COPYRIGHT © 2017 Miu
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the Author.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All pictures and multimedia used are not the author’s work and doesn’t claim any legal rights.
MATURE CONTENT and VULGAR words not suited for young readers below eighteen (18) years old.
Everything looks good.
I rechecked my appearance once more. A simple white long sleeve button shirt and black pencil cut skirt paired with a deadly three inches stilettoes.
Since I was portraying to be a teacher, I have to look the part.
I bathe for two hours, making sure every part of me was scrubbed and cleaned that even my insides smell like milk.
After that, I was in front of my walk-in closet’s full-length mirror ever since. Rechecking my appearance time and time again.
One week had passed since I read Lance’s diary. It took a while to processed the papers and other documents and formulated excuses after excuses to my family.
The school agreed to my dema––er . . . ‘request’ that I would only teach one class per day from Monday to Wednesday because that was my only free time. Not because that is Lance’s schedule . . .
It was only when the clock stroke six in the morning that I grabbed my Salvatore Ferragamo classic top handle bag and stormed towards my bulletproof black Mercedes, where Violet was already waiting inside the driver seat.
I was living in the mansion I was in when I was still studying in Artem. In one of New Haven’s private subdivision. It took an hour by a car going to Artem, but I did not mind since I love the place. It was quiet, peaceful, safe, and private.
“Quiet down, everyone. I’ll introduce your new beginner’s violin teacher. Meet Miss Emery Jansen.”
“She’s soooo beautiful!”
“That’s Emery Jansen?”
“Quiet down. Quiet down.” Professor Ingrid leveled her eyeglasses before she threw me a glance. She looked all kind and polite, opposite from her usual strict self.
I knew she was just buttering up to me. She was always like that ever since I was still a student here.
“These kids are a handful, but they have talents. If you need help with anything, approach me, alright?”
I nodded and gave her a professional smile, dismissing her with my silence. Professor Ingrid was a bit hesitant to leave until I gave her the side-eye, and she scurried out of the room.
Though she was like that, wanted to rub on the good side of influential people, she was still one of the best teachers when it came to music. Thus, Artem could not exactly dismiss her.
“Hello, everyone. My name is Emery Jansen. I do not like to waste time, so when I call your name, kindly raise your hand for me to know you,” I said straight to the point.
I was used to crowds and be the center of attention, so giving lectures to a bunch of kids four years younger than me was a piece of cake –– until I saw a name on the class lists that I wanted to murder ever since four years ago.
Right, I forgot she was also studying here.
What were the odds that from all the classes, she would be on mine?
I should have said that I did not want any class with a ‘Jennifer’ in it.
I roamed my gaze and found the object of my hatred.
She had gotten beautiful by the years. A full-grown lady that was about to turn into a woman. Her long black silky hair was cut in style and colored in white blonde.
A pity, she looks more beautiful with black hair.
She still had this demure and delicate feel to her.
She was staring at me with a smile on her face, showing her adorable dimples on both sides of her cheeks. Her dark brown puppy eyes were so soft and innocent.
If I did not know any better, I would also be fooled by the girl’s acting. Unfortunately for her, I ate girls like her every day for breakfast . . . well . . . not literally . . . but you get my point.
I’ll definitely snatch Lance for myself!
Or I will not eat snacks for the rest of my life!
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