I Rejected Being The Investor's Mistress

The day after Evelyn Howard declined to play along with the office's unspoken norms, hurtful rumors began to spread like wildfire.

"Have you heard? They're saying she's been cozying up to the parents of the children. Can you imagine?"

"She looks like that kind of person, doesn't she? Young, attractive teachers at private schools often seem like they're hunting for wealthy spouses."

The whispers in the break room were hushed, but they seeped through the cracks of the door. Evelyn tightened her grip on her travel mug before letting it relax again. She lowered her gaze to the lemon peel floating in her herbal tea, and suddenly, it all seemed absurdly comical. At twenty-seven, she was still dogged by such degrading rumors.

"Evelyn, Mr. Weaver wants to see you."

A voice called from the door, bringing an abrupt halt to the gossip. Evelyn looked up and met the concerned eyes of a colleague. She smiled faintly, "Thanks, I'll be there in a moment."

Mr. Weaver's office was on the third floor of the administrative building. As Evelyn knocked and entered, Adaline Weaver was immersed in lesson plans. Nearing her forties, Adaline's gaze met Evelyn's with a mix of admiration and complexity. It was undeniable that Evelyn possessed striking beauty—fair complexion, red lips, and an effortless allure in her eyes. Even in the most conventional business attire, her presence was like a burst of springtime energy.

Her legs, dressed in sheer stockings, were straight and long, making her captivating even in silence. It was easy to see why someone might be tempted.

Adaline sighed inwardly and set her pen down. "Please, have a seat."

Evelyn remained standing, her back straight. "If this is about the rumors—"

Adaline interrupted her, her tone softer than expected. "Evelyn, there's pressure from the higher-ups. You must understand, in these situations, truth often takes a backseat. Silencing the gossip is the priority."

"So, I should resign?"

"I didn't say that." Adaline paused, then shifted the conversation. "You've been at Sheffield International for three years, right? You're diligent and responsible, patient with the students—a truly good teacher."

Evelyn held her tongue, waiting for the inevitable "but."

"But at Sheffield, being a good teacher isn't enough." Adaline's tone softened further. "You know the Morgan family's influence here in Manchester better than I do. When Owen wants something, it's hard for anyone to say no."

Adaline's gaze was conflicted. "I'm not advising you to give in. If you don't want to take that path, you'll need another strategy. Perhaps a stable relationship."

Walking out of the administrative building, Evelyn noticed a group of colleagues whispering as she passed. She lifted her chin and walked by with steady eyes. Only upon reaching the privacy of her office did she finally allow herself a long, deep breath.

A stable relationship? Easier said than done. Where could she possibly find a man willing to date her? And even if she did, how would that silence the rumors? Without proof, the gossip wouldn't stop. Unless she actually married someone!

Just as this thought crossed her mind, her phone buzzed. A chill ran down her spine as she recognized the number. She hesitated but, realizing the caller wouldn't hang up, took a deep breath and answered.

The voice on the other end was playful, like a cat teasing a mouse. "Eve, you know I'm not a man who likes to wait."

Evelyn's fingers tightened around her phone. Despite herself, she couldn't help but ask, "Would you... ever consider divorce?"

There was a brief silence, followed by a stifled, amused laugh. "Eve," Owen Morgan's voice was leisurely, tinged with authoritative condescension, "don't ask irrelevant questions. Stay with me, and I'll ensure you never want for anything. Whatever you need—besides a title—I'll provide, including covering your sister's medical expenses."

Evelyn's hand trembled. "It's tempting, but I have no interest in being a mistress."

With that, she ended the call, saying nothing more.

By five in the afternoon, the entrance of Sheffield International was bustling with cars. It was the most exclusive private school in Manchester, and all the cars picking up students were luxury models.

Evelyn stood near the guardhouse, coordinating with parents. Every glance thrown her way felt like a needle, pricking her skin. She wore a polite smile, but her hands stayed cold until a small, warm one took hold of hers.

"Miss Howard!"

Evelyn glanced down into a pair of bright eyes. Her smile softened, and she crouched to adjust the little girl's scarf.

"Clover, who's picking you up today?"

"It's me!"

Evelyn turned instinctively at the voice, momentarily taken aback. The man wore a black coat, exuding an air of aloof sophistication. Meeting his deep, inscrutable eyes, she recalled Adaline's suggestion—if a marriage of convenience involved someone this appealing, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad deal.

Startled by her own thoughts, Evelyn quickly looked away, standing up too quickly and momentarily losing her balance.

"Careful."

The man's cool scent enveloped her as he steadied her with a firm grip on her arm. Evelyn looked up into his direct gaze, close enough to notice the curve of his eyelashes and a fleeting emotion in his eyes.

"Thank you, Mr. Scott." Regaining her composure, she stepped back.

Everett Scott retracted his hand, replying with a gentle "Hmm."

Yet that single syllable made her heart race. Did he remember her?

Seven years ago, at a charity event, she had been so nervous while serving drinks that she spilled wine on him. She couldn’t recall his exact expression then, only that he hadn’t gotten angry. Instead, he had taken the towel offered by a server and calmly wiped his sleeve, sparing her a glance. Much like now.

"Uncle, let's go! It's so cold!" Clover tugged at Everett's hand, pulling him toward a sleek black Bentley where a driver had already opened the door. As he allowed her to drag him a few steps forward, he suddenly paused and turned back.

"Miss Howard."

Evelyn blinked. "Yes?"

He looked at her, his gaze deep, but he only said, "Take care."

It wasn't "see you tomorrow." It was "take care."

Evelyn watched the Bentley merge into traffic, waving back at Clover, who pressed against the window to wave at her. Just before the window closed, she saw Clover being gently pulled back inside, the little girl pouting and saying something before getting her head patted.

As she stood there, lost in thought, murmured voices of mockery reached her ears from behind.

"She doesn’t miss any chance, does she? Does she really think someone of her status could be with the Scotts?"

"Exactly, the Scott family is top-tier, and Mr. Scott is someone even our school's major investor, Mr. Morgan, has to flatter. She's dreaming to think she has a chance."

Evelyn looked down. Yes, they were right. She didn’t belong in that world.

By eight in the evening, the school grounds had finally quieted down. After organizing the last lesson plan, Evelyn turned off the lights in her office. The March night wind was biting as she stood at the school gate, checking a ride-hailing app on her phone.

Twenty-eight people in line.

She sighed. Just then, a car horn sounded behind her.

Evelyn stepped aside, but the car remained stationary. Bewildered, she looked up. The black Bentley sat there, its passenger window slowly lowering. The streetlight cast a soft glow on the man's profile. He looked directly at her, his gaze intense and meaningful.

She hesitated. "Mr. Scott?"

Everett stepped out of the car. He approached her, looking down from his height. "Miss Howard. I've been waiting for you."

Surprised, she knitted her brows. "Waiting for me?"

The man stood before her, against the backdrop of dim streetlights, his features sharply defined by the interplay of light and shadow. His tone was calm, as if he were casually commenting on the weather.

"Though this may seem forward, I'd like to ask—would you consider marrying me?"