Chapter 19

Kerry showed up at the Condon estate six times that week. Aside from personally driving her back to the city on that first disastrous day, Clifton Condon never showed his face again.

But to the outside world, that one public appearance was more than enough. Fueled by their own wild imaginations, the Seattle elite had already decided that the hundred minutes Kerry spent locked in the Condon estate every day involved "tutoring" of a vastly different nature.

Kerry couldn't control what people thought, and frankly, she didn't have the time to care. She was practically run off her feet.

From the first wealthy socialite who called Vanguard specifically requesting her, to the executives who started showing up in the lobby hoping to "accidentally" bump into her, her name had exploded across the city's private education sector overnight. Vanguard was suddenly as packed as a nightclub on a Friday.

In the past, whenever a VIP client walked through the doors, the tutors would secretly place bets: "Which subject do you think they're here for?"

Now? There was no need to guess. Liz Pearl summed it up perfectly: "These parents don't even care what their kids are actually struggling with. Whatever subject Ms. Jones happens to teach, that's the subject their kid is suddenly failing."

It was crude, but it was accurate. There were so many people specifically requesting Kerry that even Daniel Heimler started to get worried.

"This is dangerous," Daniel warned her in the breakroom. "The VP isn't giving you tight shoes to wear anymore. She's switched tactics. This is kill-by-praise. She's letting them put you on such a high pedestal that when you finally slip, the fall will break your neck."

Kerry just laughed, casually flipping through a stack of new client files. "Look at this one. The kid is a varsity swimmer, already recruited for a collegiate sports program. Why would he need me? Oh, maybe he just developed a sudden passion for advanced calculus. And this one! The kid is starting first grade next month. First grade. And this woman... she says she's looking for a tutor for her 'cousin’s wife’s son.' With a connection that distant, I’d love to know where the actual parents are."

Daniel couldn't help but laugh. Just like that, Kerry had gone from being the office pariah to an overnight sensation. Even Maggie Dolley had to bitterly accept that she couldn't get rid of this thorn in her side anytime soon.

The tallest nail gets hammered. Kerry knew she couldn't afford to trigger the collective jealousy of the entire office this early in her career. So, while everyone was glaring at her with red eyes, she did the smartest thing possible: she openly and generously shared the wealth.

Since ninety percent of these clients only wanted to hire her to get closer to Clifton Condon, she handed the overflow directly to her coworkers. She only had two hands; she wasn't about to try and hoard the entire market.

Of course, Kerry wasn't a saint. She filtered out the absolute lunatics and kept two highly lucrative, genuinely reliable clients for herself, signing them to trial contracts.

She was ambitious, but she wasn't greedy. She knew when to stop.

However, hidden among this wave of new clients was an outlier. His name was Carter Von. He hadn't come for the Condon connection, and he certainly hadn't come for the academics. He had come purely for Kerry's face.

From their very first meeting, Carter made his intentions aggressively clear. Kerry immediately sensed he was trouble and tried to avoid him, but the man was like a lingering ghost. He started having massive, ostentatious bouquets of flowers delivered directly to Vanguard.

Left with no other choice, Kerry pulled him aside. "I'm sorry, Mr. Von, but I am currently not looking to date anyone."

Carter just flashed a sleazy, entitled smirk. "But the second I saw you, I got the overwhelming urge to date you. What are we going to do about that?"

Kerry had been beautiful her entire life. She had dealt with obsessive stalkers from half the states in the country. Her strategy for this type was simple: absolute cold treatment. Freeze them out until they get bored and leave.

On Monday morning at 9:50 AM, Kerry walked out of the Vanguard building. She had noticed the Condon driver always arrived a few minutes early, so she intentionally went down ahead of schedule to avoid running into anyone.

But the early bird doesn't always get the worm. Sometimes, it steps on a snake.

A sleek sports car was parked illegally on the curb. Carter Von was leaning against it, holding a massive, obnoxious bouquet of red roses.

Kerry instantly pivoted, speed-walking in the opposite direction.

"Kerry!" Carter shouted, his voice echoing down the busy commercial street.

Kerry pretended she was deaf and walked faster. She could hear his heavy footsteps rushing up behind her. Just as Carter reached out to grab her arm, Kerry—acting as if she had eyes in the back of her head—hit the brakes and sidestepped perfectly, letting his hand grasp nothing but empty air.

Carter laughed, pulling his hand back. "Why are you running?"

Kerry looked at him with dead eyes. "Mr. Von. What a coincidence."

Carter’s smile widened as he shoved the massive bouquet toward her chest. It was a busy downtown district, and the scene was already drawing stares from pedestrians.

Kerry didn't even raise her hands to take them. "Mr. Von, I have told you many times. I am not interested in dating."

"Then just pretend they're not roses," Carter insisted.

Kerry remained completely unmoved.

Carter lowered his voice, his tone shifting into something a little more demanding. "There are a lot of people watching. Give me some face."

"The girls standing behind you seem very excited," Kerry replied coolly, her voice equally low. "I'm sure they would love to have them."

Carter turned around. A few feet away, a group of young women with their phones out suddenly froze, looking like startled quails. Carter was undeniably handsome—the wealthy, bad-boy type that turned heads—and he knew it.

He looked at the girls and raised his voice. "Do you want these?"

The crowd of onlookers was growing thicker. One bold girl in the group actually nodded. "Yes!"

Good, Kerry thought. Give them the flowers and let me leave.

Instead, Carter waved the girl over. When she excitedly stepped up to him, Carter leaned in. Using a voice just loud enough for Kerry and the girl to hear, he sneered, "You want them? Look in the mirror first. Do you honestly think you're as pretty as her?"

The girl instantly froze, her face draining of color. Completely humiliated, she stared blankly at Kerry before turning and running away in tears. The surrounding crowd, not hearing what was said, began whispering in confusion.

Carter turned back to Kerry, a sick, victorious smile on his face. "See? I only like you."

Kerry’s face went glacial. She stared at him for three solid seconds, completely disgusted. Without a single word, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Carter chased after her and grabbed her arm.

Kerry tried to rip her arm away, but his grip was like a vice. "Let go," she demanded, her voice dropping an octave.

"I'm not letting go," Carter laughed shamelessly. "If you're mad, go ahead and scream! Let the whole street know that Carter Von is chasing you!"

Kerry furrowed her brows, pure anger boiling in her chest. Just as she was calculating the legal repercussions of breaking his nose, she looked over Carter's shoulder.

Three men were walking rapidly toward them. The man in the lead was the familiar face of the Condon family driver. The two men flanking him, with thick muscles and dead-eyed expressions, were undeniably private bodyguards.

Carter was still grinning, fully convinced Kerry was helpless.

Suddenly, a massive hand clamped down on Carter’s shoulder from behind. A sharp, agonizing pressure hit a nerve in his arm, forcing his grip to instantly release. The roses hit the pavement.

The driver stepped directly in front of Kerry, his face tense. "Ms. Jones, are you alright?"

Kerry nodded, rubbing her arm.

Enraged, Carter spun around and tried to shove the bodyguard. The guard didn't even blink. With one fluid, brutal motion, he executed a perfect sweep-kick while twisting Carter’s arm, slamming the wealthy playboy face-first onto the concrete.

The crowd gasped. Phones were out, recording the takedown.

Kerry didn't want this turning into a media spectacle. She looked at the driver and said quietly, "Let him go."

The driver remained perfectly calm. "It's fine. Please get in the car, Ms. Jones. They will handle the cleanup."

Kerry turned and walked straight into the waiting Bentley. The bodyguards finally released Carter. Covered in dirt and utterly humiliated in front of half the financial district, Carter scrambled into his sports car and peeled away.

He barely made it two blocks before his phone started ringing on the dashboard. Still seething, he glanced at the screen.

The caller ID read: Darby Tucker.

Carter hesitated for a few seconds before answering. "Hey, sis."

"That thing I asked you to do," Darby’s elegant, freezing voice drifted through the speakers. "How did it go?"