The Husband I Loved for Eight Years Never Loved Me-Chapter 105: I Will Agree to Any Compensation You Want
Chapter 105: I’ll Agree to Any Compensation You Want
Outside the classroom.
The principal was effusive in his praise for Rachel Royce’s lecture.
"Miss Evelynn, your teaching style is quite similar to Professor Jennings’s."
Rachel Royce replied with a smile, "Professor Jennings is my role model."
The principal nodded.
After a few more words,
the principal and the others left.
The entire time, Tristan Sterling hadn’t said a single word to Rachel Royce, nor had she looked at him.
When the man finally left,
Rachel Royce finally let out a sigh of relief.
However, that one class was all it took for Rachel Royce to go viral on the school’s online forum.
A student had posted a photo of Rachel Royce’s side profile while she was teaching. In it, she stood at the lectern, exuding an intellectual, elegant aura. Her perfect curves, exquisite features, and the focused expression on her face as she looked down created the very image of a perfect, brilliant goddess.
Many began to speculate: what exactly was the relationship between Miss Evelynn and Professor Jennings?
They seemed like such a good match, both in looks and disposition!
Of course, Rachel Royce was unaware of the discussions about her on the school forum.
After her lecture ended, she stayed to answer some students’ questions.
Rachel Royce returned to Julian Jennings’s office and handed the books and materials to Liam Wallace.
"Thank you for your hard work, Miss Evelynn."
Rachel Royce smiled. "It was no trouble at all."
When she left the office and walked to the elevators, she saw the man standing there, waiting.
Rachel Royce froze in her tracks.
Tristan Sterling turned his head to the side and looked at her.
Their eyes met.
Without any hesitation, Rachel Royce turned and walked back toward the office.
She had returned to Julian Jennings’s office.
Liam Wallace saw her and asked, "Miss Evelynn, did you forget something?"
Rachel Royce sat down on a stool. "I’ll leave in a little while."
Liam Wallace was puzzled but didn’t press the issue. As it happened, he had some academic questions he wanted to ask her, and Rachel Royce patiently answered them.
Being so close to Rachel Royce, Liam Wallace couldn’t stop his ears from turning red.
Rachel Royce noticed but didn’t say anything.
Liam Wallace suddenly said, "Oh, right, a student made a post about you on the school forum, Miss Evelynn. You’re getting rave reviews! The post is trending."
Rachel Royce was confused.
Liam Wallace handed her his phone.
Rachel Royce scrolled through the post. Deep down, she was happy to have the students’ approval, but most of the discussion was about her looks or gossiping about whether she and Julian Jennings were a couple. She could only give a faint, helpless smile.
After waiting for about fifteen minutes,
Rachel Royce finally left the office. The man was gone.
It was only four-thirty when she left the university, so it was still early.
She drove straight to the Fitzwilliam estate.
The weather was hot now.
The women of the Fitzwilliam Family had all gone to Crestwood Resort.
The estate felt a little deserted.
Master Fitzwilliam hadn’t gone this year. He stayed home, enjoying the peace and quiet by himself.
Stepping into the courtyard, the temperature was noticeably cooler than outside.
Mr. Fitzwilliam was in his study, reading.
Rachel Royce went to the study.
"Mr. Fitzwilliam."
Mr. Fitzwilliam, reclining in his rocking chair, looked at Rachel Royce. "You’re here."
Rachel Royce went over and exchanged a few pleasantries with Mr. Fitzwilliam, who learned that she had been teaching at the university that day.
Rachel Royce played a game of chess with Mr. Fitzwilliam.
Around the time dinner was being prepared,
the butler asked Rachel Royce what she would like to eat.
Rachel Royce said suddenly, "In that case, let me make dinner!"
She had come empty-handed today, and since the visit was spontaneous, she hadn’t known what to bring. Making dinner would be a perfect gesture.
Mr. Fitzwilliam didn’t refuse. "Alright. It’s just the two of us today anyway. I’ll get to sample your cooking."
Rachel Royce agreed, "Okay."
Rachel Royce went to the kitchen, asked the butler if Mr. Fitzwilliam had any dietary restrictions, and then began to prepare the meal.
Mr. Fitzwilliam sat on the living room sofa, watching television.
Just then, the butler came over and announced, "Master, Young Master Tristan is here."
Mr. Fitzwilliam frowned, having a good idea why he had come. "Let him in."
Soon, Tristan Sterling entered the living room. Seeing Mr. Fitzwilliam, he walked over and said, "Grandfather Fitzwilliam."
Mr. Fitzwilliam glanced at him, his expression grim. "What is it?"
Tristan Sterling stood to the side, his attitude humble and respectful. "My mother’s actions were indeed too impulsive. I’ve come to apologize to you on her behalf, Grandfather Fitzwilliam."
Sylvia Shannon had called him earlier that day to tell him what happened. Of course, Sylvia Shannon didn’t think she was actually in the wrong. She even felt that Mr. Fitzwilliam had gone too far, wondering aloud what Evelynn’s relationship with him could possibly be for him to be so protective.
Naturally, she only dared to complain like this in front of her son; she wouldn’t dare say such things to Madam Sterling or Madam Fitzwilliam.
Mr. Fitzwilliam snorted. "Whose fault is it really? Your mother’s, or yours?"
Tristan Sterling didn’t try to argue. "It was indeed my fault."
Mr. Fitzwilliam saw his earnest demeanor, but he knew this brat. His attitude was always superficially impeccable, but only he himself knew how much sincerity was truly behind it.
Mr. Fitzwilliam said, "I’m not the one you should be apologizing to."
By the time Rachel Royce had finished preparing dinner and came into the living room, she was startled to see Tristan Sterling. ’How is he here again?’
She was starting to suspect the bastard was stalking her.
Tristan Sterling turned his head and looked at her.
She watched as he rose to his feet and walked toward her.
Rachel Royce stood her ground, watching the man as he approached. His imposing presence made her instinctively want to take a step back, but she quickly composed herself. ’This is the Fitzwilliam estate, and Mr. Fitzwilliam is still here.’
Tristan Sterling stopped about a step away from Rachel Royce.
His tall frame was backlit, making him seem incredibly imposing.
Rachel Royce clenched her fists and looked up at the man, only to hear him say, "Miss Evelynn, I apologize for your show being suspended at the television station. I’ll agree to any compensation you want."
Rachel Royce blinked, the realization dawning on her. ’So he came to see Mr. Fitzwilliam today because Sylvia Shannon got my show suspended.’
But she knew that beneath this man’s sincere apology was nothing but hypocrisy.
She coolly averted her gaze. "I don’t need your apology, and I don’t need your compensation."
"Then what do you need, Miss Evelynn?"
Rachel Royce looked at him again. "I don’t need any apology from you, President Sterling. I just need you to stay far away from me."
Tristan Sterling remained silent, his face impassive.
The atmosphere grew tense.
"That’s enough."
Mr. Fitzwilliam’s voice cut in.
Rachel Royce and Tristan Sterling both looked toward Mr. Fitzwilliam.
Rachel Royce took a step forward. "Mr. Fitzwilliam, dinner is ready. Let’s eat."
Mr. Fitzwilliam nodded, then looked at Tristan Sterling and said, "We didn’t prepare dinner for you. You should head back."
Tristan Sterling gave a slight nod and said nothing.
Rachel Royce accompanied Mr. Fitzwilliam to the dining room.
During the meal,
Mr. Fitzwilliam asked, "It seems it’s more than just this incident that’s bothering you."
Rachel Royce said, "I’d rather not talk about him. I don’t want to ruin my appetite."
Mr. Fitzwilliam chuckled. "Fine, we won’t talk about him. But if that brat dares to do anything to you, you come tell me directly."
Rachel Royce smiled. "Okay."
Mr. Fitzwilliam repeatedly praised Rachel Royce’s cooking as he ate.
After dinner,
Rachel Royce stayed and kept Mr. Fitzwilliam company for a while longer.
By the time she left the Fitzwilliam estate, it was already seven in the evening, and the sky was growing dark.
She arrived at the parking lot in the courtyard.
There, she saw the man leaning against a car door, smoking. One leg was slightly bent, the night wind tousled his short hair, and his profile was sharply defined.
The last rays of the setting sun fell upon him, casting him in an aura of nonchalant, languid, devil-may-care charm.
