Her Money, His Pride

Chapter 2: Life Must Go on

By eight the next morning, I was standing in front of twenty-two children pretending my life had not collapsed.

I wore a cream blouse, a navy skirt, and enough concealer to hide the fact that I had not slept. My engagement ring was locked inside the desk drawer in my apartment.

“Good morning, Miss Ashford,” the class said together.

Their voices steadied me.

“Good morning.”

This was why I taught.

Children did not care how many houses my family owned. They did not ask about investment portfolios or charity galas. To them, I was the person who taught multiplication, corrected spelling, and kept an emergency supply of chocolate inside the bottom drawer.

A knock interrupted the morning attendance.

The classroom door opened, and Principal Collins entered with a little girl beside her.

The child clutched the straps of a faded purple backpack. Her dark hair had been braided unevenly, with several strands already escaping.

Behind them stood a man I had never seen before.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair. Work boots.

There was a faint streak of white paint across the sleeve of his jacket.

“This is Sophie Carter,” Principal Collins explained. “She’ll be joining your class.”

The girl looked terrified.

I softened immediately. “Welcome, Sophie.”

Then I glanced at the man behind her.

He was watching me with steady gray eyes.

Not impressed.

Not nervous.

Not even curious.

For some reason, that irritated me.

“Mr. Carter needs to complete a few remaining forms,” Principal Collins continued. “Perhaps you could speak with him during lunch.”

“I’m working during lunch.”

The words came out sharper than necessary.

The man’s eyebrows lifted.

“I can return after school,” he said.

His voice was low and controlled, but I heard the challenge beneath it.

“That would be more appropriate.”

Principal Collins gave me a warning look.

Sophie glanced between us, her small fingers tightening around her backpack.

Regret stirred inside me, but before I could correct myself, the man crouched beside his daughter.

“I’ll be here at three,” he told her. “Right outside.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

He kissed her forehead and stood.

As he passed me, he stopped.

“Daniel Carter.”

He extended his hand.

I looked at it for half a second too long before accepting it.

“Victoria Ashford.”

Something unreadable crossed his face.

Recognition, perhaps.

Everyone in Blackwood knew my name.

He released my hand.

“Three o’clock, Miss Ashford.”

Then he walked away without another word.

I watched him leave, already certain that our next conversation would be unpleasant.

What I did not know was that Daniel Carter would become the first man in my life who wanted absolutely nothing from the Ashford family.

And by the time I finally believed him, I would have already done everything possible to make him hate me.