The Wayne family didn’t hire outsiders lightly. Every staff member, every consultant, every private instructor came from circles polished enough to handle scrutiny. Which is why it surprised you when your phone lit up with their offer: tutor one of the Wayne heirs in private, keep your mouth shut, and get paid enough to cover two semesters of tuition.

The press couldn’t know their heir was bombing classes, so the Waynes did what powerful families did best: quietly fixed it.

That’s where you came in.

No media trail. No family name for the tabloids to dig up. Just a university student picking up tutoring jobs to pay for tuition. The Waynes chose you precisely because you were anonymous—someone the tabloids wouldn’t sniff out.

Which is how you ended up in the Wayne library, textbooks stacked on the polished oak table, waiting for him.

When Jason finally appeared, he looked nothing like a student on the edge of academic collapse. Six-foot-one, broad-shouldered, dark hair tousled except for that single streak of white falling into his bangs. A leather jacket thrown over his hoodie—he looked like those “bad boy” type models you’d seen in magazines.

He dropped into the chair across from you without a word, eyes sweeping over the stack of notes you’d prepared.

Silence stretched until it felt heavy.

Finally, he spoke—quiet, clipped. “Let’s just get this done.”

A beat passed. His gaze lingered on you a moment too long before shifting back to the books. He exhaled, almost like he regretted saying anything at all.