Meeting the Children

Hannah

If anyone had asked me two weeks ago where I'd be right now, I would have laughed so hard I might have choked on my own sarcasm.

"I'll be a live-in tutor at the Walton Estate," I would have said.

"Walton?" they'd ask.

"Yes. Billionaire. Rich. Scary. Potentially homicidal if I screw up. No pressure."

They'd probably call the men in white coats after that one. And yet... here I was, standing in front of a colossal gate that practically screamed you do not belong here, gripping my bag like a lifeline.

I took a deep breath. Okay. I could do this, I'm only here to meet the children and go over the plans and schedule before I finally move in. I could be responsible. Polite. Charming. Totally competent. I was not going to trip over a stone, spill coffee on anyone, or-God forbid-hit anyone with a plank.

My nervousness made me forget I was limping.

I tried to remind myself that I had saved a child from being hit by a car just yesterday. Surely that counted for something.

As the gates opened, I noticed the driveway stretched farther than my entire college campus. The estate itself was huge-manicured hedges, fountains that probably required a small army to maintain, and a front door that could double as a castle gate.

I reminded myself to breathe.

"Good morning!" I called out as I approached the door, trying to sound cheerful but calm, professional. Not panicked. Not sweaty. Not like I had just wrestled traffic and survived.

A maid-I assumed-opened the door, eyebrows raised, clipboard in hand.

"You must be Miss Milton," she said, voice polite but tinged with curiosity.

"That's me," I said, offering a smile.

She glanced at my leg. Limp. Bandage. Slight bruise. Yep, they'd notice. "Right this way."

I followed her into the estate, the kind of building that made me want to whisper excuse me, may I live here? just to feel slightly less intrusive. The floors gleamed as though a team of angels polished them nightly. I tried not to imagine walking across it in my sneakers from earlier.

Then it happened.

A small, human-shaped missile came barreling down the hallway toward me.

"Miss! Miss!"

I turned, heart in my throat.

And collided with the source of panic-a small boy about six years old, arms flailing like he'd just discovered gravity and hated it.

"Oh no," I muttered.

"Don't worry!" I said instinctively to myself. "I've got this."

Because what else do you say when a six-year-old charges at you full speed?

And just like that, I realized... I had met Adam Walton, the youngest of the three children I was now responsible for helping educate. And judging by his grin, he already knew I was about to be thoroughly tested.

"You're Adam!" I said, crouching to his level. "Hi! Nice to meet you. I heard you're the fastest boy in the estate."

"Faster than Daddy!" he shouted, puffing out his chest. "I almost got hit by a car yesterday but she saved me!" he said to the maid.

I froze, remembering the incident of yesterday. The pain in my leg, the adrenaline, the panic. And now I was being hailed as a hero by a six-year-old who had apparently announced it to the entire staff over and over again.

"Uh..." I laughed nervously. "Yes. That was me. Hero. Slightly battered, but alive. We'll call it a win."

Adam's eyes sparkled. "You're my hero! I like you!"

I blinked. Okay. Not terrifying. Cute, maybe. But definitely, definitely chaotic.

And then I heard it: the soft shuffle of a much larger presence.

He was here.

Benjamin Walton.

I turned-and froze. There he stood,looking so beautifully framed by the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Calm. Powerful. Handsome. Annoying. And terrifying, all at once.

"Adam," he said evenly, voice like polished marble.

Benjamin's lips twitched ever so slightly. Something like a smile-but not quite. Eyes narrowed, assessing. Judging. Calculating.

I swallowed. And said nothing. Because honestly, words seemed inadequate in front of someone like him.

Susan appeared at his side-Susan, I later learned that she's the Head manager, nanny, orchestrator of household sanity, whatever that is. She gave me a measured glance, one of those looks that silently says you're new and I'm suspicious, but we'll see.

Benjamin straightened. "Miss Milton, come with me. Let's discuss your responsibilities."

I followed, limping slightly, trying to look dignified. Which is a challenge when your leg is throbbing and your heart is doing weird things every time he glances at you.

---

The meeting was... informative.

Benjamin outlined his expectations with military precision. Homework, manners, schedules, tutoring sessions, extracurriculars. All of it. My notebook filled faster than my brain could process.

"And," he said finally, "I need someone I can trust around my children. Responsible, reliable, observant, proactive."

"Yes," I said quickly. "Totally. Absolutely. Usually. Today excepted."

He raised an eyebrow. "Today excepted?"

I flushed. "I mean... it's been... eventful so far."

He glanced at Adam, who gave me a thumbs-up. And then Benjamin's expression softened slightly. But just slightly. Enough to let me know he noticed I wasn't completely reckless.

We moved on to Elena and Alex, who were far more skeptical. Fourteen and ten, respectively, with opinions sharper than their father's briefcase collection. They studied me like a new species. I smiled. Too hard. Blinked. Limped. Waved. Hoping they would interpret my chaos as... charm.

Elena crossed her arms. "You saved him?," she said bluntly.

"Yes," I admitted. "But he's okay now. And we bonded over danger and adrenaline."

Alex's eyes lit up. "You saved Adam? Cool! Can you do magic too?"

"Magic?" I asked, trying to keep a straight face.

"Yes," he said seriously. "Like disappearing snacks. Or turning homework into fun."

I laughed. "I'll work on it."

Benjamin watched silently, his eyes occasionally flicking to me, the children, and back. There was judgment there, yes-but also... something softer. Concern, maybe. Approval, possibly. And definitely curiosity.

By the end of the first day, I had survived Adam's endless questions, Elena's sharp tongue, Alex's mischief, and Benjamin's inscrutable gaze.

I collapsed onto my bed later the moment I got back, exhausted. But alive. Heroism still intact. And somewhere deep inside, a small spark of something... hopeful.

I need all the strength and luck I can get to survive my first official day and moving in at the Walton's tomorrow.

Because for all his control, his poise, his wealth, and his intimidating presence, Benjamin Walton's eyes had betrayed something he was trying very hard to hide and I'm not sure if that scared me... or thrilled me.

---

Surviving the Walton Circus

Hannah

If someone had told me that starting a tutoring job at the estate of the richest man in the world would involve navigating a minefield of mini-dictators, scheming staff, and passive-aggressive billionaires... I would have laughed. Then probably cried. Then laughed some more because crying would look like weakness.

Welcome to my life.

I arrived just after breakfast, still nursing my bruised knee and a growing sense that my life had officially become a low-budget action movie with terrible lighting and questionable dialogue. My brief glimpse of Benjamin earlier had been... unsettling, to say the least. He was everything I hadn't expected. Handsome, intimidating, infuriating, and somehow... compelling. And let's not even talk about how he had just seen me limping and still hadn't thrown me out.

I took a deep breath, plastered on a smile, and stepped inside, trying to look like the responsible, highly competent, not-recently-drunk, soon-to-be-perfect tutor I had promised myself I could be.

Susan Collins was waiting in the foyer. Of course she was. Of course.

She gave me that tight-lipped, smile-half warm welcome, half warning shot. The kind of smile that said, I know your type, young lady, and I will eat you alive if you screw up.

"Miss Milton," she said smoothly, extending her hand. I shook it, trying to ignore the little thrill of irritation I felt. She then signaled a man to get my luggage. The woman practically radiated superiority. And jealousy. Definitely jealousy.

"Good morning, Susan," I said brightly. "Lovely day for teaching future geniuses, isn't it?"

Her eyes flicked at my limp, the faint bruise peeking through my skirt, and her expression tightened. "Yes. Very... educational." She didn't elaborate, which in my experience meant she was plotting something. Classic villain behavior.

Before I could respond, Alex barreled down the grand staircase, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Hannah! Come quick! Daddy says it's time for math... but also for fun!"

I groaned inwardly. Fun was usually code for chaos with sugar on top. Still, I squared my shoulders. "Lead the way, math genius."

Adam toddled behind him, dragging a stuffed giraffe and looking at me with those big, trusting eyes. "I get to sit on your lap!"

I nearly melted. Nope. Don't melt. Focus. "Not today, little man. But close enough."

Benjamin appeared at the top of the staircase, arms crossed, observing with that I-am-rich-and-you-are-not expression that made my heart skip in irrational ways.

"Miss Milton," he said, voice calm but firm. "I trust the children are behaving?"

I shot him a sideways glance. "I can handle them. I've survived worse... like people with wooden planks and mistaken intentions."

He arched an eyebrow. "Ah. The hiking incident."

I waved a hand dismissively. "A minor misunderstanding. Easily solved with a small dose of heroism and a large dose of panic."

He didn't laugh, but there was a flicker-an eyebrow twitch, maybe a hint of amusement. Progress.

Susan cleared her throat. "They are... very excited to meet you."

Alex looked up at her, frowning. "Susan, she's not like you. She's... fun."

Susan's face hardened. "Fun is not the goal here, Alexander."

I stifled a laugh. Fun is definitely the goal when survival depends on distracting them long enough to actually learn something.

We settled in the sunroom. Alex immediately began scribbling numbers on a whiteboard while Adam climbed onto my lap and insisted I tell him a story about "the girl who fights cars and villains."

I glanced at Benjamin, who was leaning against the doorway, arms folded, expression unreadable. "I promise, Adam, this story has a happy ending."

He looked skeptical. I didn't blame him. I was still bruised, limping, and probably looked like a trainwreck in a designer dress.

"Miss Milton," Benjamin said, stepping closer, "how exactly do you plan to teach multiplication to a six-year-old while keeping him entertained?"

I smirked. "With a combination of storytelling, snacks, and... intense charisma."

Benjamin raised an eyebrow. "Intense charisma?"

"Trust me," I said, leaning toward Adam. "You want intense charisma."

Adam giggled, clapping his hands. Alex rolled his eyes, muttering something about "seriously, Miss, why are you like this?"

Benjamin's gaze flicked between us. "I see. And this... intense charisma... is it effective?"

I shrugged. "So far, so good. My biggest challenge isn't teaching-they actually like learning-but rather surviving the wrath of staff members who apparently have something personal against me."

Susan's jaw tightened. "I assure you, Miss Milton, that's not the case."

"Uh-huh," I said, voice dripping with mock sincerity. "And I'm sure your plan to subtly sabotage me is purely imaginary, right?"

Benjamin's lips twitched. That twitch again. Almost a smile. He's trying not to smile, I realized. I could practically see the mental gears grinding behind those perfect hazel eyes.

Susan cleared her throat, muttering something about "professionalism" and "standards."

I waved her off. "Relax, Susan. I'm not here to steal your crown. I'm here to teach numbers... and occasionally save the lives of your boss's children."

Benjamin's expression softened slightly. He leaned against the doorway, one hand brushing through his hair. He looked... human. Vulnerable, even. And dangerously appealing.

I caught him staring at me, just slightly, and decided to poke the bear. "Yes, I know I saved your son. I also know I limped into your garden looking like a wounded warrior. And yet... here I am. Alive. Relatively intact. And ready to teach."

He raised an eyebrow. "You do have a flair for dramatics."

"Dramatics? Me? Never." I shot Adam a playful wink. "Just ask the boy who witnessed the car incident firsthand. I'm basically a legend in my own lunchtime."

Adam cheered. Alex groaned. Benjamin... let's just say the eyebrow lift could have been an entire novel.

Susan frowned, muttering under her breath. "This is not how we do things here..."

I leaned back, pretending to ignore her. "Oh, don't worry. I'll teach the kids. You can supervise... emotionally."

Benjamin's lips twitched again. "You are... bold." he said.

"Bold? Sarcastic? Heroic? Take your pick. I'm all of the above."

I spent the next hour juggling multiplication tables, storytelling, and very small threats of minor parental embarrassment (mostly involving imaginary dragons and treasure hunts). The children were riveted. Benjamin watched quietly, leaning against the wall, his gaze following me like a hawk disguised as a human.

And I, of course, noticed every little detail: the slight crease in his brow when Adam made a mistake, the way his arms flexed when he adjusted his cufflinks, the faint exhale when Alex finally solved a tricky problem.

By the end of the session, the boys were laughing, learning, and generally looking up at me with admiration bordering on worship. I straightened, brushing imaginary dust from my hands. "And that, gentlemen, is how you turn math into an adventure. You're welcome."

Benjamin's gaze met mine. "You... have a way of commanding attention."

I smiled, ever so slightly, leaning on the table with mock gravitas. "I've been told it's a gift. Along with my knack for dramatic heroism, excellent posture while limping, and... sarcasm."

He didn't smile, but he didn't frown either. That was dangerous. That was the expression of someone assessing, calculating... and maybe, just maybe... intrigued.

Susan, of course, looked horrified. "This is highly irregular," she said.

I shrugged. "Irregular is my middle name. Well, not literally, but you get the point."

Benjamin's gaze softened slightly, just enough to betray interest, but not enough to ruin his reputation as the untouchable billionaire. I made a mental note: the man has a poker face worth a million dollars. Literally. Probably more.

The boys clambered onto the couch, still buzzing with energy. Adam leaned against me, whispering, "I like her, Daddy. She's fun!"

I shot Benjamin a wink. "See? You can't argue with that logic."

Benjamin exhaled slowly. "No, I... suppose you're right."

I grinned. Victory never tasted so sweet-though I knew the battle with Susan was far from over. She was a storm I had yet to fully understand, but at least for now, I had Benjamin's reluctant approval.

And maybe... just maybe... that approval was starting to feel... complicated.

Very, very complicated.

---