The Single Dad And His Daughter's Tutor

The Library Date

Amara's first official day as Lily Blackwood's tutor started at 9 AM sharp.

She wore the same white dress — it was the only good one she had — but she had washed it twice. Mrs. Chen opened the door with a big smile and a whisper, "He is working from home today. Good luck, dear."

The penthouse was quiet. Too quiet.

"Where is Lily?" Amara asked.

"In the library. She has not left her room since yesterday. She keeps looking at the door, waiting for you."

Amara's heart melted. She walked down the long hallway to the library — a huge room with floor-to-ceiling books, a fireplace that was never used, and one small pink tent in the corner. That tent was the only colorful thing in the whole penthouse.

Inside the tent, Lily sat. She was wearing the same pink dress, hugging a stuffed rabbit with one missing ear. When she saw Amara, her eyes lit up. She crawled out of the tent and ran — actually ran — to Amara and hugged her legs.

Amara gasped. Yesterday, Lily only held her hand. Today, she hugged.

Amara knelt down and hugged her back, tight and warm. "Good morning, my sweet girl. I told you I would come back."

Lily did not speak, but she nodded against Amara's chest. She smelled like strawberries and baby shampoo.

From the doorway, someone watched.

Andrian Blackwood stood in a black t-shirt and sweatpants — the first time Amara had seen him not in a suit. His hair was messy. He had not slept. He was holding a black coffee, and he was staring at the scene on the floor: his daughter, who had not let anyone hug her in two years, clinging to a stranger like she was her mother.

Something sharp twisted in his chest. He should be happy. This was what he paid for. But he felt... jealous.

Jealous that his daughter smiled for someone else first.

"Amara," his voice was cold, cutting through the moment. "Library rules."

Amara stood up quickly, Lily still holding her dress. "Yes, sir."

He walked in. He looked taller without a suit. More dangerous.

"Lily has reading delay. The doctors said she should read 10 pages a day. She refuses. Make her read. Also — " he looked at Amara's white dress, then at Lily clinging to her, " — don't get too attached. Tutors leave. She gets hurt every time someone leaves."

Amara felt his words like a slap, but she understood. This was not cruelty. This was fear. He was scared his daughter would love Amara and then Amara would leave like everyone else. Like Elena.

"I won't leave her, Mr. Blackwood," she said softly. "Not unless you fire me."

Andrian's jaw tightened. He wanted to say something, but her phone rang.

"Amara! You made it!"

Amara jumped. It was a video call. On her cracked phone screen was JAKE — 26, her best friend from Queens, with his big smile and messy hair. He worked at the bookstore with her.

"Jake! I'm at work, I can't—"

"Relax! I just wanted to see if the billionaire's penthouse is real! Is it? Is his daughter cute? Do you miss me already?"

Amara laughed, a real, bright laugh that filled the cold library for the first time in years. "Jake, stop!"

Lily giggled. She actually giggled.

Andrian did not laugh.

He stared at the phone screen. At the young man who made Amara laugh like that. Who called her so casually. Who knew her from before.

His hand tightened around his coffee cup. Rule #3: This is professional only. He was her boss. Nothing more. So why did his blood boil when she laughed at another man's joke?

"Who is that?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

Amara quickly ended the call. "Just... just my friend from the bookstore, sir. He helped me get the interview."

"Friends should not call during work hours," Andrian said coldly. "This is a $5,000 a week job, not a playground. If you want to flirt, do it outside my house."

Amara's eyes filled with tears. "I wasn't flirting. He's just my friend."

Lily saw Amara's tears. She frowned, then turned and looked at her father with angry little eyes — the first time she had ever been angry at him.

She walked to her tiny bookshelf, grabbed a picture book — 'The Princess and the Star' — and dragged it to Amara.

She opened it and sat in Amara's lap.

Andrian watched his daughter choose Amara over him. Watched Amara hold his daughter, whispering the story, her voice still shaking from his harsh words.

He felt like a monster.

"Amara," he said after a minute, his voice softer. "...I'm sorry."

Amara looked up, shocked. The billionaire CEO who never apologized had just apologized.

Lily looked up at her father, then at Amara, then did something that stopped both their hearts.

She took Amara's hand and took her father's hand and placed them together on the book.

Three hands. On one storybook.

For a second, in that cold library, it felt like a family.

Andrian stared at his hand under Lily's tiny hand, on top of Amara's warm hand.

He should pull away. Rule #3 — professional only. He was the CEO. She was the tutor. This was wrong.

But Amara's hand was soft. And warm. And his daughter was looking at him with big, hopeful eyes for the first time in months.

He did not pull away for five whole seconds. Then he did, quickly, like he had been burned.

He stood up, his face cold again. "I have a meeting," he said roughly, not looking at either of them. He walked out of the library, his heart beating so loud he was sure they could hear it.

As soon as he left, Amara let out a breath she did not know she was holding.

Lily looked up at her and whispered, "Papa is sad."

It was the second time Lily had spoken to her. Amara felt tears in her eyes again.

"I know, baby. Your papa misses your mama a lot. Just like you do."

Lily nodded and hugged her rabbit tighter. "Mama went to the stars."

Amara hugged her. "Yes. But she is still watching you. And she would be so proud of how brave you are."

In his office, Andrian stood by the glass window, looking at the city but seeing nothing. He was listening to the library. To Amara's soft voice reading 'The Princess and the Star' and Lily's small giggles.

No tutor had ever made Lily giggle.

He opened his laptop to work, but his eyes kept going to the security camera feed — Library Cam. He saw Amara lying on the floor now, Lily on her stomach, both drawing stars on a white paper. Amara's white dress was getting dirty with crayons and she did not even care.

He felt that jealous feeling again, but this time it was different. He was not jealous of Jake. He was jealous that they looked so happy without him.

Mrs. Chen came in with his black coffee. She saw what he was watching and smiled knowingly.

"Mr. Blackwood, that girl is good for this house," she said quietly.

Andrian turned off the screen quickly. "She is just doing her job, Mrs. Chen."

"Job?" Mrs. Chen chuckled. "Sir, with respect, when was the last time Lily let someone lie on the floor with her? That girl sat on the cold library floor in her only good dress just so Lily could be comfortable. The Harvard tutor would never do that."

Andrian had no answer.

At 6 PM, Amara's work day ended. She packed her old bag. Lily did not want her to go. She held onto Amara's dress.

"Amara, stay," Lily whispered.

Amara knelt down. "I have to go home now, sweetie, but I will be back tomorrow at 9 AM. I promise. Pinky promise."

She held out her pinky. Lily hooked her tiny pinky with hers.

Andrian watched from the hallway. He saw the pinky promise. He saw his daughter's face — not empty anymore, but full of something. Hope.

As Amara walked to the elevator, Andrian called out, "Amara."

She turned. "Yes, Mr. Blackwood?"

He walked to her, so close she could smell his expensive cologne. He looked down at her white dress now stained with blue crayon.

"Your dress," he said, his voice low.

Amara looked down, embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir, Lily was drawing and—"

"I will have Mrs. Chen buy you new ones," he cut her off. "You cannot come to work in rags. What will people think? The tutor of Blackwood is poor?"

His words were harsh, but his tone was... concerned. He reached out like he wanted to wipe a crayon mark off her shoulder, but stopped himself. His hand froze in the air.

Amara looked into his dark tired eyes and said softly, "I am poor, Mr. Blackwood. But I am not a rag."

Silence. The elevator dinged.

Andrian stepped back. "6 AM tomorrow. Not 9. I have an early meeting. Be here at 6."

Amara's eyes widened. "6 AM? But sir, I live in Queens, the train—"

"Then wake up earlier. You want $5,000 a week or not?"

He turned and walked away, leaving Amara standing there, angry and confused.

Inside the elevator, as the doors closed, she whispered to herself, "Cold, rude billionaire!"

But in the penthouse, Andrian stood by the window, watching her exit the building 96 floors below — a tiny white dot in the dark street — and he whispered to himself, "Why can't I stop thinking about her?"