her pillow, just like before.
It always reminded her what she came here for. She was here to study, build a future, and break the cycle, not to get seduced by comfort.
At six-thirty sharp, dinner arrived: a balanced spread of four dishes and soup.
Charlotte fed Hazel, watched her drift off to sleep, and only then finally ate her own dinner.
She ate quickly, but she never looked flustered or sloppy. Good manners were second nature to her, completely independent of wealth.
*****
By six-fifty, Charlotte stood outside the study on the second floor of the main house.
The study door was slightly ajar.
Inside, a muffled argument could be heard. It was Monica's voice, along with that of a man whose tone was deep and low.
"I told you, I'm buried in work. I don't have time to look after him," the man snapped, his voice dripping with impatience.
"Tyler, he's your son." Monica's voice bordered on frantic. "Do you know he hit rock bottom again on his latest quiz?"
"Who cares if he's at the bottom? My son is going to inherit the family business anyway. Why should I care about a few grades?" The man, Tyler Quinn, scoffed. "Have any of those tutors you hired ever made a difference? Stop wasting your time."
"This time is different."
"What's so different? It's just another poor student you brought in, thinking she can land herself a rich guy," he sneered, his words dripping with contempt.
Charlotte stood at the door, her face blank and unreadable.
She could already imagine the mess she'd walk into if she barged in right now.
She waited there in silence.
The argument inside was still going on.
"Tyler, you're being irrational," Monica snapped.
"Me? Look in the mirror. You smother Nolan around the clock like a trophy project. Did you ever bother asking what he actually wants?" Tyler shot back.
"I—" Monica was caught off guard, unable to respond for a moment.
"Whatever, I've got a business dinner tonight. You deal with it yourself." Heavy footsteps neared the door. Tyler seemed to leave.
Charlotte took a deep breath, raised her hand, and knocked on the door.
The sound was just loud enough to bring the argument inside to an abrupt halt.
The study door was yanked open.
A tall, middle-aged man in an expensive suit appeared in the doorway. He must be Nolan's father, Tyler Quinn.
His eyes were sharp, fixing Charlotte with a piercing stare. Taking in her youthful, striking features, he sneered, "Typical."
Without another word, he brushed past her down the corridor, trailing an oppressive aura.
Charlotte stood straight, unfazed.
Inside, Monica stood pale and clearly trembling with rage.
Nolan sat at the desk, his head bowed, his expression hidden from view. But his clenched fists betrayed the storm raging inside him.
This was his family. A domineering mother who always had to be in charge. A father who was cold and indifferent. A couple who were always at each other's throats.
No wonder he was so rebellious.
Deep down, Charlotte already knew the answer. She stepped into the study, as if she hadn't overheard a single word.
"Mrs. Quinn, Nolan," she greeted with a nod.
Then she walked right up to Nolan and placed a handout she'd prepared on his desk. "Tonight, we cover celestial mechanics." Her tone was cool and measured, like a brisk draft clearing the stifling tension from the room.
Monica was caught off guard. She never imagined Charlotte could stay so composed after witnessing all that drama unfold right in front of her.
Nolan looked up, locking eyes with her flat, unfazed gaze. A knot of humiliation churned in his gut, paired with an unexpected trace of relief.
"Let's get started." Charlotte pulled out a chair and sat down.
She acted like all the drama that just went down in this room had nothing to do with her. As a tutor, she was here to teach.