Reborn with My Genius Husband

Chapter 214: I’ll Raid the Test Papers’ Lair

She looked up instinctively. The young man was walking toward her, holding a rose. Perhaps it was the dim lighting, but his features looked deep-set and defined, giving him a certain alpha air.

’Ahem, Scholar Quincy really did fit the phrase "a beast in fine clothes,"’ she thought. ’With his clothes on—a handsome, elite member of society. With them off—a pervert.’

If Mortimer Quincy knew that in such a romantic setting, his wife was calling him a pervert, he would have laughed in exasperation.

He walked over and handed her the flower, raising an eyebrow. "Happy seventh anniversary, Honey."

Holly Winslow accepted the flower, putting on a "curious" expression. "Hubby, how much stashed cash do you have left? Give me a ballpark figure."

Mortimer Quincy: "..."

’He’d originally thought his wife would say, "Happy seventh anniversary to you too, Hubby."’

He’d gotten his hopes up.

"Reporting to my dear wife, I have no private stash."

Holly Winslow didn’t believe for a second that he didn’t have a secret stash. He used to hide it in the wine box; he must have found a better hiding spot by now.

’I’ll look for it when we get back.’

Seeing her eyes darting back and forth, Mortimer Quincy knew she didn’t believe him. "..."

The two of them only ate half the cake. They boxed up the rest, and he carried it as they went to see a movie.

Who carried it?

Scholar Quincy, of course.

...

It was already midnight by the time they got home.

Mortimer Quincy watched as Holly Winslow took out the only wine box in the house. She inspected it from the outside in, and finally even shook the wine bottle.

"..."

’It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was doing.’

Looking for his secret stash.

’Fucking hell. Each wedding anniversary is "worse" than the last.’

’Fucking hell, I’m about to explode.’

He said in a low, suggestive voice, "Honey, the secret stash is in my pants. Wanna feel for it?"

Holly Winslow instantly understood and glanced between his legs. "..."

She shot back, "Forget it. That ’secret stash’ of yours is useless."

Useless?

Mortimer Quincy slowly closed in on her, finally pinning her down on the sofa. "Useless?"

"Hm?"

"Then why do you always scream ’don’t’?"

Holly Winslow: "..."

She pinched his cheek. "Get up. I have to grade Chloe Hollis’s and Yara Nolan’s papers, and I need to prep for class."

He had an early class the next day, so Mortimer Quincy got up, however reluctantly. But he couldn’t resist teasing her, "You really don’t wanna feel for it?"

Holly Winslow picked up a pillow and hit him with it. "Hurry up and get my books out."

Once he brought them out, Holly Winslow shamelessly handed him the papers to grade.

Mortimer Quincy was already used to this. He picked up a red pen and started grading, a hint of resentment in his tone. "Chinese Valentine’s Day, our anniversary... throw in Valentine’s Day, and we’ll have enough holidays for a game of cards."

One year on Chinese Valentine’s Day, he had a candlelight dinner all prepared, just waiting for Holly Winslow to get home from work. But she came back with over fifty papers to grade.

She had even tried to butter him up with a grin: "Hubby, happy paper-grading."

Holly Winslow: "..."

She chuckled sheepishly. "The more the merrier."

’The more the merrier, my ass.’

Mortimer Quincy’s eyes narrowed and his brows shot up. He warned with a roguish air, "Try adding one more. I’ll raid the papers’ nest."

Holly Winslow: "..."

She started preparing for her lessons. With the addition of Chloe Hollis, the prep work was much harder because there was a huge gap in their academic levels, and they were at different stages of their education.

A little over ten minutes later, Mortimer Quincy finished grading the papers. Holly Winslow glanced at him. "How is it?"

"A total disaster," Mortimer Quincy spat out the three words, then got up to make two cups of coffee.

Holly Winslow took Yara Nolan’s and Chloe Hollis’s English papers. Yara had scored over 100, while Chloe had scored in the 80s.

To a top student who always got full marks, it was indeed a bit of a disaster.

Looking at Chloe Hollis’s English essay, she let out a long sigh. Grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes.

’That’s where she’s losing all her points.’

...

Wyatt Winslow had called several times, but Holly Winslow was always tutoring Yara Nolan, so she had no choice but to tell him about her tutoring job.

When Wyatt Winslow learned that Holly was tutoring, his first reaction was that she was out of money. After taking care of business at the factory, he drove over for a visit.

At that time, Holly Winslow was tutoring at the Roland family’s home. After getting the call, she asked Mortimer Quincy to take over for a bit, and then went downstairs.

The broken light in the stairwell hadn’t been fixed yet. Robin Roland was afraid Holly would fall, so she accompanied her downstairs with a flashlight.

Wyatt Winslow was standing beside his car, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Hearing footsteps, he lowered his hand.

Of course, Holly Winslow saw it. A flash of sympathy crossed her eyes, but then she called out cheerfully, "Dad."

She paused for a moment and made the introductions. "This is Aunt Roland. Aunt Roland, this is my dad."

Wyatt Winslow grunted in acknowledgment. Then he looked at Robin Roland behind her. "Hello."

Robin Roland quickly replied, "Holly’s dad, hello. It’s cold down here. You should go upstairs to talk."

The three of them went upstairs.

Worried that Wyatt Winslow wouldn’t be able to see, Holly Winslow took his hand. Wyatt Winslow glanced at their joined hands, and the corners of his mouth softened.

When Mortimer Quincy saw his father-in-law, he instinctively uncrossed his legs. He opened his mouth to speak but held it back. Finally, he said respectfully, "Uncle Winslow."

"Mm," Wyatt Winslow responded, his expression neutral.

Holly Winslow went back to tutoring Yara Nolan. Wyatt Winslow sat on the stool next to Mortimer Quincy. Mortimer Quincy: "..."

He pulled out his phone, hoping to ease the tense atmosphere. The screen lit up with a photo of him and Holly Winslow. "..."

’I don’t dare meet Wyatt Winslow’s eyes.’

The tutoring session didn’t end until ten-thirty.

Robin Roland saw them downstairs, but it had started to rain, so she went back up to get an umbrella. By the time the three of them got in the car, it was already ten-forty.

The traffic was slow due to the rain. They were only halfway to the school when it turned eleven o’clock.

Mortimer Quincy glanced at his watch and felt a surge of panic. "..."

He glanced at his wife in the passenger seat, who hadn’t yet realized the problem. He pulled out his phone and texted: Honey, it’s eleven.

Her phone vibrated. Holly Winslow took it out. The three strange words on the screen were baffling at first, but when it dawned on her... "..."

’We can’t get back to campus.’

She looked at Wyatt Winslow, who was focused on driving. "..."

After hesitating for a dozen seconds or so, she said, "Ahem, Dad, maybe we should just find a hotel to stay at."

Wyatt Winslow thought she was worried about him. "No need. You two go back to your dorms."

Holly Winslow: "..."

She meekly confessed, "Dad, it’s eleven. The school gates are closed."

The car pulled over to the side of the road.

Wyatt Winslow was an adult; it didn’t take much for him to connect the dots. He shot the two of them a stern glare. "Have you two stayed out before?"

Meeting his father-in-law’s murderous gaze, Mortimer Quincy flinched. But denying it wasn’t an option, so he decided he might as well come clean.

Bracing himself, he said, "Yes."

At that exact moment, Holly Winslow answered, "No."

The two of them: "..."

Wyatt Winslow was so angry the space between his eyebrows started to throb. He couldn’t help but rub it. A passionate young man and woman, spending the night out together... it would be a lie to say nothing happened.

At this thought, his expression soured even more, especially the way he looked at Mortimer Quincy. Mortimer Quincy: "..."

He rubbed the tip of his nose. "Dad... ahem, Uncle Winslow, I’ll be responsible for Holly."

Holly Winslow nodded in support, confirming the truth of the matter.

Wyatt Winslow: "..."

He was at a complete loss.

’What a headache.’

Since it had already happened, he was silent for a moment, deciding to discuss the matter calmly. "Responsible? You’re both still kids. Do you have any source of income?"

Mortimer Quincy nodded firmly. "Uncle Winslow, don’t worry. I will give Holly a good life."

"Dad, I can earn my own money too," Holly Winslow added, trying to help.

Seeing his father-in-law’s expression darken even further, Mortimer Quincy shot a "plaintive" look at the "helpful" Holly Winslow. Holly Winslow: "..."

She added, "Dad, my husband..."

"He can support me. He’s very rich."

Mortimer Quincy: "..."

He brought a hand to his head.

’My wife isn’t trying to help. She’s trying to get "rid" of me so she can get a new husband, isn’t she?’