Spencer slammed the door open, the sharp sound reverberating through the quiet farmhouse. His heavy sneakers thudded against the wooden floor as he stormed into his father’s office on the farm.
Arden Dalton looked up from a stack of papers, his expression calm and unbothered, as if his son’s sudden entrance were nothing out of the ordinary. A faint smile graced his lips as he leaned back in his chair, radiating an inviting warmth.
For those unaware of the Daltons’ true status, Arden seemed like an ordinary farmer, dressed in a plaid shirt, slightly faded jeans, and worn boots. Papers cluttered the desk in front of him, with tax forms and ledgers suggesting the daily demands of managing their livestock and crop farming livelihood. The faint scent of earth and wood polish permeated the room, enhancing the illusion of simplicity.
Arden’s tall, commanding stature and broad, muscular build appeared more fitting for a magazine cover than for a modest farm. His dark, wavy hair, streaked with silver, and striking amber eyes radiated a rugged charm, while his approachable smile concealed an air of quiet authority. Despite his unassuming appearance, there was an undeniable strength beneath the surface—a man far more formidable than he appeared.
“Son,” he said casually, tapping a pencil against the desk, “how was your first day of school?”
Spencer crossed his arms, a half-smirk twisting his lips. “Can I just kill her and get it over with? It would save us all the trouble.”
Arden arched an eyebrow, setting the pencil down with deliberate calm. “I didn’t raise you to kill harmless people, son.”
Spencer’s jaw tightened, but his thoughts betrayed him. ‘Harmless? She called me stupid!’ He seethed internally.
“Then assign this mission to someone else,” he retorted, his tone laced with frustration. “Because I’m not sure I can keep my temper in check long enough to avoid killing her.”
Arden chuckled, the sound warm yet edged with a tone that made Spencer grit his teeth. “Relax, son. You won’t have to do anything, and you certainly don’t need to interact with her.”
Spencer’s eye twitched as he suppressed a groan. ‘I called myself a scholar!’ thought bitterly.
“How is this a mission if I’m just... there? What am I supposed to do, take notes while she talks loudly?”
“That’s exactly what you’ll do,” his father replied, chuckling as he leaned back in his chair. “Just observe and report everything you hear and notice.”
He grumbled, throwing his hands up in disbelief. “Seriously? You’re calling this a mission? What kind of spy work is that?”
Arden’s grin widened, his amber eyes gleaming with amusement. “That kid has a loose tongue; she’ll say whatever comes to mind. She’ll share everything we need to know without you even asking her.”
Spencer let out a short laugh and shook his head. “Are you saying she’s an open book?”
“Wide open,” he confirmed. “All you need to do is sit back and listen.”
Spencer muttered under his breath, “F***! You don’t understand, old man.”
As the door slammed shut behind Spencer, the entire house seemed to exhale in relief. Heavy footsteps thudded down the hall, each echoing his irritation, and his departure left a lingering tension in its wake.
Sonia Dalton emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a blue towel. Her simple yet exquisite features, softened by concern, turned toward her husband, who remained seated at his desk. “Arden,” she began hesitantly, glancing toward the door through which Spencer had just disappeared. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to send him to the University of Uriel?”
He didn’t immediately look up at his wife; his gaze remained fixed on the papers before him. He casually adjusted the stack, as if her question lacked the weight she intended to tell.
“He needs to grow up, hon,” he stated confidently.
“I know you’ve thought this through, but… you’ve seen him, haven’t you? That temper of his? The way he behaves—like an untamed beast. No one can reason with him once he’s in one of his moods.” She sighed, shaking her head. “He needs anger supervision, not a university where he’s likely to clash with someone the moment they annoy him.”
“Then what do you want me to do with your son” he groaned.
She rubbed her temples as Arden leaned back further, his smirk transforming into a resigned expression as they recalled the incident that still made them grimace.
Spencer, at eighteen, had burned down the family tea farm in a tragic act of rebellion. Frustrated by not being assigned a mission like his older brothers and sisters, he marched up to Arden amidst the smoldering ruins, declaring with disdain that if he couldn’t have a purpose, then neither could the tea farm.
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“Your son, dear. Your son!”
“He looks more like you, honey. And don’t start with me about where he got that stubborn attitude.”
Sonia narrowed her eyes, ready to deliver a biting retort, when a sudden knock at the door interrupted them. Both turned toward the sound, their argument momentarily halted as the tension in the room shifted.
He exhaled heavily and stood, muttering, “Your son,” as he strode toward the door.
The messenger on the other side handed him an envelope, its official seal immediately catching Sonia’s attention.
————
Blair hunched over her desk, cheerfully scribbling in her notebook, the faint hum of classroom chatter providing a rhythmic backdrop. Janica and Anne approached her desk, their curiosity piqued.
“Ms. Wilson,” Janica began cautiously, leaning in slightly, “we’ve been wondering… are you related to Kennedy Wilson, or the Wilson Group?”
At the mention of the name, Blair froze for a split second, her pen halting mid-scribble. She tilted her head slightly as she looked up at them, her eyes lighting up as if something had ignited within her. A radiant smile spread across her face, and although she said nothing, the pride in her expression was unmistakable.
Spencer, lounging lazily in his seat, observed her reaction with a hint of annoyance. He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Her enthusiasm was palpable, and it didn’t take a genius to predict that the chatter would only cease when the professor entered the classroom.
“You know, the distinguished business tycoon who owns the Wilson’s Group? Hospitals, pharmaceuticals, clinics—he’s the Kennedy Wilson,” Anne exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement. Anne’s face beamed with joy, and her voice buzzed with admiration, like she’d found a celebrity in disguise. She shared an enthusiastic glance with Janica while leaning in closer to Blair, eager for her confirmation.
Blair blinked momentarily. Then a broad smile spread across her lips. “He’s my grandfather, yes.”
Anne and Janica gasped in unison, their excitement overflowing as if they had just uncovered a significant secret. Around them, the rest of the class turned their heads, captivated by the revelation. A ripple of murmurs spread across the room, filled with admiration and whispers of, “Kennedy Wilson’s granddaughter?” and “No wonder her belongings exude exclusivity.”
While most were busy gawking, one student sitting nearby raised a hand hesitantly, their curiosity outweighing their awe. “Why don’t you have a tablet or something? It would make taking notes so much easier in our class.”
The room descended into a tense silence, interrupted only by the faint sound of pens scribbling and papers shuffling made by Spencer. Some classmates exchanged curious glances, while others frowned at the audacity of Jerson’s question. Some classmates whispered amongst themselves, worried that Blair might be upset, given her family’s influence.
“Well,” she began, her voice sounding passionate, “there’s a story behind why Grandpa wouldn’t allow me to use gadgets.” She paused, glancing at the curious faces surrounding her. “He believes it’s for the safety of his only legitimate granddaughter.”
The room was utterly silent, all eyes fixed on Blair as if she were revealing the secrets of her family.
“When I was a child, a kidnapper tracked me down because of the smartphone I was carrying,” Blair said, as if she were recounting a fairytale. “By the time they found me, I was half-dead. It left me traumatized for years.” She paused briefly.
Spencer, who had been listening from his spot in the corner, suddenly stiffened. His brows furrowed, and his jaw tightened as he stared at Blair in disbelief. ‘She’s discussing the Wilson family secrets… with classmates?’ he thought, struggling to comprehend how she could reveal even a hint of vulnerability so freely.
“Though, to be honest, I don’t have any memories of what happened during the incident.”
The classroom fell into stunned silence at Blair Wilson’s revelation. Students exchanged wide-eyed glances, silently conveying their shock as if their eyes held an entire conversation. “Did you hear that?” one glance seemed to ask, while another responded, “Unbelievable.” The implications of her words rippled through the room—Kennedy Wilson, the renowned tycoon, had illegitimate children besides Scott Wilson, and his only legitimate granddaughter had been kidnapped. It was a family drama straight out of high society, now revealed casually by Blair Wilson herself.
The next day, before class began, Blair entered the room with her driver heeling behind, carrying a large bag filled with sleek, brand-new tablets—the latest model on the market. Blair flashed a proud smile as she surveyed the room, her gaze sweeping over her classmates.
Her classmates, still whispering about the previous day’s revelation, had barely settled into their seats when Blair began distributing the tablets. With a swift motion, she handed one to each classmate she had observed not using a tablet since the beginning of the week.
She handed one to Raina, her classmate since middle school, and then to her other classmates. Finally, she turned to Jerson, the one who had questioned her lack of gadgets the day before. “Here,” she said with a smile. “I did some research on my father’s computer, and honestly, tablets are incredibly convenient for college students.”
Jerson’s eyes widened, almost flabbergasted. “For real? Thanks, Ms. Wilson.”
Blair turned toward Spencer, who napped in his seat, his head tilted back slightly and his eyes closed. With a quiet, almost cautious movement, she carefully placed a sleek tablet on his desk, intending to set it there unnoticed.
But before her fingers could completely leave the tablet, Spencer’s reflexes kicked in. His hand shot out like lightning, seizing her delicate wrist with an almost crushing grip. His eyes snapped open, narrowing in an instant as he scanned her face and the tablet she was giving to him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Spencer sneered, his voice low yet filled with anger. His grip tightened slightly, as if daring her to pull away. “Who do you think you are, huh? You can waste your money however you like, but don’t bother me with your donations!”
The warning in his voice was unmistakable—he wanted nothing to do with her charity.
Blair blinked, caught off guard by Spencer’s sudden reaction. “I-I wasn’t,” she stuttered, her words stumbling out as she tried to gather herself. “This will help.. notes—”
She paused, looking down at the tablet in her hand, suddenly unsure of herself. The tension between them was palpable, and she couldn’t quite meet his gaze, feeling the weight of his anger bearing down on her.
Spencer let go of her hand in a swift motion. He locked his eyes with hers. “I don’t need a gadget,” he said, with a resolute tone, curling his lips. “I could easily top the class without this trash distraction.” He glanced at the tablet on his desk, then back at her, the smirk on his face never wavering.
Some students shifted uncomfortably in their seats, unsure whether to side with Blair’s generous gesture or Spencer’s defiant pride. A few exchanged glances, whispering among themselves, though none dared to speak out loud.