The Billionaire And His Children's Tutor

The Boy, the Limp, and the Worst First Impression

(Hannah's POV)

If I had known the day was going to unfold the way it did, I would have stayed in bed and wrapped myself in a blanket like a responsible adult with self-preservation instincts.

But no.

Instead, I woke up early, ironed my blouse, rehearsed polite answers in my head, and convinced myself that today-finally-something good might happen.

I should have known better.

I was halfway down Oakridge Avenue, mentally repeating You are qualified, you are capable, you are not the girl who assaulted an innocent man on a hiking trail, when I heard it.

A scream.

High-pitched. Panicked.

I turned just in time to see a small boy chasing a red ball straight into the road.

And a car.

Everything slowed in that awful, cinematic way that never happens when you want it to.

The driver didn't see him.

The boy didn't see the car.

And my body moved before my brain could start screaming sensible objections.

"Hey!" I shouted, dropping my bag.

I ran.

I don't remember thinking this could hurt. I don't remember thinking this could kill me. I just remember the sound of tires screeching and the feel of small arms colliding with my waist as I grabbed him and twisted us both out of the way.

The impact was sharp and immediate.

Pain shot up my leg as we hit the pavement, the world spinning violently. The ball rolled harmlessly to the curb as the car screeched to a stop inches away from us.

For a moment, everything was noise and chaos and adrenaline.

Then silence.

The boy stared at me with wide, shocked eyes.

"You okay?" I asked breathlessly, wincing as I tried to sit up.

He nodded quickly. "I-I was just playing."

"Yeah," I said weakly. "Roads are terrible playgrounds."

A woman rushed toward us, panic written all over her face.

"Oh my God-Adam!" she cried, pulling him into her arms. Then she turned to me. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

I tried to stand.

That was when my leg betrayed me completely.

I hissed in pain, grabbing my knee as it buckled.

"Are you hurt?" she asked urgently.

"I'm fine," I lied automatically, because that's what women do even when they're clearly not. "Just-uh-gravity and I had a disagreement."

She frowned. "You should see a doctor."

"I have an interview," I blurted, immediately regretting it.

Because when you're injured, late, and trying not to cry in public, priorities apparently leave the building.

She hesitated, then helped me to my feet. Adam clung to her hand, staring at me like I'd just performed a magic trick.

"Thank you," he said solemnly.

"You're welcome," I replied. "Try not to give your mother a heart attack again."

He grinned.

I limped away minutes later, pain radiating with every step, my shoe filling with an uncomfortable warmth that suggested bruising-or worse.

By the time the Walton estate gates came into view, I was sweaty, flustered, and desperately trying not to look like I'd just survived a low-budget action scene.

Which, in hindsight, I failed spectacularly.

---

The maid who attended to me kept looking at me in a disbelieving way before directing me to the garden for my interview.

The garden was impossibly beautiful.

Perfect hedges. Stone paths. A fountain that probably cost more than my tuition.

And standing at the center of it all, looking like a model from a magazine carved into the landscape itself, was Benjamin Walton.

The man from the hiking trail.

Of course he was.

Because apparently the universe has a dark sense of humor.

Our eyes met, and I could practically hear the record scratch.

He looked... put together. Calm, insanely handsome. Controlled. The kind of man who probably woke up looking like this, while I looked like someone who had wrestled fate and lost.

"Miss Milton," he said, his tone cool.

"Mr. Walton," I replied, forcing a smile that probably came out more like a grimace.

His gaze flicked downward.

To my leg.

Which was, unfortunately, betraying me by refusing to function normally.

He frowned slightly. "Are you injured?"

"Oh," I said lightly. "No. This is just my natural walk. Very trendy."

Silence.

He stared at me.

I sighed. "Okay, yes. I'm injured. But I promise I'm not contagious."

He motioned for me to sit, but his expression had shifted-closed, guarded.

"This interview," he said carefully, "is about responsibility."

"Yes," I said quickly. "And I'm very responsible. Usually. Today is just... an off day."

His jaw tightened.

"And the incident on the trail," he added. "Combined with your appearance now-"

Oh.

Oh no.

"I wasn't drunk today," I blurted.

That was not the defense I meant to lead with.

His eyebrow lifted slightly. "I didn't accuse you of anything."

"You were about to," I said. "I can feel it."

A pause.

Then he exhaled slowly. "Miss Milton, I need someone reliable around my children. Someone stable. I can't afford-"

"You think I'm an alcoholic," I said flatly.

He didn't deny it.

I felt heat rise to my face.

"I had a bad night," I said quietly. "One night. I made a mistake. That doesn't define me."

He stood.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't think this will work."

The words hit harder than I expected.

I nodded stiffly, pushing myself to my feet despite the pain. "Thank you for your time."

I turned to leave.

That was when a small voice rang out.

"Daddy!"

Adam whose name I later learned was the little boy I had saved not to long ago.

He came running toward us, eyes lighting up when he saw me.

"It's her!" he exclaimed. "She saved me!"

Benjamin froze.

"She saved me from the car," Adam continued proudly. "She fell and hurt her leg but she still made sure I was okay."

Silence crashed down like a wave.

Susan stepped forward, her expression unreadable. "Sir," she said, "she's the one I told you about. The young woman who rescued Adam this morning."

Benjamin turned to me slowly.

"You," he said. "That was you?"

"Yes," I said. "Though I prefer reckless hero to public menace."

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes.

Guilt.

Concern.

He moved closer, studying my leg. "You're bleeding."

"I know," I said. "I was hoping to ignore it until it went away."

"That's not how injuries work."

"I'm learning that."

A beat.

Then, unexpectedly, he huffed out a quiet laugh.

Barely there-but real.

"Sit," he said firmly. "Before you fall and give me more reasons to worry."

As Susan helped me to the bench, Adam beamed at me like I'd just earned a medal.

Benjamin looked at me differently now.

Not as a mistake.

Not as a liability.

But as something... unexpected.

"I owe you an apology," he said finally. "And a job offer-if you still want it."

I smiled, despite everything.

"I'd be irresponsible to say no," I replied.

And just like that, my worst first impression became the beginning of something I never saw coming