Chapter 12

Clif stepped out of the shower and walked downstairs wearing nothing but a loosely tied dark bathrobe. The damp V of his chest was fully exposed, radiating a casual, aggressive masculinity. Bill, the head butler, was waiting at the bottom of the stairs to hand him a glass of iced juice.

Clif took a slow sip. "No noise from upstairs?" he asked.

"None, sir," Bill replied politely. "It's been quite peaceful."

Clif walked over and sat down on the expansive living room sofa, his expression completely unreadable. "She didn't pass out from fright?"

Bill stood respectfully to the side. "I don't believe so. In the past, when a tutor has fainted, the young master has always called for someone to come clear them out."

Clif didn't say anything else. Bill silently set out a plate of delicate pastries on the coffee table before retreating. The minutes ticked by. Every so often, Clif would glance at his phone. Forty minutes passed, and there was still absolutely no sound coming from the second floor. Clif couldn't quite decide if he was surprised or if he had expected this. Either way, she had officially broken the record.

He originally had paperwork to review in his study, but as he sat there waiting, he found himself intensely curious about the final outcome. Could she actually survive the full one hundred minutes in that room?

Exactly on the dot, the heavy door to Dustin’s bedroom clicked open.

Kerry walked out.

The entire household staff—from the head butler down to the cleaning maids—subtly paused what they were doing, casting polite but intensely calculating glances in her direction. Everyone was internally marveling. She was the very first 'hero' to walk into that room and actually walk back out under her own power.

Kerry descended the sweeping staircase and spotted Clif sitting on the sofa, the TV playing silently in the background.

"Mr. Condon," she called out, her tone perfectly professional.

Clif looked up, his dark eyes sweeping over her. "Class is over?"

Kerry smiled brightly and nodded. "Yes."

Clif’s expression gave away absolutely nothing, and Kerry’s expression was equally impossible to read. It was impossible to tell if her bright smile was genuine relief or the manic grin of someone suppressing severe psychological trauma.

"Stay and eat," Clif said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Thank you, but I won't take up any more of your time," Kerry deflected smoothly. "I have other work to prepare when I get back."

"Don't be polite," Clif replied evenly. "I want to discuss Dustin's academic progress with you. Besides, I heard you’ve been at Vanguard for a month and this is the only contract you’ve signed. Unless your other job involves serving tea and water to your coworkers, I doubt you have anything pressing to rush back to."

He didn't just rip the band-aid off; he poured salt in the wound.

Kerry internally choked on a surge of pure rage, but instantly forced her smile wider to mask the urge to strangle him. "Then I’ll impose on you, Mr. Condon," she said sweetly.

Clif sent a maid upstairs to fetch Dustin for lunch, then went to his room to change into proper clothes. A few minutes later, the three of them were seated around a massive, polished dining table. The kitchen staff began bringing out the food. There had to be at least fifteen, maybe twenty different dishes.

Bill stepped up to Kerry’s side. "Ms. Jones, I am not entirely familiar with your palate. If there is a specific dish you are craving, please let me know and I will have the kitchen prepare it immediately."

"Thank you, Bill," Kerry replied gracefully. "I’m not a picky eater. This is more than enough."

Bill bowed and retreated. Kerry and Dustin sat across from each other, quietly sizing each other up without making it obvious.

At the head of the table, Clif picked up his chopsticks. "Don't stand on ceremony, Ms. Jones. It’s just a casual home-cooked meal."

Dustin immediately picked up his chopsticks.

Right, Kerry noted silently. Whatever else is going on with the Condon family’s parenting style, the rules at the dinner table are absolute.

Maintaining her flawless smile, Kerry said, "Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Condon."

The three of them ate in utter silence for a few minutes before Clif finally broke it. "How was the lesson today?"

Dustin was sitting with perfect posture, his eyes cast down at his plate, eating with immaculate table manners.

Kerry glanced at the boy and smiled warmly. "I think it went quite well. Dustin was very cooperative."

Clif shifted his dark gaze to the boy. "And you? What did you think of Ms. Jones?"

Dustin swallowed his food, his face entirely blank. "She’s alright. Except she's a bit too superstitious."

Clif didn't even look at Kerry. He kept his eyes on Dustin. "Superstitious about what?"

"She talks about ghosts," Dustin deadpanned.

Kerry internally seethed. This little brat holds a grudge! She hadn't said a single bad word about him pulling a massive lizard on her, and he had the nerve to strike first. Her brain instantly kicked into overdrive, racing to formulate the perfect, diplomatic response for when Clif inevitably turned his interrogation on her.

But Clif didn't look at her. Instead, he just stared at Dustin and asked, "Did you believe her?"

"I’m not a three-year-old," Dustin scoffed.

"Good," Clif said smoothly. "Adults often speak total nonsense. Just because someone talks about ghosts doesn't mean they've actually seen one. And it certainly has nothing to do with being superstitious."

"Mm," Dustin grunted in acknowledgment.

The two of them carried on this bizarre, hyper-casual exchange as if this educational method was completely normal for them. Sitting on the sidelines, Kerry felt a sharp spike of irritation sticking in her throat.

Total nonsense?! Kerry fumed internally. I'd rather he just called me superstitious!

"Since neither of you have any issues," Clif announced, officially bringing the gavel down. "From now on, you'll have six sessions a week. Every day at this time, except Sundays."

Kerry looked up, genuinely startled. "Six sessions a week?"

Clif raised an eyebrow at her. "You don't have the time?"

"No, it's not that," Kerry smiled quickly. "I’m just worried that with such a high density of classes, Dustin might find it a bit overwhelming."

"Then he’ll just have to get used to the frequency," Clif replied dismissively.

Kerry honestly didn't care. In fact, beneath her polite concern, her heart was practically doing backflips. Six sessions a week? At this rate? I am going to be rich.

Basking in her internal greed, Kerry put on her absolute best dedicated educator face. "Understood. Dustin and I will work hard together."

After lunch, Kerry needed to head back downtown. Clif casually mentioned he had business in the city and offered to drop her off.

Kerry aggressively, but politely, declined. Are you kidding me? Vanguard hadn't even processed her health insurance paperwork yet. There was absolutely no way in hell she was getting back into a car driven by the Grim Reaper himself. He might have nine lives, but she only had one, and she wasn't going to risk it as collateral damage in his next demolition derby.

Clif clearly knew exactly why she was refusing. This time, he didn't call her out on it. He simply ordered his driver to take her back in one of the company's other cars. Kerry accepted immediately.

The driver dropped her off in a bustling commercial district. But instead of walking back to Vanguard, Kerry immediately flagged down a taxi.

"Driver," she said quickly as she climbed in. "Take me to the nearest hospital or disease control center. Whichever one administers emergency vaccines."

The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror. Hearing the urgency in her voice, he asked worriedly, "Did you get bit by a stray dog?"

Seeing the man’s genuine concern, Kerry softened her tone. "Don't worry, sir. I wasn't bitten by a dog, and I’m not contagious. I just need to take some preventative measures."

Twenty minutes later, Kerry walked into the urgent care wing of the local hospital. She sat down in front of the attending physician, her face completely deadpan. "Hello, doctor. I need a rabies vaccine. There's an animal in the house, and I’m worried about getting bitten."

The doctor was busy with paperwork and didn't seem too alarmed since she hadn't actually been bitten. Then Kerry added, "Doctor, what kind of vaccines do you need if the house also has cold-blooded animals?"

"You don't need vaccines for cold-blooded animals," the doctor replied.

Kerry frowned slightly. "What about small mammals? Like squirrels or chinchillas?"

The doctor finally stopped writing, turned around, and stared at her. "Are you running a zoo in your house?"

Kerry sighed, the memory playing vividly in her mind. During her tense standoff with Dustin Condon in his room, he had stared at her for a few seconds before suddenly saying, "You are sitting on my squirrel!"

It was the very first time in her life she had seen a squirrel outside of a cartoon, and honestly, the tail wasn't nearly as fluffy as she had imagined.

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