The Billionaire And His Children's Tutor

How a Breakup, Bad Wine, and a C

How a Breakup, Bad Wine, and a Cliff Almost Ruined My Life

(Hannah's POV)

If heartbreak had a smell, it would be cheap red wine and betrayal.

I learned that the hard way.

It started in Barry Winston's apartment-the one I used to think we'd eventually decorate together. White walls, gray couch, ambitions that no longer included me.

Barry stood by the window, hands in his pockets, shoulders squared like he was preparing for a business presentation instead of a breakup.

"Hannah," he said carefully, which was the first sign I was about to lose something important. "I've been thinking."

That was the second sign.

People never think before saying good things. They think before destroying you.

I forced a smile. "That's new. Should I sit down?"

He didn't laugh.

Strike three.

"I got the job," he said. "At Walton Empire."

I blinked. "I know. I congratulated you. Twice. I even cried a little."

"That's not the point."

Oh.

Here we go.

He turned to face me fully, eyes sharp, confident-too confident. The kind of confidence that comes with money, power, and suddenly believing you deserve better.

"I'm moving up fast," he continued. "My salary just doubled."

"I'm proud of you," I said softly.

He sighed, like I was exhausting him.

"Hannah... you're still in school."

Ah.

There it was.

"I graduate in six months," I said. "You know that."

"But six months is still six months," he replied. "And after that, you'll probably start small. Entry-level. Internships."

I stared at him. "Barry, what are you saying?"

He hesitated. Not because he was kind-but because he was a coward.

"I think... we're in different leagues now."

The words hit harder than any slap could have.

"Different leagues," I repeated. "Like football?"

"This isn't a joke."

"I'm trying to make it one so I don't cry."

He finally looked uncomfortable.

"You deserve someone at your level," he said. "And I deserve someone at mine."

I laughed then.

Actually laughed.

Because what else do you do when the man you planned to marry decides you're suddenly beneath him?

"So let me get this straight," I said. "You get a paycheck, and I lose a future?"

He looked relieved that I was taking it calmly.

"This is for the best."

"For who?" I asked.

"For both of us."

That was the moment I stopped listening.

I grabbed my bag, my dignity-what was left of it-and walked out before I begged him to stay.

I did not beg.

I was very proud of that.

The pride lasted approximately forty-seven minutes.

---

The wine came next.

I didn't buy it to get drunk.

That's what everyone says before they get drunk.

I bought it because my chest hurt and I needed something to quiet the noise inside my head-the what did I do wrong, the was I ever enough, the how could he leave so easily.

One glass turned into three.

Three turned into a decision to