After a long day at school, Elena returned home. The door was locked, a small note of absence in the silence. "Ugh… Mom still hasn't come back," she muttered, her exhaustion mingling with worry.
She retrieved the spare key from the neighbor and opened the door. Without eating anything, she quickly changed into her coat and shoes and headed toward the restaurant where her mother worked. Every step weighed heavy on her chest, every breath tinged with anxiety. She couldn't bear to see her mother in this state—she only wished to bring her a moment of peace, even if it meant ignoring her own fatigue.
At the restaurant, Elena spotted her mother, Izabel, still busy with work. "Why are you here again?" Izabel asked, a hint of anger in her voice.
"Mom… I don't like seeing you work here while I relax at home," Elena said, her tone polite yet laced with emotion.
Izabel drew a deep breath, trying to control her frustration. "Elena, people from all walks of life come here—some good, some not. If someone looks at you the wrong way, what will happen to me? Can you even imagine?"
"Mom… nothing will happen. I can manage. I'll find a job somewhere else. Please, just leave this one," Elena pleaded softly.
Izabel tried to let it go, "Alright… go on, anyway, I was about to come home soon."
Elena simply watched her mother, knowing she could never truly win, yet feeling compelled to try.
---
Meanwhile, in front of a luxurious bungalow, two cars stopped ahead, with two more behind, guarding every angle. As Ethan Walker stepped out, his bodyguards flanked him instantly, opening the car doors.
Ethan's steps were brisk, his expression a mix of fury and focus. One hand clenched in a pocket, the other in a fist. Objects on the dressing table rattled and fell as his anger radiated through the room. His temples were flushed, and despite the freezing cold, beads of sweat traced down his face.
"Ethan Walker… no one has ever dared meet my gaze… and she… she dares," he whispered to himself, a mix of anger and disbelief simmering inside him.
A deep exhale, and he forced himself to regain control over his emotions.
At that moment, his mother, Catherine, heard the commotion. "Ethan, sweetheart, are you okay? Open the door, please!" she called repeatedly, panic creeping into her voice. Ethan adjusted his composure and opened the door.
"What happened? Are you hurt?" she asked, eyes scanning the disarray.
"No, Mom… I'm fine. I just tripped. Tell the helper to clean my room properly," Ethan said, retreating toward the shower.
Standing under the water, Ethan felt the sting of helplessness. His uniform soaked, a small cut on his hand bleeding from hitting the dressing table. Memories of his mother, Sophia, flooded him, and he finally let himself cry, tears mingling with the water.
Ethan's childhood had been complicated—his parents' divorce had left a permanent mark. He had witnessed fights he couldn't understand, hiding under tables to escape, feeling the painful absence of maternal warmth. William, his father, had tried his best, but nothing could fill the void left by a mother.
Fate had eventually given Ethan a mother again—yet she was a stepmother.
The next day
When Ethan Walker stepped into the school compound, flanked by two gleaming luxury cars and his bodyguards in tight formation, the entire scene seemed to freeze for a moment. Students' eyes went wide, and whispers and exclamations filled the air.
"What is happening here?" one student asked in disbelief.
"That's Ethan Walker… and those are his bodyguards?" another shouted.
"Look at all this luxury… must be a fortune behind it," a third murmured, barely able to contain their excitement.
But Elena, sitting at her desk, watched everything with a scowl. Her heart was filled with irritation. Every luxury car, every shining bodyguard, and Ethan's cool, composed attitude—nothing impressed her.
"So this is it?" she thought to herself. "All this drama… and everyone else finds it so exciting?"
To her, Ethan's world of wealth, temper, and attention was completely unnecessary and overhyped. She remained indifferent, opening her notebook and doodling, ignoring the shocked expressions and gossip swirling around her.
Still, she couldn't help but notice just how powerful and composed he was. In her mind, she decided: "No matter how flashy or infuriating he is, I will never be impressed. This is just a game, and I'm not playing by his rules."
The classroom had returned to its usual rhythm, but Elena's pulse was racing. Yesterday's prank—gluing his seat—still sent a secret thrill through her mind. She was a little nervous, a little excited, and completely ready to see his reaction.
Then Ethan entered the classroom, walking with effortless luxury, his bodyguards flanking him like shadows. The entire room seemed to pause in his presence. Students' eyes went wide again, and whispers turned into a low roar of fascination.
As Ethan approached his seat, he glanced at it casually, then tilted his head with a small, knowing smirk.
"Hmm… so this masterpiece on my seat was your idea?" His voice carried a playful taunt, full of confidence.
Elena's heart skipped a beat, and she froze for a moment. Ethan's gaze lingered on her briefly, and then, with deliberate care, he sat down.
"Nice try. But if you think this little glue prank will stop me… think again. You put effort into it, sure—but I can handle it. Next time, try a smarter plan."
A few quiet laughs rippled through the classroom. Elena felt her cheeks heat up, caught somewhere between irritation, embarrassment, and a strange fascination.
She took a deep breath and resolved: "Alright, he's cool and witty… but I'm never impressed. This is just a game, and I'm not about to lose."
End of chapter