The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 76

Aveline

Colin's expression shifted from surprise to something more guarded, but as I watched him process my direct question, he seemed to make a decision. His shoulders straightened, and instead of deflecting or making a joke, he looked directly into my eyes.

"From the day I started working here," he said quietly, his voice carrying a sincerity that made my chest tighten, "I thought you were special. The way you connect with the children—it's genuine. And your dedication to education, to really understanding how kids learn... Yes, Aveline. Of course I have feelings for you."

The honesty in his voice, the steady way he held my gaze, hit me like a wave.

I'd expected him to laugh it off, maybe make some self-deprecating comment about having a crush. I hadn't expected this—this quiet intensity, this sense that he was laying something real and vulnerable at my feet.

And suddenly I regretted asking the question entirely.

Colin was treating this like an opening, like an invitation for something deeper. His eyes never left mine, and there was something almost magnetic about his focus, like he was trying to read every micro-expression on my face.

I felt trapped, pinned by the weight of his expectation.

"You care about the children just as much as I do," I said quickly, forcing a smile and trying to steer us back to safer ground. "That should be a basic requirement for anyone in this profession. I'm curious though—" I deliberately shifted topics, partly to escape the uncomfortable moment and partly because I was genuinely intrigued by what I'd witnessed, "—those teachers seemed genuinely afraid of you earlier. That's not normal for someone who just graduated and started teaching..."

Colin held up a hand, cutting me off with a rueful smile. "They're not afraid of me. They're afraid of my mother. Which is exactly why I try to stay out of her world—I just want to teach kids without all the politics and social climbing."

"Your mother?" I asked, genuinely curious now.

"Victoria Campbell," he said simply. "She's a child psychologist. Has quite a few resources and connections, so these teachers think sucking up to her through me might help their careers."

The name hit me like ice water. Victoria Campbell—I knew that name from academic journals, from conference programs I'd studied during my graduate work.

"Victoria Campbell as in... the head of Harvard Medical School's Child Psychology Department?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "The international authority on childhood trauma treatment?"

Colin nodded, looking almost embarrassed. "She runs a private practice on the Upper East Side too. Most of her clients are children of politicians, CEOs, that crowd. It's... a lot of pressure to live up to."

I stared at him with new understanding. Victoria Campbell wasn't just some well-connected doctor—she was a legend in child psychology, someone whose research I'd read extensively during my own studies. Her private practice was rumored to charge more per hour than most people made in a month.

Looking at Colin now—young, earnest, clearly trying to forge his own path away from his family's influence—I saw something that reminded me painfully of myself at that age. The desire to be valued for who you are, not what your family name represents.

But even as I felt a surge of sympathy for him, I knew with crystal clarity that whatever I felt, it wasn't romantic attraction.

Colin stepped closer, his voice dropping to something more intimate. "We never finished our conversation," he said softly. "I told you how I feel about you. I'd like to know what you think about—"

"Aveline!"

The voice that cut through Colin's words made me freeze. I turned to see Orion Blackwell striding across the playground toward us, holding something small and glittering in his hand.

"You left these at my place," he called out, his voice carrying just far enough for anyone nearby to hear. As he got closer, I could see he was holding my earrings—and he was wearing the most infuriating smirk I'd ever seen.

Colin's expression immediately darkened.

"They fell off in my bedroom last night," Orion continued cheerfully, as if he was discussing the weather instead of dropping what sounded like a nuclear bomb into our conversation.

"Don't you dare!" I snapped, feeling heat flood my face. "Don't make it sound like something it wasn't! I was drunk and you let me sleep in your guest room!"

Some of the tension left Colin's shoulders, and I caught what looked almost like relief flickering across his features.

I stalked over to Orion and snatched the earrings from his hand, glaring up at him. "I remember you being very busy," I said acidly. "What brings you to a kindergarten in the middle of a workday?"

Without missing a beat, Orion produced a small cake box from behind his back. "I brought Ryan something special. The earrings were just a coincidence—I found them when the maids were cleaning."

Colin's laugh carried no humor whatsoever. "How thoughtful of you, Mr. Blackwell. For such a busy CEO, you certainly spend a lot of time here. Three visits in one week? Someone might think you have your eye on one of our female teachers."

Orion's smile vanished instantly, replaced by something much sharper and more dangerous.

"Colin Barrett," he said, his voice taking on that cold, controlled tone I'd learned to recognize as truly threatening. "Son of Victoria Campbell—Harvard Medical School's most renowned child psychologist. I have to say, I'm curious why someone with your mother's... influence... chooses to spend his time finger-painting with five-year-olds."

The casual cruelty in his voice made my blood boil. How dare he imply that Colin's dedication was somehow suspect? How dare he suggest that someone couldn't genuinely care about children just because they came from privilege?

The protective fury that flared in my chest was immediate and fierce.

"Leave him alone," I said sharply, stepping closer to Colin in a gesture of solidarity. "Colin's dedication to these children is obvious to anyone with eyes. Just because someone chooses education over money doesn't mean they need to justify themselves to you."

Orion's smile returned, but it was all sharp edges now. "Is that what you think this is about?"

He walked slowly toward Colin, and I was surprised to see that Colin didn't back down. Instead, he stood straighter, meeting Orion's approach with calm dignity.

When Orion reached Colin, he leaned in close enough that I couldn't hear what he whispered, but I caught the deliberate way his eyes flicked toward me as he spoke. Colin's initial reaction was dismissive—a shake of his head, his mouth forming what looked like "no" or "impossible." But as Orion continued speaking, something shifted. Colin's expression moved from disbelief to confusion, then to a dawning understanding that drained the color from his face.

Whatever Orion had revealed about me, Colin was clearly struggling to process it.

"Perhaps," Orion said in his normal voice, stepping back with satisfaction, "you could give Aveline and me some privacy? Don't you have a class to teach, Mr. Barrett?"

Colin looked at me with something that might have been an apology, but there was also a new wariness in his eyes, as if he was seeing me differently now. "I'm sorry, Aveline. We'll talk later."