Chapter 1

Peter’s mind reeled as he tried to make sense of this newfound information. It was a shock to know that not only he had a grandfather, but that he was the owner of the school.

“Where’s my grandfather now?” Peter asked.

“I’m afraid right now Mr. Hughes is bed-ridden and unable to come right now. When you’re better we will visit him.” Mrs. Duran explained.

“But what does this have to do with the attack on me?” Peter asked again, wanting to understand the connection.

Mrs. Duran leaned forward, her eyes serious and intense. “Think about it, Mr. Robinson,” she said. “Powerful men are just as vulnerable to female wiles as regular men. And if only a few of those men were to be entranced by St. Mary’s alumnae who were being guided by a power-hungry hand behind the scenes ... well, let’s just say the potential for bad things to occur would be staggering.”

Angela gasped in realization. “But that’s not what St. Mary’s is meant for!” she protested.

Mrs. Duran gave her a sad smile. “Of course not,” she agreed. “We strive to raise our students with ethics and moral principles. Imagine what another management, one without such scruples, could do with this kind of power.”

Peter was speechless. The implications were huge. The right word in the right ear could mean death or life, wealth or poverty, for people, companies, even countries. Most men think with their cocks. Maybe not all the time, but enough.

“So that’s why they tried to get rid of me,” Peter said, shaken.

“I’m afraid so,” Mrs. Duran confirmed.

“So who are those people? What can we do?”

Mrs. Duran looked at the door, to confirm it was closed. Then she approached a chair to the bed and sat.

“St. Mary’s was founded by Mr. Hughes’ family about 100 years ago. It has been passed to one direct descendant since then, to be chosen by the owner at that time. It was decided to do it this way instead of to the oldest child in order to avoid giving it to somebody not up to the task, whether by moral reasons or otherwise. To avoid family conflicts, those direct descendants who didn’t get St. Mary’s got instead a part of the huge family wealth, which is held in a trust by the owner of St. Mary’s. Most descendants were content to receive money and properties instead of a school, so there were no conflicts until now.

In the case of Mr. Hughes, there were two candidates, his father and his uncle. In the end, his father was given St. Mary’s and his uncle was given an equivalent part in wealth. Both brothers were content with this, but one of his uncle’s sons realized the potential for power of the school, and wanted it. As things were set up, the only way for Mr. Hughes’ uncle’s descendants to get their hands on St. Mary’s would be if Mr. Hughes died without inheritors.”

“And there were no inheritors, until he found me.”

“Correct. Until months ago, Mr. Hughes had been grooming another man for the post, one of his grand-nephews. But when you entered the scene, that man had to go. He was given a consolation prize, a very plush position in one of the companies and a huge settlement in cash.”

“Samuel Johnson?” Angela ventured.

“Yes, dear.” Mrs. Duran confirmed.

“So Samuel was who ordered the attack on me?” Peter asked.

“We don’t think so. Samuel is a good man, and his psychological profile confirmed it. Can’t say the same about his grandfather, tho.”

“So...” Peter sighed.

Mrs. Duran nodded. “Yes. We’re sure that Samuel’s grandfather, Michael Hughes, is the one behind all of this. He has always been power-hungry and manipulative, and when he saw the opportunity to take over St. Mary’s for his own gain, he took it.”

Peter shook his head in disbelief. “But why didn’t anyone try to stop him? Surely there are other members of the family who could have seen his true intentions.”

“Unfortunately, we have no solid proof and Michael Hughes is a master manipulator,” Mrs. Duran explained. “He tried to convince Mr. Hughes that St. Mary’s would bring them more power and wealth than they could ever imagine, but Mr. Hughes refused to follow that path.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be convinced, either!” Peter said firmly.

Mrs. Duran chuckled. “I can see that,” she replied with a smile. “And that’s precisely why Mr. Hughes chose you to be his successor.”

“Because I’m his grandson?” Peter asked.

“Not only that. Remember, the position is not inherited automatically. The current owner must be of the opinion that the inheritor is worthy.”

“And I am worthy?” Peter inquired.

“Yes. You have proven yourself,” Mrs. Duran answered simply.

Angela furrowed her brow in confusion. “Proven? In what way?”

Mrs. Duran turned her gaze towards Angela and smiled warmly at her before answering Peter’s question.

“You have integrity, Mr. Robinson,” she said sincerely. “You may not realize it yet, but you possess qualities that make you stand out from others in this world of power and greed.”

Peter looked down at his hands, feeling embarrassed by Mrs. Duran’s words.

“I’m just a regular guy trying to make a living,” he said quietly.

Mrs. Duran leaned forward and placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“You are anything but regular,” she reassured him. Peter looked at Mrs. Duran’s eyes and almost saw a hint of Emma.

Just then, there was a knock on the door and Mrs.Duran quickly withdrew her hand from Peter’s shoulder as if she had been caught doing something wrong.

“It must be time for your medication,” she said with a nod towards Angela.

“We need to go now, but there is a guard in the door for your protection. We will come back later to inform you of our next steps.” Mrs. Duran turned and left.

“Get well soon, Peter. Everyone in St. Mary’s misses you.” Angela said.

A soft and hesitant knock sounded on Peter’s bedroom door. His mind immediately searched for the source of the sound, trying to place the owner of the shy voice that followed.

“May I come in?” the voice asked timidly.

“Penelope?” Peter replied, surprised by her unexpected visit.

“Yes!” she entered the room with a shy smile on her face, closing the door gently behind her. “I ... I brought regards from the students. All of them wish you a quick recovery,” she said earnestly.

Peter couldn’t help but smile at her kind gesture. “Thank you, Penelope. It means a lot.”

She took a seat in the chair next to his bed and reached out to take his hand in hers. “We also miss you in class,” she said softly. “Mr. Ochoa is doing his best, but he can never replace you.”

Peter chuckled, feeling a sense of pride and affection towards his dedicated students. “I miss you all too,” he admitted truthfully. His body had been used to late-night activities with his students, and now that he was temporarily out of commission, it felt like a part of him was missing.

Penelope’s hand ventured under the sheets and found its way to his manhood, gently caressing it with her fingertips. “I’m sure you do,” she commented with a playful smirk as she felt it start to stir under her touch.

“Oh, Penelope, I don’t think...” Peter started to protest, but was cut off by her placing a finger on his lips.

“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “Miss Dickinson thought it might aid in your recovery.” With that, she began to stroke him slowly with her hand, eliciting pleasure from deep within him.

Peter’s muscles tensed as Penelope’s hand continued to work on his erect penis. He felt a mix of arousal and discomfort, knowing that it was probably normal for patients in his situation to have these types of needs and desires. But for him, it still felt inappropriate.

“Penelope, I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think this is appropriate,” he said, gently trying to push her hand away.

But Penelope seemed determined, her voice now huskier as she spoke. “It’s just a way to help you heal,” she insisted.

Despite his reservations, Peter couldn’t deny that her touch felt good and his body responded eagerly. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on something else, anything else, but Penelope’s skilled hands were too distracting.

Just as he was about to give in to his desires, there was a knock on the door. Quickly composing themselves, Peter and Penelope looked up as Angela entered the room with a warm smile.

“Good afternoon, Peter,” she greeted him. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Erm ... no, not at all,” Peter stuttered, discreetly adjusting himself under the sheets.

“Oh good,” Angela said with a knowing look. “I hope you’re enjoying Miss Parker’s healing touch.”

Angela glanced at Penelope who grinned widely, making it clear that she was enjoying the situation.

“Did you...?” Peter began to ask, his voice raspy and weak.

Angela nodded, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “Yes, I did. Mrs. Duran suggested that it would be good for your recovery, and I agreed.”

Peter’s eyebrows raised in surprise at the mention of the principal. “Mrs. Duran?”

Angela grinned. “Yes. And she asked me to tell you that Emma wants you back on your feet soon.”

A smile spread across Peter’s face remembering their time in Spain. It gave him a renewed determination to heal quickly.