Woman Becomes Emergency Tutor For Troubled Teen, Unaware The Millionaire Father Will Fall For Her
An Urgent Assignment at the Mansion
The phone call came just as Julia Adams was packing up her desk, ready to admit defeat. Three months without a teaching position, rent due in a week, and her student loans were looming like storm clouds.
“Hello,” she answered, trying to mask the desperation in her voice.
“Is this Julia Adams?”
“The English and literature tutor,” the woman’s voice was crisp and professional.
“Yes, speaking.”
Julia straightened her posture reflexively, as if the caller could somehow see her through the phone.
“This is Margaret Winters from Wellington Academy. We have an urgent situation with one of our senior students.”
“I understand you’ve applied for our substitute teaching position, but I’m calling about something more immediate.”
Twenty-four hours later, Julia found herself standing outside an imposing wrought-iron gate, clutching her weathered leather satchel filled with teaching materials.
The mansion beyond the gate sprawled across manicured grounds like something from a period drama. Her small Honda Civic looked embarrassingly out of place in the circular driveway.
As she parked beside a fountain depicting Greek gods, the intercom buzzed and Julia identified herself with a voice that sounded steadier than she felt.
The gate swung open silently, and she drove up the winding driveway, the gravel crunching beneath her tires.
A stern-faced housekeeper met her at the door.
“Mr. Elliot is away on business. I’m Mrs. Hendrix. The young master is in the library.”
She didn’t wait for Julia to respond before turning on her heel and leading the way through the marble-floored entrance hall.
Julia followed, taking in the high ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers. She saw the original artwork on the walls and the elegant antique furniture that probably cost more than her entire apartment.
The library was a book lover’s dream: two stories of floor-to-ceiling shelves, rolling ladders, plush leather chairs, and a massive oak desk by the window.
A teenage boy slouched in one of the chairs, headphones over his ears. His attention was fixed on a gaming device in his hands.
“Tyler,” Mrs. Hendrix said sharply, “Your tutor is here.”
The boy, Tyler, didn’t look up. Mrs. Hendricks cleared her throat loudly.
“Tyler Elliot!”
With exaggerated slowness, Tyler removed his headphones and glanced up. Julia estimated him to be about sixteen, with sandy brown hair that fell across his forehead and dark eyes.
His eyes held a mixture of boredom and defiance.
“Another one,” he said.
His tone made it clear Julia was just the latest in a line of tutors who had failed to impress him.
“Miss Adams will be working with you daily until your English and literature grades improve,” Mrs. Hendrix said. “Your father was very clear about the consequences if they don’t.”
“Whatever,” Tyler muttered, returning his attention to his game.
Mrs. Hendrix turned to Julia.
“Mr. Elliot pays generously for results, Miss Adams. Tyler needs to pass his upcoming exams with at least a B average.”
“The previous tutors were unable to motivate him.”
Her tone suggested Julia would likely fail as well.
“You’ll work with him from 3:00 to 6:00, Monday through Friday. Any questions?”
Julia had dozens, but she simply shook her head.
“Good. I’ll leave you to it, then.”
With that, Mrs. Hendrix departed, the click of her heels fading down the hallway.
Julia sat down her bag and pulled up a chair across from Tyler.
“So, Tyler, I’m Julia Adams. I understand you’re having some trouble with English and literature.”
Tyler didn’t look up.
“I’m not having trouble. I’m just not doing it.”
“May I ask why?”
“Because it’s pointless.”
Julia leaned forward slightly.
“What are you reading in class right now?”
“Some boring book about a guy who talks to a bird.”
Julia smiled despite herself.
“Edgar Allan Poe, ‘The Raven’?”
Tyler shrugged, still focused on his game.
“You know,” Julia said, “Poe was actually one of the first American writers to try to make a living solely from writing.”
“He was constantly broke, often starving, and died under mysterious circumstances, possibly murder.”
For a brief moment, Tyler’s fingers paused over his game.
“He also pioneered detective fiction,” Julia continued. “Basically, he invented the genre. Without Poe, we wouldn’t have shows like Criminal Minds or CSI.”
