After discovering I was the only daughter of the richest man in the country, my part-time private tutor actually decided she wanted to be my stepmother.
On her very first day, the new tutor pointed at my desk full of stationery and barked,
“They say failing students always have too much stationery. What’s all this colorful junk? No wonder you can’t focus!”
She moved to throw my pen case into the trash, and I hurried to stop her.
“Ms. Brooks, the set of pens you’re holding is a Montblanc Limited Edition collection. The cheapest one costs at least $7,000.”
Brooks’ eyes widened before she snapped at me,
“You spoiled brat! Spending that much on stationery—what man would ever want to marry you?”
I smacked her hand away, irritation rising. “My dad’s willing to buy it for me—why should you care? Instead of worrying whether I’ll get married, maybe worry about yourself!”
It was a casual remark, but Brooks clearly took it to heart.
While I was out shopping, she slipped into my designer dress, slathered on my skincare products, and lounged on my bed.
“A little girl like you doesn’t even know how to use these expensive things. You should let me take them off your hands!”
“Besides, in a couple of days, I’ll be married to your dad. Then I’ll be your stepmom, and you’ll have to do as I say!”
I took a step back and pulled out my phone.
“Dad, aren’t you and Mom on the Alaska wilderness research trip? When did you have time to find me a stepmother?”
…
On her first day in my home, Amanda Brooks tried to establish dominance by pointing at my desk and scolding,
“They say failing students always have too much stationery. What’s all this colorful junk? No wonder you can’t focus!”
I bit back a sigh and tried to explain patiently.
“Ms. Brooks, I actually use all of this for studying. Most of it is a reward from my family whenever I score well. None of it distracts me.”
But it was as if she couldn’t understand human speech. She swept a stack of my loose-leaf notebooks onto the floor.
“Talking back already? I’m in charge of your summer studies. If I say you can’t keep it, it’s gone!”
She grabbed my pen case and peered inside with disdain.
“As long as a pen writes, it’s fine. Why buy so many fancy ones? Totally impractical! Probably not worth much anyway—let’s just toss it all!”
Seeing she was about to dump the entire case in the trash, I stepped in quickly.
“Ms. Brooks, that’s a Montblanc Limited Edition set. The cheapest pen is worth at least $7,000. Together with two rare enamel antique pens, the whole set is worth over $400,000.”
Before I could finish, Brooks interrupted with a mocking laugh.
“Four hundred grand? Why not say four million while you’re at it? Who’d believe that a tiny pen case could be worth as much as a downtown condo?”
“You’re too young to be so dishonest. I’ll just see for myself how much this ‘junk’ is really worth!”
She snapped a few photos of the pens and searched them on a shopping app.
I used the chance to snatch the case back. “Believe it or not, these are my personal belongings. You have no right to touch them.”
When the search results popped up, Brooks’ face paled. She muttered, “No way… fake, right? How could they really be worth that much?”
Her eyes roamed my desk again and landed on an oil painting my dad had given me, his signature neatly at the bottom. She stared at it for a long time.
“Alexander Hayes? That name sounds familiar… isn’t that the same as the chairman of Hayes Group?”
I shrugged.
“My dad is the Alexander Hayes you’re talking about.”
“What did you say?”
Brooks’ mouth fell open in disbelief, then her face lit up with almost manic excitement.
“I can’t believe my luck! I took a part-time tutoring job and ended up in the richest family in the country!”
“Wait—could it be that he saw my photo and…”
Her cheeks flushed for no reason, but when she turned back to me, her face twisted into the same nasty sneer as before.
“You spoiled brat! Spending so much on stationery—what man would ever marry you?”
“Do you know how hard your father works to make money? What a tragedy for a family to have such a waste of a daughter!”
As she spoke, she jabbed her manicured finger hard against my forehead, like some old-time mistress scolding a servant girl.
I slapped her hand away.
“My dad’s money is his to spend on me—what’s it to you? You’re not my mother. Since when do you get to feel sorry for him about how he spends his money?”
“Instead of worrying about whether I’ll get married, why not worry about yourself?”
Brooks clearly hadn’t expected me to talk back. She looked like she was about to slap me, then suddenly stopped, as if something had just occurred to her. Her expression shifted into giddy delight.
“You’re right. Why didn’t I think of that before?”
Before I could say a word, she was lost in her own little world, giggling to herself as she opened her book, claiming she was going to teach me.
I’d never met anyone so unhinged. I wanted to replace her immediately, but my dad had told me that morning he’d be accompanying my mom on the Alaska wilderness research expedition and would be out of contact for a week. I had no way to reach them.
We’d barely gone through two problems when Brooks, working through the final one, wrote down a completely wrong equation.
“Ms. Brooks, I think this equation’s wrong,” I said, jotting down the correct version on my scratch paper.
She reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, jumping up and smacking the back of my head.
“I did that on purpose! I wanted to see if you were paying attention!”
“And what’s with your attitude? You should be speaking to me with more respect!”
“To make sure you learn your lesson, write this equation one hundred times—no, a thousand!”
“I’ll sit right here and watch. You’re not eating until you finish!”
My temper finally snapped.
“I’ve never been physically punished in my life—who do you think you are? Even the best teachers don’t make up ridiculous rules like yours!”
“Get out of my house! I don’t ever want you teaching me again!”
I’d been top of my class every year. I didn’t even need a tutor—my parents had only hired one to help me prepare for the Hayes University Junior Program entrance exam next year. All she was supposed to do was watch me work and explain when necessary.
But they’d found this lunatic instead, and having her here was a total waste of my time.
Brooks looked like she was about to explode, but the commotion brought Linda and the driver running. They’d never seen me this angry and quickly ushered Brooks out to calm the situation.
That night, she didn’t return.
I thought she’d been sent away for good—until the next day, when she showed up at my door in a skintight mini skirt and heavy makeup.
“Little girl, telling me to leave won’t work. Your dad already said I’m to be your summer tutor!”
She looked smug as she flopped down on the sofa.
Then came the line that made my eye twitch.
“Come over here and massage my legs!”
She ordered me around like she owned the place.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Get out of my house!”
I couldn’t stand having someone like her in my home for even a second longer. I was ready to throw her out immediately.
But instead of leaving, she pulled out her phone.
“Look closely—this is a message from your dad himself. It clearly says I’m to be your private tutor!”
She shoved the phone in my face.
The message said exactly what she claimed, and the number was indeed registered under one of my dad’s phones—though it was one he rarely used.
The problem was, at this very moment, Dad should still be with Mom on the Alaska wilderness expedition.
Forget whether there was even cell service out there—
Even if there were, Dad would never just make such a decision without first asking me what happened.
“Oh, enough with the lip, little girl. Stop wasting my time and sit down for class!”
Brooks curled her lip, momentarily slipping back into something like “normal.”
I gave a cold snort and walked toward my desk, but I’d already made up my mind.
If I was certain Dad didn’t send that text, then who did—and how did they get hold of his number?
Since it would be another week before I could contact him, I decided I’d just tolerate her until then.
“Hey, I’m thirsty. Can’t you get me a glass of water?”
I had barely taken a few steps when Brooks started her nonsense again.
The irritation I’d just managed to tamp down flared right back up.
“If you’re going to be a tutor, at least act like one. You’re not a guest here—you’re here to do a job. You don’t get to ask me to do anything for you.”
I fixed her with a frosty glare.
Even if I’d decided to bide my time and watch what crazy stunt she’d pull next, I’d never said I’d pamper her like some doting relative.
“What’s that supposed to mean, you brat?”
“Are you looking down on me as your teacher?”
Her temper flared instantly. She slammed her palm onto the table and jabbed a finger toward my face.
“Don’t you know what it means to respect your teachers? Even if you compare me to a service worker, I’m still your teacher!”
“What, a teacher comes to your house to give you lessons and can’t even get a glass of water?”
Her face twisted with rage.
I frowned—this woman was seriously unwell, jumping to conclusions before I could finish a sentence.
“If you acted like a normal teacher, I’d show you plenty of respect. But do you?”
I stared her down and shot the question back at her.
“You—!” Brooks was so angry she could barely breathe.
Before we could start yelling again, Linda, who had been silently watching, stepped forward.
“Sorry, Ms. Brooks. Our Miss Hayes has always been very straightforward. Please don’t take it personally.”
“And as for serving refreshments, that’s my job, so this is on me.”
I frowned. If she wanted to smooth things over, fine—but why was she making it sound like I was at fault?
Brooks, however, tilted her chin up smugly. “Good. Be smart about it, or you won’t even keep your job as a housekeeper.”
I was stunned.
“Excuse me? What right do you have to fire anyone in my house?”
I was seriously done with this woman.
We hadn’t even started the lesson and I was already about to explode.
But to my question, Brooks only gave a strange little smile.
“Heh… you’ll understand soon enough.”
