As soon as Alessia disappeared into the backyard, Hamilton hurled his teacup across the room. It shattered,
fragments scattering over the hardwood floor.
The staff all lowered their heads, eyes fixed on their shoes, barely daring to breathe. The butler pressed his lips
into a thin line and gestured for a few of them to take down the painting and leave. No one dared dawdle-they
quickly gathered their things and hurried out.
“That little brat has quite the attitude!” Hamilton slammed his hand against the table so hard that everything on
it rattled.
“Please, sir, try to calm down.” The butler poured a fresh cup of tea and set it in front of Hamilton. After all these
years of service, he knew Hamilton wouldn't vent his anger on him.
“Didn’t the young master just enter a competition? If he wins a prize, his painting could be shown at Dale
Reeves'’s gallery. Then, if we get Dale Reeves to write a
letter of recommendation-"
The butler’s words trailed off, but Hamilton seemed to regain his composure.
“You're right. Instead of relying on someone ungrateful, it's better to... Prepare everything. Find out who's on the
selection panel this year. We need to make sure Tammie makes it to the final round. And look into what Dale
Reeves likes.”
“Yes, sir.”
The butler withdrew, leaving Hamilton alone in the room.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtFrom Hamilton's generation onward, the Quincy family hadn't produced a single true artist. Music, painting,
literature-all of it remained superficial, unable to withstand any real scrutiny.
It wasn't for lack of talent-on the contrary, he'd been so gifted and praised so much that it left him arrogant,
unable to settle down and refine his craft. To maintain his reputation, he had to constantly mingle with the right
circles, buying other people's works and passing them off as his own at exhibitions.
His parents, disillusioned by all this, had chosen to retire to the countryside and never returned-not even in
death.
Maybe it was fate’s revenge: none of his children showed any real promise. Karen had a bit of talent, but her
health was so poor that she probably wouldn't survive
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Chapter 325
long even with training. He'd sent her off to live with his parents in the country, thinking it was pointless-only for
her to grow up healthy, but lose even that small spark of talent along the way.
Now, finally, there was Tammie-a child he cherished above all else. Whether the Quincy family could reclaim its
former glory rested on Tammie’s shoulders. Hamilton spared no expense, sending him to the best art schools
abroad, staging exhibitions, building up his reputation as a child prodigy.
But instead of improvement, Tammie becparalyzed by all the praise-unable to paint anything at all.
With Tammie on the verge of becoming a second Hamilton, and the Quincy fortune not what it once was,
Hamilton had no choice but to bring Tammie home.
Berlington Elementary-this was his best shot. Really, his last.
Determination burned in Hamilton's eyes.
He snorted. “You think you can outplay me, little girl? You're far too green.”
He thudded his teacup onto the table, splashing tea over the rim, unconcerned.
Then he dialed a number.
“Hamilton.” The voice on the other end was young.
“I accept your offer.”
ork
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Alessia’s anger, so carefully built up, dissolved at his teasing words.
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