Chapter 78
2/2
78
+25 BONUS
78
Mr. Holland had a particular love for gardening. His two–story house was filled with blooming flowers, making the whole spare feel surreal. Walking in, it didn’t feel like winter at all it felt like had stepped into a lush, vibrant spring garden.
After we entered, Mr. Holland didn’t even acknowledge us. He went straight to watering his plants, acting like we weren’t there.
“Mr. Holland…” I tried, forcing a sheepish smile as I stepped forward.
He let out a cold huff, not even looking at me,
Following my shameless philosophy—if he didn’t kick me out, there was still hope for forgiveness–I took another step closer , flashing an even more ingratiating grin. “Mt. Holland, let me help you water the plants! You know I’m a pro at this! ”
He huffed again, still ignoring me, but he didn’t say no.
I immediately took the opportunity and grabbed the watering can from his hand.
When he saw me grinning at him like that , instead of his usual huff, he gave a cold chuckle. Then he turned away and dragged Shaun with him to drink tea , fully intent on ignoring me.
His stubborn, proud attitude was oddly endearing.
Before Irvin left earlier, he’d told me to wait for him so we could talk things over. But instead of hearing from him, I saw breaking news about him chartering a private jet to take Julianne abroad for treatment.
The old me would’ve been devastated..
But now? I felt nothing. I hadn’t waited for him, and I certainly didn’t care anymore.
asking Later that night, Jeremy sent me a link, claiming it was full of childhood photos of the two of us. He tried to guilt–trip me, me to help Lily out of her academic mess. If she failed one more class , she’d have to retake the entire course , which might delay her graduation.
I was surprised Jeremy even knew Lily’s “genius student” act was a lie. And yet, he still expected me to help her .
Of course, I didn’t agree with it. Not that I could’ve helped even if I wanted to. But curiosity got the better of me, and I clicked on the link.
The photos hit me hard. Picture after picture of us as kids, showing how much he used to dote on me. My heart ached with a bittersweet mix of nostalgia and pain.
Back then , Jeremy truly cared about me.
What didn’t realize was that while I was lost in memories, my phone had been hacked. The link he sent was embedded with a powerful virus,
It stung. No matter how many times he hurt me, I always held onto the good memories , convincing myself to let go of the anger. But to him, those memories were just weapons to manipulate me.
He knew exactly how to lower my guard.
By the tenth day of watering plants , the stubborn Mr. Holland finally spoke to me.
That evening, thrilled by the breakthrough, I dragged him out for dinner to celebrate. But, of course , my good mood was ruined by a group of obnoxious troublemakers.
“Well, look who it is! If it isn’t Emilia the lapdog,” one sneered.
1/2
78
+25 BONUS
Another chimed in, “Who’s this? Did you ditch Irvin and start clinging to some old guy instead? What is it–does he have more money than Irvin?”
A third added with a mocking laugh, “Come on , there’s no way anyone in Claudeville’s richer than Irvin.”
“Even if there is,” a fourth snickered, “Emilia, don’t you think this is a little gross? Hooking up with someone old enough to be your grandpa?”
“If you’re that desperate for a man,” one of them joked, “we could hook you up with a few guys , no problem.”
Their taunts drew attention , and soon, everyone nearby was staring at me and Mr. Holland.
My expression turned ice–cold. I was about to say something, but Mr. Holland beat me to it. “What nonsense are you spouting?” he barked sternly. “ I’m her mentor!”
The crowd burst into laughter. Someone in the back even doubled over , slapping their knee.
Mr. Holland, a highly respected academic who surrounded himself with intellectuals, was baffled. He didn’t understand what was so funny. His students were always serious and disciplined—even the worst of them , like Lily, weren’t anything like this group of spoiled, uncultured brats.
As he frowned, trying to process their behavior, one of them stepped forward, holding their hand up like a microphone and shoving it in his face.
“So, Mr. Holland,” the guy sneered mockingly, “what exactly do you teach? How to be a homewrecker? Or is that an advanced elective?”
The crowd laughed harder.
“Did you teach Emilia how to steal someone’s boyfriend? And what about keeping the title of Mrs. Sawyer while clinging to her little fantasy?”