There are many names I wanted to scream last night. Dimitri Asterio's name happened to be one of them.

There were many words I wanted to call him. But even my wide vocabulary could never cover the hatred I felt for him.

I arrived home a little after one which completely threw me off schedule. The guy who towed my car back home stated that my car was already at its end and with the accident that happened, it served me no use. He offered to scrap it for me but I told him no. With my car (almost) scraped, I was now left to reply on public transport. It wasn't that bad, in all honesty.

The thing that made it harder was waking up an extra hour earlier just to make sure to catch the tube on time. Regardless, I'll survive.

After four hours of teaching, praising students for their behaviour which was expected today because they could not afford any mishaps in case I dished on them tonight and a throbbing headache. I was grateful lunch had arrived.

All I wanted to do was sit alone, eat my horrible mac 'n' cheese and call it a day already. The staff room still smells like grounded coffee beans and there's a tinge of the scent burnt toast in the air as I nod at some other members, stalking my way towards the far end of the room at my usual spot with my container that holds the goods blazing the side of my palm.

My phone begins vibrating once I plop myself down on the sage green couch next to the open window. I squint my eyes at the caller ID before a smile wipes across my lips.

"Me sorprende que hayas recordado, abuela." I tease, laughing to myself. "You seem to be enjoying retirement a bit too much,"

I can hear her shock over the line and probably shake her head at me. "It's you who's forgotten me, mi dulce flor." She mocks my tone. Then her accusing tone is back on with no tinge of mercy, "You don't even come to visit me anymore!"

"Lo siento, lo siento." I sigh, imagining her lonely at home trying to navigate netflix and failing miserably at it. "Just been busy with work and..."

"And?"

"And myself," I laugh.

She coughs. Her voice raspy and mildly worrying. "Que pasa?" She coughs again, her voice out of breath. "Are you alright?"

Abuela's voice seized immediately before her flowery laughter filters through. "Sí. Just a tiny cough, nothing to worry about." She plays it off nicely but I know she's in pain.

I chew the inside of my cheek, hearing her ramble on about her medication and how the GP is still prescribing her the same painkiller for her knee pain. From Abuela's words, they don't bring her any relief nor nights of peace. "But I didn't call you to tell you about my weak knees. I called you because he sent me some money..." her voice trails off, waiting for my reply.

I thread my hands through my hair, my elbows meeting my knees as I hunch over listening to the empty static and loud breathing from Abuela. I don't know what to say. Or how to say it. "I don't want his money. I never did nor ever will and you can tell him that Abuela." I clip firmly. A little too harshly.

I can imagine her forehead creasing with lines of worry, her lips trembling and her expression filled with aching concern. "Bella..." she begins. "It's eight-thousand this time. He doubles it every month." Her voice is a whisper as if it's some sort of cardinal sin to speak of such exuberance.

I brace myself, taking a huge breath. I feel as if the walls are closing in on me and begin feeling a little faint. "Yes," my words are calculated, measured. "And he will continue to double it every month. You can send it back to him or keep it for yourself but please for the sake of God, don't give me his charity." She sighs on the other end.

"Alright Bella. I'll send it back to him. But please come and visit me soon, yes?" I almost crumble at the sound of her hoarse voice. All I wanted right now was Abuela near me and her tiny frail frame in my arms.

"Yes, I'll come very soon, I promise." She goes silent on the other line and I begin to wrap up the call. "I need to get back to my class now but yes I'll come soon," the line goes dead and I stare numbly across to the view of the playground where a group of boys are playing one touch with a football. They kick it high, it comes down fast, sending a group of girls running for their lives.

When I turned eighteen, I legally changed my last name to erase any significance or binding to him. Then towards the end of September, I was off for university, with a bright future ahead and no money to my name. Everything I had known slashed from my name and it weighed like a ton of bricks.

A decade later, I still can't seem to escape him.

Ignoring my train of thoughts and in need of a desperate distraction, I scroll through my notifications and tap on Twitter. I scroll through the timeline, retweet some memes and laugh at some mishaps that my friends have shared before my finger accidentally swipes on the trending tab.

It takes a second for me to process the words before my mouth drops open. I click open the tab and read some tweets as people are freaking out about how the billionaire is invoked within Driz's exclusive circles of VIP's.

Driz was only the next mainstream artist and for Dimitri Asterio to be partying with him, it seemed so absurd and I was left simultaneously impressed.

It's only when they view the tweets next to someone's tweet, I realise how friendly they seem with one another. I frown, he knows Driz?

My mood buzzes off immediately and I frown, my screen turning black. It explains why he was in Soho last night - partying with a well famous celebrity like Driz. I think back to his face, then my car and his panic and -- the car crash.

Thinking about such an incident still makes me shake. Never in a million years did I expect a billionaire to crash into my car and then flee the scene of the crime.

It made me mad about how he chose to take no responsibility and run away like the coward he was. Is this how you act? Is this how entitled and ruthless businessmen behaved like?

Yes, it was exactly what they behaved like. Trust me, I would know. I've had first hand experience. Asterio has billions but takes no responsibility for his actions. And my car – My car is totally gone now. Scraped as if it was never there.

I recall the lights – the red, the white, the adrenaline, the anger. His nonchalant face, the look of panic, my hoarse voice and then...

Call me.

I had his card. I rampage my coat pocket for the sleek black card that he shoved into my hands and my hand collides with its edge.

The design was sleek, black with his name and letters in bold, inked in white. I pursue my lips to the side, expecting his minor detailing of his business card. I stare at the white letters again and frown. I could call him... like he said. He owes me. Yes, he owes for my car.

I type in my passcode, opening up the keypad and type in the first three numbers.

Then I pause. I read the card, again. It was only his business card and the thought disappointed me even further. I don't know why I was expecting something different - maybe his personal card? His very own phone number.

No, don't get me wrong here. Calling his business card meant that I would have to get through various PA's before him. If they even allowed me to get ahold of the man who ran away.

With a sigh, I bury the card into my pocket again and promise to never look at it again. After knowing it took the BNS several months to hook Asterio for their interview, why would a man like him waste a second of his time on me?

So, I decided against my better judgement and decided not to call him. I'll take the tube then save up again for a new car or maybe finance one. I don't know, but I'll find a way.

"Hey, Bella." Jeremiah greets with his dazzling smile. He pops himself down beside me, crossing his leg over his and sitting back comfortably. He passes me an eyebrow, examining me closely. "Are you alright? You seem a little stressed out." he could probably tell I looked like absolute shit today from my lack of sleep and frizzy hair. Then again, I didn't blame myself either. It wasn't my day.

I wipe over my face, trying to physically wipe off the exhaustion and fatigue. "I'm alright." My voice is small no matter how much I try to fake it. "It's just been a stressful day."

He nods agreeing at the comment. Then something passes over his eyes, turning to me. "How was your night yesterday?" He cranes his torso towards me, giving me his full attention.

My nails dig into my skin as I cross my arms over my chest, my eyes trailing down thinking of last night's disaster. "Last night was awful."

He perches himself closer, mildly alarmed. "Your friend and you didn't have fun?" He keeps his coffee-coloured eyes glued on mine as he searches for another answer.

Upon his concern, I burst out laughing and because he's sitting very close to me that I can smell his expensive cologne off him. I shake my head, denying my previous statement, "No, I had a lovely time with Quinn, it was after that." I bit my lip, noticing how his white shirt moulds into his chest. He remains silent, waiting for me to reply again. "I got into a car crash,"

His eyes search my face, looking over and down. "Are you alright? Are you hurt at all?" he begins searching my hands for any signs of injury.

I mean... I did see my life flash before my eyes but I'm okay. My lips split with a smile, telling him that I'm fine and he shouldn't worry.

He presters on, crossing his arms and examining me with a deadly glare. "Are you sure? Maybe you need to be examined by a school nurse?"

At Jeremiah's panic glances and forceful instance, I can't help but smile which soon envelopes into a nervous giggle. "Examined by the school nurse and not a hospital?" I arch my eyebrow at him, pushing him a little more.

Jeremiah awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, his mouth dry with words.

"I'm pulling your leg, Jere." I nod at him, tapping him on his arm as a reassuring gesture. "I promise you, I'm good. Look, I don't have a single sarcatch on me," he watches me skeptically as if my words don't bring him any reassurance. "My car on the other hand... I wish I could say the same."

He licks his lips, his words sincere and his eyes warm. "I'm sorry to hear about that, Bella." His eyes flicker up to me again, his posture determined. "You should claim and make that person pay for the damages." he suggests with a little force, nodding in hope that I would agree.

I let out an exhausted sigh, biting my tongue. If only it was that simple.

Shaking my head, I confess that there won't be any need for that and that I'm lucky and happy to be alive. He smiles slightly at the comment, opening his mouth to say something then closing it. "Please be careful next time."

Jeremiah glances over to the right as a few people walk past us, passing him a pointed look with a huge wink in his direction. I ignore it but don't ignore the flushing of his skin to bright pink. "How did you get to work this morning?"

"The tube."

His eyes widened, almost shocked before he wipes his right hand over his face. "That must've been hell." he replies lamely, the disapproval vibrant in his tone.

I laugh at his remark, crossing my legs over to the other side. "It's not that bad." I comment, meaning it. I could always slip between people in the morning and the tube would always be empty at my station. It was only when seven rolled around and it started becoming packed onwards from Hyde Park.

The worst part was around five to six when most of London ended their shifts. That was when the torture began and carriages brimmed with people.

He studies me for a second, "Would you like a lift home tonight?" he offers with a genuine smile.

My eyebrows raise in surprise, "You'd be willing to do that?" I feel mildly flustered.

From what I had observed he had a fairly nice car and drove it with pride. A couple of months ago, I had overheard Jeremiah's conversation with Carlos telling him how he'd worked his ass off to reward himself a decent car that didn't break down on him - a problem that most teachers at Trinity Academy seemed to have. I also became the latter.

That's not the reason, I initially object and he pesters on. Tight spaces, close intimacy with Jeremiah Spencer... The thought was appealing, to say the least, and painted my cheeks blush red.

I ask him if it's no trouble with a pointed look and he is offended. "Yes, of course Bella."

I thank him and he victoriously smiles to himself. He stands tall, gazing down at me. "When is your last appointment then?"

"Seven,"

He gives me his swoon-worthy smile that makes my heart flip once, twice. "See you at 7:10 then." He begins to walk away.

Jeremiah glances back, pointing to my uneaten box of food. "Eat your lunch," he commands.

With a grin, I reply back, "Yes, Mr Spencer." and he passes me a dazed look, his lips pressed tightly, stopping him from smiling.

* * *

I'm shocked and surprised to have survived three-fourth of parents' evening. The buzz began instantly at four pm and went onwards from seven. Trinity Academy was a private school – exclusively known for London's elite and parents who could pay their way for their children's education. I knew the ins and outs of the system well, and quite frankly, I was a little surprised that I even got a shot for an interview with the headteacher of Trinity – Mariah Sultan.

She liked me instantly.

Four years later, I wouldn't trade it for the world.

I say goodbye to the last of the parents after discussing Mia Chao's latest performance in class and how she should equally divide her time between all her subjects to help her pursue the best results for her GCSE exams from May to June.

She was an overachiever and I saw nothing but the best for her. There wasn't the faintest of doubt that she wouldn't do well for her exams.

On the other hand, meeting with Christian Williams' mother scared me out of my skin. She was a forceful woman and knew exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it. She regarded me with warmth but with Christian.. she would show no mercy. Sadly, I had to inform her off Christian's behaviour in class with added rehearsed remarks of "he has potential but fails himself,"

I was sure he hated me now. And he probably got an earful in the car.

He was notoriously known for being the class clown and Theodore Terio's best friend. Together, they were future playboy extraordinaries.

I take a breather, downing three-thirds of the water bottle on my desk and glance at the clock on the wall. 6:49. Theodore should be arriving anytime soon.

I glance out to my depressing classroom view that is covered by some overgrown bushes now. The sky has blanketed itself into darkness but the clouds are still visible.

I can see my reflection staring back into the window and I look like a right hand mess – just another day of being a teacher.

My classroom door is open to let in some ventilation and the dimming buzz of the students and parents outside is prominent. I can make–out Theodore's fast footsteps approach the corridor, along with his pissed off voice. "C'mon man! I don't want to be late and disappoint my favourite teacher!" He screams to someone.

Seconds later, he bursts through the door, panting. "Hey Miss R. I'm on time, I'm on time." He reassures himself and I smile at his antics.

"You came alone?" I ask, seeing no one is with him.

He shakes his head, "No, I forced my brother to come."

Brother? I didn't know he had an older brother.

Then, my eyes shift behind Theodore when a tall figure enters. And that's when I see him. His dark blue eyes meet mine and his pink lips instantly curve with a smirk.

Shit. Dimitri motherfucking Asterio is Theodore's brother.

————

Predictions for what will happen at the meeting?

It's happening!!! ....

signing off,

— 𝓐.