"You're bold, Raegan," Bryce said with a smirk. He then stood up and approached Raegan with a smile.

"Let's start with a glass of juice."

With that, he grabbed a glass of juice from a servant. Taking advantage of his height, he tilted his hand and spilled the red juice all over Raegan's coat.

"Oops, my bad," Bryce said with feigned innocence.

"My hand slipped."

Raegan remained calm and composed. She pulled a piece of tissue to wipe off the juice and said, "It's fine. Your father can afford the cleaning."

Before exiting his room, she added, "You have three days to think about it. If you don't cooperate, I'll ask Mr. Dixon to make you attend classes. I don't care if you like me. My job here is to teach."

Infuriated by her words, Bryce stormed out and yelled for his father to hear, "I don't like her. I don't want her as my teacher!"

Bryce's anger was evident, a far cry from Raegan's composure.

Meanwhile, Hector was taken aback. This was the first time Bryce had shown such frustration. Usually, it was the tutors who left the room in tears.

He noticed Raegan's stained overcoat and apologized, “I'm sorry about that. Bryce is a spoiled kid."

“Mr. Dixon, can I ask you something?"

“Sure. Go ahead."

“iihat's Bryce's current academic ranking?"

“He's about 235th in his school."

Raegan paused and pondered Bryce's academic potential.

"And how many students are at the school?"

“There are exactly two hundred thirty-five students," Hector replied nonchalantly.

Raegan was momentarily speechless.

Bryce was enrolled at an international school with a strict quota on student admissions each semester. Bryce's enrollment was likely because of Hector's generous donation of a building.