GoodReadI'm Your Saver Raegan shook her head dismissively.
"We're not getting back together.
Last night, I felt ill, and he stayed to care for me." It seemed she was convincing herself more than informing Henley.
Since the divorce, the thought of reuniting with Mitchel hadn't crossed Raegan's mind.
Mitchel was a closed chapter in her eyes.
Yet, his recent words unnerved her.
His casual greeting to Henley indicated a resolve to win her over, exuding an unsettling calmness.
The more Raegan pondered, the more irate she grew.
His love, she surmised, was not for her but for the physical comfort she provided.
Henley, on the other hand, experienced a surge of relief, a sensation he welcomed.
Shaking off his worries, he offered a suave, soothing smile.
"What were you trying to say earlier?” Inhaling deeply, Raegan said apologetically, "Henley, we should cease our
communication.” Henley's expression darkened.
He pinched her wrist subconsciously and demanded, "Why?" The sudden shift in Henley's expression surprised Raegan.
And he pinched her so hard that she felt pain.
"Henley, you're hurting me...” It was not until then that Henley came to his senses, and he quickly let go, his smile returning.
"My apologies, Raegan.
I lost my composure.” Raegan, recovering from her shock, dismissed the incident.
"It's fine.” "This is the second time you want to end things with me.
Is Mr.
Dixon the reason?" Raegan didn't object.
"I'm afraid it will affect your career, so we'd better keep a distance.” Henley's smile was tinged with sadness.
"My career's already affected.
What now?” Confused, Raegan pressed, "What do you mean?” "I've been dismissed.
Accused of manipulating transactions, I'm barred from investment banking." Despite Henley's nonchalant tone, the news stunned
Raegan.
Years of effort gone, Henley’s career dashed because of her.
It was a lot for anyone to bear.
No wonder Mitchel's greeting was so calm earlier.
He couldn't have been unaware of it, and perhaps, even played a role in it.
At a loss for words, Raegan’s concern was evident.
"Henley, I'm sorry.” "It’s nothing,” he replied, the smile never leaving his face.
"I may return to Swynborough.
My family's business is there, beyond others’ reach.” Henley's feigned serenity masked emotions Raegan couldn't decipher.
She felt a deep sorrow and repeated her apology.
Henley's smile softened.
"Don't blame yourself.
Think of it as me going back to claim my inheritance.
Does that ease your mind?” Raegan mused that Henley should have claimed his inheritance earlier, not under duress.
"Raegan, would you like to go with me?" Henley inquired suddenly.
"Me?" Raegan said, taken aback.
While her original intention was to further study in Swynborough, it felt unusual to travel alongside Henley.
They were nothing more than friends and classmates, after all.
"Why?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued.
Henley harbored his own rationale.
His father's company overseas was soon to be his responsibility, and he considered it opportune to take Raegan with him before
leaving this city.
In the realm of looks, Henley differed markedly from Mitchel.
Each had their distinct appeals, defying direct comparison.
Status-wise, Mitchel might not be a match for him abroad.
Winning over a woman should be within his grasp, he surmised.
Yet, a reluctant acknowledgment gnawed at him.
He found himself increasingly invested in Raegan, a realization that soured his mood.
To him, women held little value, a sentiment rooted in the disdain for his mother.
His mother had given birth to him, only to neglect and mistreat him as if he were a mere plaything.
So, when she lay dying from her excesses, he shed no tears, nor did he summon help.
Instead, he observed, impassive, as she struggled through her final moments.
Masking his inner turmoil, Henley offered a justification, "I sense you're not content at home.” Despite the allure of Henley’s
proposition, Raegan remained steadfast in her refusal.
"I'm not ready to consider it," she asserted.
She harbored ambitions to venture abroad, yet was determined to rely on no one but herself.
With a serene smile, Henley reassured, "There's still half a year left.
Should you wish to depart, you'll have me Join you on the journey abroad.” Raegan, unconvinced of the _ feasibility of
accompanying Henley abroad, rose to her feet.
"Henley, one moment," she said before retrieving the gifts Gerda had given her and presenting them to him.
Take them.
My mother gave them to you.
They're yours." Raegan, insistent, refused to accept what she felt was not hers.
Once outside Raegan's place, the warmth drained from Henley's expression, replaced by an icy veneer.
The memory of Raegan's unhesitating rejection inflicted an unfamiliar ache within him.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Could it be a genuine interest in her? Interrupted by a call, Henley responded indifferently, his attention shifting back to Raegan's
window, "Let her know something and bite the bait," he commanded coldly.
At Triclinium Hospital of Ardlens.
Lauren found herself confined in a pitch-black room.
Its airtight seal contained a stench reminiscent of decay, a grim reminder of death's presence.
Mice skittered beneath her, occasionally venturing onto her feet, prompting her to suppress her disgust for fear of crushing their
carcasses in a frantic effort to evade them.
This grim reality was her penance for yet another thwarted attempt to flee.
Upon her arrival at Triclinium, she protested her sanity vehemently, claiming she'd been committed against her will.
Initially, the staff inquired about her admittance, to which she exclaimed, "Mitchel, the CEO of the Dixon Group, is to blame!"
Their demeanor shifted to solemnity upon her declaration, convincing them of her delusion, and subjected her to a rigorous
regime, two hours of daily "re-education" via film, designed to cement her supposed madness.
Over time, Lauren learned to play along with their treatment.
Yet, she clung to the idea of escape, consumed with the desire to confront Raegan, the woman she blamed for her plight.
In her mind, had Raegan not interfered, she would have already been Mitchel's wife.
One day, the heavy iron door groaned open, and a shadowy figure entered with an effortless grace.
The room, sealed from the outside world, obscured his features, allowing Lauren only the faintest impression of his handsome
silhouette.
Could it be Mitchel? Overwhelmed, she rushed to embrace the silhouette,
only to be repelled by a sharp kick from polished .
leather shoes.
Squeak! A small but shrill scream, coupled with the fluffy touch, made her roll on the ground like getting an electric shock.
Oh! Oh no! To her horror, she realized she had crushed a mouse.
Bloodied and soiled, Lauren shrieked uncontrollably, scrambling forward in despair.
"Mitchel, I beg you, free me...
You owe me, Mitchel.
Ignoring me for her will be your downfall...
I will end Raegan, I swear it...” Her ravings painted the picture of someone truly unhinged.
"Idiot," a disdainful voice cut through the darkness.
Frozen, Lauren registered the unfamiliar, yet melodic voice.
It was not Mitchel’s.
Regaining a shred of composure, she demanded, "You're not Mitchel.
Who are you then?" "Me?" The man's voice carried a hint of amusement.
"I'm here to save you.” Lauren, puzzled, echoed, "Save me? But why?” Instead of answering, the man posed a question, “Are
you aware that you're pregnant?" "I'm...
Pregnant?" Lauren felt as if lightning had struck her.
The persistent illness she'd experienced recently now made sense.
She'd attributed it to inhaling peculiar odors, but the truth was, she was pregnant.
The child had to be Kyle’s, that bastard.
Furthermore, she had administered numerous drugs to feign illness, hoping to dupe Mitchel.
Even if she carried the pregnancy to term, the baby would be malformed.
She rejected the very notion of giving birth to this baby.
Dropping to her knees, she implored the young man before her, "Please, I need to terminate this pregnancy.
I can't bear to give birth to it." "Well..." The man scoffed dismissively.
"From this moment, you're keeping the child.
Be it a beast or a freak, it might just restore your former glory.” Lauren's tears crystallized on her cheeks.
"Is it possible? Can you truly restore my old life?" "Yes." With that, he departed, the resounding clang of the iron door sealing his
exit.
A flicker of hope ignited within Lauren.
Abandoned by her family, she was her own last resort.
Even if this lifeline was laced with venom, she was desperate to grasp it.
She harbored a fierce desire to confront Raegan, the root of her woes in her eyes.
It was all due to that bitch! "Damn that bitch to hell,” Lauren seethed.
Meanwhile, Raegan made her timely visit to the villa on Tuesday.
With Hector absent and only a maid in attendance, she learned of Bryce's presence upstairs and proceeded to knock on his
door.
Receiving no response, she persisted, even attempting to call him.
No one dared to disturb Bryce's slumber.
Roused in irritation, Bryce yanked open the door.
"What's this all about?” Disheveled with tousled blue hair, Bryce had clearly just awoken.
"You're up.
Time for your class.” Bryce rolled his eyes.
"What's gotten into you?" Flopping back onto the bed, he declared, "Teach whomever you please.
I refuse to participate.” Undeterred, Raegan entered and began playing a pre- recorded reading.
She then settled beside it with a book, immersing herself in silent reading.
The record prevented Bryce from returning to sleep.
Annoyed, he sat up and bellowed, "Can't you recite that farther away?” Ignoring him, Raegan continued, prompting Bryce to
lunge for her player.
Raegan took the player near her chest and wrapped her arms protectively over her chest, stating evenly, "Try that again, and I'll
accuse you of harassment.” Bryce halted abruptly, recognizing the tactic all too well.
Previously, he had used such an accusation to rid himself of three tutors.
He had falsely claimed to Hector that his teacher harassed him.
Rage flared within Bryce, and he exclaimed, "Who do you think is harassing you? Have you seen your own reflection? I'm far too
attractive to be labeled as a creep.
Don't try to pin this on me.
I'll turn the tables and accuse you of harassment!” Raegan regarded him with a serene gaze.
"Isn't it more sensible that you're the harasser?" Bryce found himself at a loss for words, seething with indignation.
What was the implication of that look she gave him? Surely his attractiveness wasn’t in question? He considered himself the
pinnacle of handsomeness.
Did her derisive gaze suggest otherwise? "Explain yourself.
Am I not attractive?" he demanded, his ego bruised.
His numerous admirers at school had never questioned his looks.
Raegan maintained her composure.
"Feel free to have your father scrutinize my background.
Rest assured, I'm not interested in a child." She had come prepared, knowing full well the fate of his previous tutors.
Raegan was determined to not only defend herself but to anticipate Bryce's maneuvers.
In essence, she was resolved to deny Bryce any opportunity to make her lose this job.
Bryce, infuriated, retorted, "Who are you calling a child? Do you dare to..." As Raegan turned away, her indifferent expression
seemed to echo, "Is it not you who is harassing me?" Bryce, dumbfounded, met an opponent he couldn't best for the first time.
"You!" he stuttered.
Finally, he managed to blurt out, "You're shameless." Raegan gave him a brief look.
"Care to elaborate?” In other words, she was questioning who the shameless one truly was.
Bryce felt utterly outwitted.
How could she assert such moral high ground? He buried his face in his quilt, too humiliated to weep openly, his anger sending
him into a disheveled state..
From behind, Raegan watched him, a smile tugging at her lips, and inquired playfully, "Young man, are you willing to cooperate
with me?" “Who's a young man?” Bryce surged to his feet, towering over Raegan.
But recalling her previous threat, he hastily retreated.
Raegan's smile broadened.
Perhaps there was a chance to teach Bryce after all.
She just joined the tutoring company with no achievements to her name or other options.
Taking Bryce down became the most effective strategy to achieve something.
She proposed, "My previous offer still stands.
How about a bet?” Bryce, rolling his eyes, paused before responding, "Alright, but no regrets later." "Agreed." "Fine, then it's set
for next Friday.
Await my instructions,” Bryce effectively declared a challenge.
He chose next Friday strategically, knowing Hector would be overseas, leaving him unchecked.
His plan was to give this overconfident tutor a stern lesson.
"Now, start with these assignments,” Raegan commanded, presenting a stack of work.
Bryce, staring at the assignments, felt slightly defeated.
However, the prospect of irritating her spurred him on, and he begrudgingly began the test.
Bryce quickly completed one.
Raegan reviewed it and scoffed.
"Even a baby could do better.” Bryce's confidence, once unshakable, began to crumble.
This woman! Exasperated, he grabbed the paper, determined to prove himself.
After reviewing another of Bryce's tests, Raegan remarked with a slight smile, “Not bad.” Bryce, pleased, prepared to boast.
But then, a realization hit him, souring his mood.
Why was he seeking Raegan's approval? His frustration grew.
Once their study session ended, he casually requested, "Fetch me a book on literary history from the study.” "I'm your tutor, not a
servant.
My time here is up,” Raegan refused.
Bryce, increasingly agitated, pleaded, "Just hand it over.
I'll tackle two more assignments tomorrow." "Really?" "I keep my promises.” "Alright then.” Raegan acknowledged Bryce'’s
intelligence but noted his weak foundation.
More practice was necessary.
Willing to accommodate his eagerness to learn, she ascended to the second-floor study as Bryce suggested.
Entering Bryce's proclaimed study, Raegan didn’t overthink and pushed open the door.
The room was pitch dark.
Flicking on the light, she was greeted by a startling sight.
A man slumped behind the desk, disheveled, with a woman crouching beside him.
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