The Billionaire And His Children's Tutor
She was supposed to tutor his children.
Not steal his heart.
After a brutal breakup and one very bad night, Hannah Milton becomes a live-in tutor at the powerful Walton estate-where rules are strict, emotions are buried, and falling in love is absolutely forbidden.
Benjamin Walton is older, untouchable, and completely off-limits. He's built his life on control, but Hannah's wit, warmth, and chaos threaten everything he's worked to protect.
As desire ignites and secrets surface, one woman inside the house is determined to destroy Hannah before love can win.
Because some loves aren't meant to happen...
until they do.
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Chapter 6
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.
---
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9.6
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"Holding hands? Dream on."
After the marriage, the man said, "I know you are scared. Let's sleep together tonight."
"I'm not scared."
"I saw you in a dream and heard you say you're scared and want to sleep with me."
"Have you no shame, Charles Darwin?"
"Shame? What is shame?"
7.2
Five years ago, I, Claire Parker, ran away for love with Daniel Carter, the broke boy everyone looked down on. But on the very day we were supposed to leave together, he abandoned me.
Overnight, I became the laughingstock of the entire city and was forced into a marriage alliance with a terminally ill man, Ryan Cooper.
Five years later, my husband died, the marriage arrangement fell apart, and the Cooper family threw me out without a shred of mercy.
Meanwhile, Daniel, the man everyone once sneered at, returned home in glory and became the hottest rising name in the business world.
And somehow, he ended up becoming my boss.
I wanted nothing to do with him, yet he kept closing in on me, cornering me with sarcasm sharp enough to draw blood.
Then one day, Daniel caught me on a date with another man.
His eyes reddened instantly as he pinned me against the wall. "Claire... are you abandoning me again?"
7.6
To pay for her father's life support, Haleigh sold herself into a marriage with Fabian Blackburn, a ruthless billionaire in a deep coma.
But on her wedding day, she caught her boyfriend cheating with her stepsister, laughing about how they would steal the inheritance the second Fabian stopped breathing. Cornered and desperate, Haleigh secretly underwent IVF using her comatose husband's frozen sperm to secure the family trust.
Weeks later, a miracle happened. Fabian woke up.
But instead of gratitude, he treated her like trash. He threw annulment papers at her face, completely disgusted by the arranged marriage.
"If you try any dirty tricks to get pregnant, I will personally drag you to a clinic and have that bastard scraped out of you."
Terrified, Haleigh hid her positive pregnancy test and desperately tried to hack her way to enough cash to escape. But while using his computer, she accidentally opened a highly classified folder.
Inside was a medical file and a photo of a severely disabled girl who looked exactly like Fabian.
Before she could process it, Fabian walked in. Seeing the screen, his cold mask shattered into pure, unhinged madness. He lunged across the room, lifting her off the floor by her throat, completely ignoring her desperate gasps for air.
"Lock her in the basement," he roared to his guards. "No food. No water."
Curled on the freezing concrete, clutching her newly pregnant belly, Haleigh didn't understand what she had just seen that turned him into a murderous monster.
But she knew one thing: if she didn't escape this terrifying estate, both she and his unborn heir would die in the dark.
7.1
They ruined her face. Stole her child. Now she's back-and nothing will stop her.
Five years ago, Raina Carrington lost everything: her beauty, her family, and her newborn baby.
Now she's returned-unrecognizable, unbreakable, and with one goal in mind: to find her son and make them pay. But revenge is never simple, especially when it draws the attention of Leif Vexley-the most powerful and dangerous man in the city-who just might hold the key to her child's past.
Yet she's not the victim anymore.
She's the storm-and she's ready to strike.
8.9
Aubree Hamilton was the top-tier executive assistant to Wall Street's most ruthless titan, Beck Franco. A month ago, she made a catastrophic mistake and spent the night in his bed.
Thinking she had erased the mistake with a morning-after pill, she panicked upon his return and lied about being engaged to push him away.
But Beck, a man who despised disloyalty above all else, immediately suspended her and ordered her escorted out of the building. Her nightmare only escalated when her toxic ex-boyfriend attacked her on the street, tearing her purse open and exposing the empty morning-after pill box to the public—and to Beck, who was watching from his penthouse. After having his security rescue her, Beck trapped her in his car, ruthlessly tearing apart her fake engagement. Later in her apartment, the suffocating tension between them almost ignited into a kiss, but a violent wave of nausea suddenly hit Aubree.
She shoved him away with all her strength and violently threw up in the bathroom.
Beck took it as the ultimate physical disgust. He walked out, deeply humiliated and dangerously obsessed, unleashing his resources to investigate her every move.
Left alone and trembling, Aubree finally checked the crushed white box. The pill she took had expired a month ago.
Staring at the two bright pink lines on the pregnancy test, she made a desperate vow: Beck Franco could never know she was carrying his child, and she had to disappear before he found out.
8.6
I was on my knees in the Ohio dirt, frantically scooping wet coffee grounds back into a torn trash bag while my foster mother screamed that I was a useless waste of space.
Then, ten black Escalades rolled into our rotting trailer park like a funeral procession, and a woman in silk fell to the mud, sobbing that she had finally found her "Elara."
I was whisked away to a mansion that looked like a castle, but the nightmare didn't end with a warm bed and sterilized air.
My brother Harlen looked at me with pure disgust, and when he slapped a chicken leg out of my hand at our first dinner, I instinctively dove under the table to eat it off the rug, begging for mercy through my tears.
My billionaire father, Arthur, watched in silent agony as I tried to wash my own rags in a gold-plated sink at dawn, terrified that I would be starved if I didn't "earn my keep."
He promised me a thousand silk dresses and ordered the trailer park bulldozed to the ground, but I still felt like a prey animal caught by very large, very sad predators.
The trauma wasn't a smudge I could wash off; it was a map of cigarette burns and bruises that I was desperate to hide from the family that had spent millions searching for me.
Just as I thought I might be safe, a black helicopter banked over the lawn, carrying a medical team and a cold order from my oldest brother, the "Shark" of New York.
"No one is ever taking you away," my father growled, shielding me from the men in white coats.
But as the rotors shook the windows, I realized that being found was only the beginning of a different kind of war within the Bridges empire.