His Destructive, Toxic Love novel Chapter 248

“No need. I just want to go home and rest for a bit. Plus, Brock’s still at the neighbor’s, and I’m worried about him,” Eliza said.

Aaron grabbed his jacket and Eliza’s purse, helping her up. “Alright.”

Casper emerged from the bathroom, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, a subtle, almost invisible smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watched the two leave together.

Casper didn’t leave Oak Falls. Sometimes, he’d find himself at the school where Eliza taught painting. He enjoyed standing outside the window, watching her teach the kids. She taught them how to sketch various flowers and plants, stroke by stroke.

“Miss Valerie, is that handsome man outside your boyfriend?” a sharp-eyed little girl asked, pointing toward Casper.

Eliza glanced up and saw Casper giving her a casual wave. “I don’t know him. Now, look here. This line is too heavy. You need to make it lighter here,” she corrected the child, focusing on the task at hand.

“Got it, Miss Valerie,” the kid replied, concentrating on her drawings.

Eliza sighed and stepped out of the classroom. Her expression turned icy as she approached Casper. “Mr. Casper, you’re everywhere, aren’t you?”

“Just here for business. Did I bother you?” he replied nonchalantly.

“Yes,” she answered curtly.

“Ms. Valerie, sometimes words can sting,” he remarked with a faint smile before turning and walking away.

Eliza paused, momentarily taken aback, before a colleague called her to the principal’s office. She brushed off her confusion and headed inside.

“Sir, you want me to tutor someone in painting?” she asked, puzzled.

“Just one month?” she asked, uncertain.

“I only agreed to one month,” the principal assured her.

Despite her reluctance, Eliza had to honor the school’s commitment.

Casper’s house in Oak Falls was a simple, spacious, and modestly decorated apartment. Right opposite the entrance, on a console, was a painting. It was a portrait she had given to Casper years ago. The painting had aged, and the pigments were showing signs of fading.

She stared at it, lost in thought.

“Ms. Valerie,” Casper said, gesturing for her to sit in the living room. “This painting was done for me by my late wife. What do you think? Not bad, right?”