Lahat ng Kabanata ng My Student's Father is a Secret Trillionaire: Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 50

POV: Gareth Hamilton "One iced Americano, extra shot. Enjoy." I slid the plastic cup across the polished walnut bar. Condensation was already slicking the sides, a cold sweat against the humid Manhattan air pressing through the SoHo storefront. The customer—a man in a tailored suit, eyes glued to his phone—gave a clipped nod and vanished into the midday glare of the street. The high-pitched whine of the grinder died out. Silence rushed in to fill the gap, ringing in my ears. I exhaled, a long, heavy breath that felt like it carried the weight of a dozen secrets I wasn't ready to tell. I reached for a microfiber cloth and began wiping the counter. The movement was mechanical. My hands were here, smelling of roasted beans and steam, but my mind was miles away, anchored to a conversation from the early hours of the morning.

POV: Claire Desmond The plastic latch of the bathroom stall slammed into place with a jagged, metallic click. My knees hit the floor before my brain could process the movement. The ceramic tiles were freezing, smelling of harsh industrial bleach and the stale dampness of an elementary school restroom that never truly dried. I didn't care. The sting of the floor against my skin was the only thing keeping me from dissolving into the air. “Asset seizure...” The words were a dry rasp in my throat, tasting like copper and pure, unadulterated panic. The phone in my hand felt slick, vibrating with the frantic rhythm of my pulse. My breath came in short, shallow hitches, as if the oxygen in this cramped space was being sucked out by a vacuum. I dragged myself up, sitting on the closed toilet lid, pressing a trembling palm against

POV: Claire Desmond The white hatchback swerved with a violent, controlled grace, its tires biting into the gravel as it cut off Shannon’s scooter. The suddenness of it made my heart lurch into my throat—a frantic, jagged rhythm that refused to settle. The driver’s side door swung open. Gareth Hamilton stepped out. He wasn't wearing the charcoal apron of a barista today. Instead, he wore a black polo shirt that clung to his broad frame, looking less like a cafe owner and more like a man accustomed to taking charge of a crisis. He didn't look at the other teachers or the lingering parents. His gaze was a laser, locked onto me. Shannon flicked the kickstand down with a sharp clack. "Gareth?" Shannon blurted out, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What’s with the stunt driver entrance? You nearly took out

POV: Claire Desmond The ceramic mug in my hands was losing its battle against the chill. The steam from the hot chocolate had thinned to a ghostly wisp, leaving behind a sweet, cloying scent that felt hollow. I sat rigid on the charcoal sofa, my eyes fixed on the dark, still surface of the liquid. Anything was better than meeting the gaze of the man sitting opposite me. Gareth leaned forward. His elbows rested on his knees, fingers interlaced in a bridge of quiet intensity. His eyes, usually a sanctuary of calm, were now searching mine with a focus that made me want to shrink into the very fibers of the upholstery. “Claire,” he said again. His voice was a low vibration—not a demand for information, but a request for entry. My fingers tightened around the mug. “It was just... a bad day. The usual. Life happens.”&nb

POV: Claire Desmond By noon, the delivery arrived. I tore open the plastic with genuine excitement. The foam mattress expanded the moment the ties were cut. A pattern of red roses against a dark blue background greeted me. It was garish. Pure mass-produced aesthetic. But as I spread it across the floor, it felt like I was unrolling a palace carpet. I flopped onto it. Thump. The foam wasn't particularly dense; I could feel the hardness of the floor pressing against my spine. It was a far cry from the $5,000 mattress at the estate that used to hug my body. I stared up at the stained ceiling. "This is my bed," I whispered. A wide grin spread across my face. It was the most comfortable forty-dollar bed in the entire world. *** Evening began to