Four Of A Kind

Chapter 92: [2.6-7] The Problem Child Doesn’t Bend, and I’m a Problem

I collapsed onto the bed in my guest suite, loosening my tie with a long exhale. My whole body felt like I’d just gone twelve rounds with a heavyweight champion, even though all I’d done was eat dinner and answer questions.

That was Camille Valentine? The woman made sharks look cuddly.

For two hours, I’d sat at that table playing verbal chess with a woman who could probably buy the country of Liechtenstein with her quarterly bonus. Every question she asked had three meanings. Every answer I gave was scrutinized like evidence at a murder trial. And when she smiled? That wasn’t happiness. That was a predator showing teeth.

Now I understood where the Valentine sisters got their… unique personalities from. Vivienne’s razor-sharp perfectionism. Cassidy’s explosive defensiveness. Harlow’s manic need to please. And Sabrina’s cryptic, unnerving watchfulness.

Speaking of Sabrina.

I’d been preparing ramen for her in the middle of the night, and somehow her mother knew about it? The Valentine household had either the world’s most detailed staff reporting system or actual surveillance cameras. Neither option made me feel great about my midnight wanderings.

I kicked off my shoes and stared at the ceiling. Ten thousand dollars a month. Was it worth it? My brain immediately calculated: rent, utilities, food, train tickets, Iris’s school supplies, potential college savings…

Yes. It was worth it. Even if Camille Valentine had literally asked me if I’d be willing to donate a kidney during the dessert course.

Which, thankfully, she hadn’t. Yet.

My phone buzzed. Iris had sent seventeen consecutive texts, escalating from casual questions about my day to all-caps panic about whether I’d been murdered by billionaires. I sent her a quick message:

Still alive. Dinner with the mother. Will call tomorrow.

I added a random emoji to satisfy her obsession with them.

She responded instantly: WAIT THE MOTHER EXISTS? I THOUGHT SHE WAS A MYTH LIKE BIGFOOT OR BALANCED SCHOOL BUDGETS

I snorted. Very real. Very scary. Going to sleep now. Love you.

Love you too idiot. Don’t get serial killed by rich people.

As I set my phone down, a knock sounded at my door. Three sharp raps. Too aggressive for Mrs. Tanaka. Too rhythmic for Harlow. Too loud for Sabrina.

I opened the door to find Cassidy Valentine standing in my doorway.

In tiny shorts.

And a camisole that barely covered her chest.

Her wine-red hair hung loose around her shoulders instead of in its usual spiky, deliberately messy style. Her purple eyes locked onto mine with their typical confrontational glare, though something else flickered behind them. Something I couldn’t quite read.

“Scholarship Boy.”

“Valentine.”

“You gonna let me in or what?”

Before I could answer, she brushed past me and entered anyway, her bare shoulder grazing my arm as she passed. The contact sent an electric jolt through me that I immediately tried to ignore. She smelled like expensive shampoo and that particular Cassidy scent I’d started recognizing—something like cinnamon and trouble.

She flopped down on my bed. My bed. The bed I was supposed to sleep in. Alone. Without seventeen-year-old heiresses in pajamas sitting on it.

I closed the door because leaving it open somehow seemed worse.

“So…” I stayed by the door. “Did you need something at—” I checked my watch, “—11:37 PM?”

Cassidy glared at me from the bed. “What the hell was that at dinner?”

“You’ll need to be more specific. A lot happened at dinner.”

“You know exactly what I mean.” She crossed her legs, which did unfortunate things to the hemline of her shorts. I kept my eyes locked firmly on her face. “The way you talked to my mother. Nobody talks to her like that.”

I shrugged. “She asked questions. I answered them.”

“You told her you’d be inefficient for your sister.”

“I would.”

“You don’t understand. My mother destroys people who disagree with her.”

“I’m not afraid of your mother.”

Cassidy laughed. Actually laughed. A genuine sound that transformed her face completely.

“You should be. She’s terrifying.”

“So are you. So is Vivienne. So is Sabrina in her own quiet way. Harlow might be the only one of you who isn’t actively scary, and even she could probably ruin someone’s life with a well-placed social media post.”

Cassidy tilted her head. “You think I’m terrifying?”

“You threatened to destroy my life the first time we met.”

“That was before I knew you.”

“You shoved me into a shower.”

“That was…” Her cheeks colored slightly. “A tactical decision.”

“You tricked me into leaving the house by pretending to be your sister.”

“You saw through that!”

“Eventually.”

She fell silent, studying me with those purple eyes. I leaned against the wall, careful to keep a responsible distance between us. This entire situation screamed danger. Teenage heiress. Male employee. Bedroom. Night. Short shorts. Absolutely nothing good could come from this.

“You’re different,” she finally said.

“Than?”

“Than everyone. The other tutors. The guys at school. The people who work for my mother.” She picked at a thread on the comforter. “You don’t… bend.”

“Bend?”

“Yeah. Like… when my mother says jump, most people ask how high on the way up. When I throw a tantrum, people either run away or try to placate me. When Vivienne makes demands, people scramble to fulfill them. But you just… stand there. Like nothing we do actually changes you.”

I considered this. “I’ve worked service jobs since I was fourteen. Rich people yelling doesn’t scare me anymore.”

Her eyes narrowed. “We don’t scare you?”

“I didn’t say that. Your family is objectively terrifying. But I’ve got other problems that scare me more.”

“Like what?”

I hesitated. This conversation was wandering into dangerous territory. But something about the quiet of the room, the late hour, and the strange vulnerability hiding beneath Cassidy’s usual aggression made me answer honestly.

“Like not being able to pay rent. Like Iris not getting into a good college. Like waking up at forty and realizing I spent my entire youth working so hard I forgot to actually live.”

Cassidy stared at me. “That’s… really depressing.”

“Welcome to real life, Valentine.”

“I have real life.”

“You have a different real life.”

She frowned, pulling her knees up to her chest. The movement made her camisole shift in ways that required me to find the ceiling very interesting.

“Is that why you’re helping me? Because you need the money?”

I met her eyes. “At first, yeah. Ten thousand dollars a month is life-changing.”

“And now?”

I thought about her face when she got that 8/10 on the quiz. The way her entire being had lit up from within. Like someone who’d been told she was broken her whole life suddenly discovered she might not be.

“Now I think you’re smarter than everyone gives you credit for, including yourself. And I think proving that might be worth something beyond the paycheck.”

Cassidy looked away. “That’s stupid.”

“Probably.”

“You barely know me.”

“I know enough.”

She scoffed, but her cheeks had gone pink. “Whatever. You’re just saying that because you work for us.”

“Cassidy, in the weeks I’ve known you, you’ve threatened me, fought me, challenged me, and soaked me with cold water. I’m pretty sure the employee handbook doesn’t recommend any of that.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “I am kind of a nightmare, huh?”

“The worst.”

“And yet you’re still here.”

“The money’s good.”

“Just the money?”

Our eyes met, and something shifted in the air between us. Something dangerous. Something that made my pulse speed up and my brain sound alarm bells.

I cleared my throat. “It’s late. You should probably go back to your room.”

Cassidy’s face hardened instantly. The vulnerability vanished, replaced by her usual scowl.

“Right. Wouldn’t want Vivienne to catch us and report to Mother that you’re being inappropriate with the merchandise.”

“That’s not—”

“Save it.” She stood up. “I’ll see you tomorrow for tutoring. Don’t be late, Scholarship Boy.”

She walked to the door, but paused with her hand on the knob. Without turning around, she said, “For what it’s worth, thanks for not treating me like I’m stupid today. With my mother.”

Before I could respond, she slipped out, closing the door behind her.

I sat down heavily on the bed, which still held the faint warmth from where she’d been sitting.

What just happened?

Cassidy Valentine had come to my room in pajamas, asked surprisingly personal questions, showed actual human vulnerability, and then left with something that sounded suspiciously like gratitude.

Either the world was ending or I was missing something important.

I fell back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling. The Valentine family was a minefield of money, power, and complicated emotions. And somehow, in less than a month, I’d gone from safely on the periphery to standing directly in the middle of it all.

My phone buzzed again. Harlow this time:

ASSISTANT-KUN! Did u survive dinner?? Mother can be scary but she totally likes u!!! She never asks ppl about cooking unless she’s interested in them as actual humans!! Also did u try the lemon sorbet?? wasn’t it AMAZING???

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t handle any more Valentine chaos tonight.

As I set my phone down, another message appeared:

u can hide from me but not from THE TRUTH. See u at breakfast!! Pancakes at 8!!!! BE THERE OR BE NOT THERE WHICH WOULD BE SAD