Reborn with My Genius Husband

Chapter 203: She’s Here, Waiting for Me Down There

Holly Winslow was truly exhausted. She was half-asleep the moment she hit the bed. Mortimer Quincy pulled her into his arms, kissed her a few times, and then closed his eyes and drifted off.

The next day, Holly was woken up by Mortimer’s advances. She met his gaze, which was filled with desire. "..."

Understanding his intent, she turned her back to him, scooted over, and tried to go back to sleep.

The man chuckled softly. A moment later, the mattress dipped beside her as he embraced her from behind and lifted her nightgown...

Holly was suddenly wide awake. "..."

’Damn you, Mortimer Quincy.’

’I want a divorce!’

...

Holly didn’t "acknowledge" Mortimer until he left. She slept in a little longer, getting up at 9:20 to wash her face and brush her teeth.

She arrived at the Hollis’s home shortly before ten.

This time, a middle-aged man opened the door for her.

’That must be Chloe Hollis’s father.’

After a polite greeting, Holly went into Chloe’s bedroom. Chloe was doing her homework, but not very diligently.

After sitting down, she said, "Did you finish the homework I assigned yesterday? Let me see it."

Chloe handed her the homework. Only a small portion was done. Holly pressed her lips together and stared at her, unable to hold back her anger in the end.

She adopted an authoritative, teacher-like tone. "If you don’t want to be tutored, you can just tell your parents."

"There’s no need to waste money on tutoring."

"This money might not seem like a lot to you, but it’s your parents’ hard-earned money."

"You might think it’s easy for them to make money, but you should go out and experience it for yourself. Money doesn’t grow on trees; it’s not that easy to earn."

"Chloe, no one is going to indulge you forever. Not even your parents."

After she finished speaking, she gathered her books. "Chloe, you’re quite smart. If you really try your best, you can definitely get into a good university."

"I’m sorry, I can’t be your tutor anymore." With that, she left.

’A tutor isn’t the same as a schoolteacher. A teacher can discipline a student sternly, but a tutor can’t. If the parents don’t understand, they’ll just blame the tutor.’

Chloe stood frozen in place, a complex mix of emotions on her face. How many years had it been since she’d heard someone say, "you’re quite smart"?

Why had she lost her desire to study? It was because of a teacher’s accusation: "Chloe, did you cheat?"

She couldn’t understand why the fruits of her hard work were seen as cheating in the eyes of others.

...

Holly apologized to Chloe’s father. He probably knew what his daughter was like, as he just sighed and asked for her understanding.

He didn’t make things difficult for her and paid her for the sessions she had already taught.

Once downstairs, Holly couldn’t help but sigh. ’Chloe is so much like I used to be.’

Suddenly, she heard a voice call out, "Teacher Winslow."

She turned to see Chloe. This was unexpected, and she was a little surprised, but she asked calmly, "What is it?"

Chloe, sounding calm yet a little dejected, said, "It’s not that I didn’t try. It’s that trying was useless. My teacher didn’t believe me, and my classmates didn’t either."

Holly paused, a sudden understanding dawning on her. To be honest, she really didn’t get why teachers would accuse students of cheating. Teenagers are sensitive and prone to self-doubt; it’s an easy way to crush a child’s motivation.

She said seriously, "I believe you."

She continued, "Why was it useless? Because other people didn’t acknowledge it?"

"You don’t work hard for others to see; you do it for yourself. No one can invalidate your efforts but you."

"Chloe, keep going. For your own sake."

"When you’ve figured things out, if you’re willing to have me as your tutor again, you can contact me anytime."

...

Back home, Holly curled up on the sofa and sighed a few times. The more she mulled it over, the more stifled she felt. Finally, she looked up flights on her phone and bought the next ticket home.

Wyatt Winslow wasn’t home, and the house was quiet. The refrigerator, which was always full whenever she came back, was now completely empty except for a single bottle of beer.

She pressed her lips together and went into Wyatt’s bedroom. The faint smell of smoke lingered in the air.

’He’s been smoking.’

She opened the window to air the room out, then cleaned Wyatt’s room. She stripped the bed, changing the sheets and duvet cover, and tossed them in the washing machine.

By the time she finished everything, it was almost four in the afternoon—time for Mortimer’s speech at Jarton High.

She changed into a white padded jacket, wrapped a yellow scarf around her neck, and bundled up tightly before heading out.

The guard at the school gate clearly remembered her. He grinned and joked, "Your boyfriend just went in."

Holly smiled sheepishly and pointed inside. "Sir, can I go in?"

"Of course." The guard enthusiastically let her in.

Students were carrying stools and heading toward the athletic field. This winter was colder than usual. Some students wore hats, while others huddled together in groups of two or three, linking arms for warmth.

Holly didn’t stand out among the high school students, especially since her scarf hid most of her face.

A cold wind blew, and she couldn’t help but stomp her feet. ’I should have worn another layer of pants.’

She followed the students to the athletic field.

At a glance, she spotted Mortimer Quincy talking to the principal, looking every bit the dapper, model student.

She snorted inwardly. ’He’s a total rogue, is what he is.’

Everyone had sat down when she realized she didn’t have a stool. She was just about to leave the field.

The Dean of Discipline looked in her direction. It was too far to see her clearly, but he bellowed into the microphone, "You, the student in the white jacket! Sit down, quickly!"

Holly: "..."

Seeing everyone looking her way, she quickly squatted down.

Mortimer happened to glance in her direction and recognized Holly instantly. After a moment of surprise, the corners of his mouth turned up. He turned to the Dean of Discipline next to him and said, "Mr. Hollis, may I get a stool for my girlfriend?"

Director Hollis: "..."

The Principal: "..."

He coughed awkwardly. "Director Hollis, have someone go get one."

Director Hollis instructed a male student from the nearest class to fetch a stool and give it to Holly.

Although the entire student body didn’t know what was happening, all eyes turned toward Holly.

Holly thanked them with a red face and pulled her scarf up a little higher.

The students in the class closest to her kept glancing over, whispering amongst themselves. "She looks like Holly Winslow, our upperclassman."

"I think she looks like her, too."

"Oh my god, this is so exciting. I think she’s so pretty."

Holly: "..."

Suddenly, the phone in her pocket vibrated. She took it out and saw a text: "Wifey, I can barely see you anymore."

That guy Mortimer was "mocking" her for how bundled up she was in her scarf.

She decided to ignore him.

Soon, the principal’s voice echoed from the stage. He gave his usual, long-winded, and cliché opening remarks. After about seven or eight minutes, he finally handed the microphone to Mortimer.

Mortimer was wearing a short, black padded jacket over an army-green hoodie. Black jeans hugged his long legs, and on his feet were a pair of white sneakers.

He held the microphone. "Hello everyone, I’m Mortimer Quincy..."

He spoke about the learning environment and teaching methods at his university, ending with a few words of encouragement.

Holly scoffed internally. ’That guy definitely just copied this from the internet.’

Just as he was about to finish, some boy in the crowd shouted, "Senior, why didn’t your girlfriend come?"

The principal’s face darkened. ’I went to all this trouble to invite him here to be a role model for you, and *this* is what you focus on?!’

Mortimer, who had just started to hand the microphone back, pulled it back. "She did come. She’s right down there, waiting for me."