Reborn with My Genius Husband

Chapter 308 - 318: I Don’t Handle the Money, It’s with My Wife

Little Sister Quincy?

Mortimer Quincy tilted his head to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "Miss Winslow works too. Anything my wife calls me is fine."

Holly Winslow tilted her head and squinted at him, looking like she was about to say something shocking. "Even if it’s not yours?"

Mortimer Quincy gave her a dark look, then reached out and pulled her into his arms. "Hmm? So is it fine, wifey?"

Before Holly Winslow could answer, he lowered his head and bit her lip a little forcefully. "You just try it!"

"I’ll make you beg for mercy every night."

Holly Winslow: "..."

’This guy must have been secretly reading my novels. How else could he spout such a classic line from an overbearing CEO story?’

Just as she was about to say something, she caught sight of Wyatt Winslow at the doorway out of the corner of her eye. Before she could react, Wyatt silently walked away, probably afraid of interrupting what they might do next. "..."

Blushing, she pushed Mortimer Quincy away and muttered, "I told you, no getting all lovey-dovey at home."

Mortimer Quincy steadied himself and shrugged with feigned grievance. "Not at home, not in public... so when is it okay?"

"Never!" Holly Winslow bared her teeth, then dropped the subject and briskly walked out.

Mortimer Quincy followed close behind. "You don’t want to? I do."

The next second, he saw Wyatt Winslow, who had been about to enter his bedroom. "..."

He calmly continued, "...I want to buy you some clothes."

Holly Winslow: "..."

She looked at him and held out her hand. "Money."

’My wife is taking advantage of the situation to rob me of my allowance.’ Mortimer Quincy: "..."

He fished out the last three hundred yuan he had left in his pocket and handed it to her.

Wyatt Winslow glanced over, went into his bedroom, and quickly came back out. He handed over a dozen or so red bills to Holly Winslow.

"Go buy something."

With that, he turned and went back into his bedroom, but not before shooting Mortimer Quincy a look.

Mortimer Quincy: "..."

’My father-in-law probably thinks I’m poor.’

The next day, before Holly Winslow was even up, Wyatt Winslow gave him two thousand yuan. "Just say something if you’re short on cash."

Mortimer Quincy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. "Dad, there’s no need. I don’t spend much money. My salary is enough."

"Just take it." Wyatt Winslow paused for a moment before adding, "Holly only restricts your spending because she feels insecure."

"Dad, I’m the one who asked Holly to manage it." Mortimer Quincy felt the need to clear his wife’s name. He added, "Dad, I like it when Holly keeps me in line."

Wyatt Winslow gave him a look, then left for work without another word.

Mortimer Quincy gave the two thousand to Holly Winslow, telling her to return it to Wyatt. Instead, Holly pulled out one thousand and gave it to him. "This is this month’s allowance. If it’s not enough, come home and file a report."

Mortimer Quincy raised his eyebrows. "Wifey, you should take it and buy some clothes. Otherwise, you’ll start ’harrumphing’ again."

Holly Winslow harrumphed a few times.

Wyatt Winslow must have asked Joan Sawyer about what to pay attention to when trying for a baby, because that evening, Joan gave Holly a call. She tactfully explained how to conceive more quickly and what foods to avoid.

Holly Winslow felt like her phone was burning her hand. She shoved it directly at Mortimer Quincy, telling him to study up himself.

As for putting it into practice, the guy wouldn’t dare.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t be running his mouth with suggestive comments all day long.

...

Having passed her assessment, the school assigned Holly Winslow to teach two high school freshman math classes. However, one was a regular class and the other was an advanced class.

She finally understood Julian Carlton’s "differential" treatment back in the day. He’d be all smiles teaching one class, but when teaching his own, his face would be so stern you could wring ink from it.

Teaching these two classes was a completely different experience. The difference wasn’t huge, but it was enough to be infuriating.

The students in the advanced class were basically self-motivated and paid attention. In the regular class, only a small portion listened attentively, while the majority zoned out or played games.

They’d either hide behind a book or do it under their desks, in spots where they thought the teacher couldn’t see.

Holly Winslow saw it all. This was exactly what teachers meant when they said, "From my spot at the lectern, I can see every little thing you do."

It was true.

She spotted them at a glance. She watched them once, then again. The third time, she couldn’t help but put her book down.

It was one of those situations where she’d feel terrible if she didn’t say anything, and they’d feel terrible if she did.

Her expression was extremely serious as she reprimanded them. "Put away your phones and your novels!"

"Are your games fun? Are your novels interesting? Just wait three or four years and see how fun and interesting things really are then."

"You’re in your teens, you’re not little kids anymore. You should understand some basic truths. Why are you studying? For yourselves. For your future."

"Is listening in class so hard? Go and experience what your parents do for work every day, and then you’ll know how comfortable your lives are right now..."

She spoke for several minutes before concluding earnestly, "Class, study hard. In a few years, you’ll realize just how important it is."

"You can play anytime. You can still play in a few years. But your education won’t wait for you. Once these prime years for studying are gone, it will be much harder to pick it back up again."

Her sudden outburst stunned the entire class. For the rest of the period, they all appeared to be listening attentively.

Why "appeared"? Because their eyes were completely blank. Holly Winslow sighed to herself several times.

’I suddenly have the urge to pull someone’s ear.’

She left the classroom and sent this sentence to Mortimer Quincy.

Mortimer Quincy replied instantly: Come home and pull mine.

Back in the teachers’ office, the homeroom teacher for the class next door looked up at her. "Young Winslow, did you just lose your temper?"

She smiled and said reassuringly, "I’ll get used to it."

"Students get harder to teach with every generation. Before, students practically begged schools and teachers for an education. Now, it’s the teachers begging the students to learn."

...

While Holly Winslow was teaching at Jarton High, Anna Willow’s new center was also under renovation. Anna herself had passed her grad school entrance exams and was now studying at university.

Zeke Zane had also passed his grad school exams, as well as the bar exam.

Iris Kensington had followed Chris Chaucer to the city and found a clerical job at a company. The pay was decent—four thousand a month, with the five insurances and one housing fund, plus a housing subsidy.

Although the three of them hadn’t met up, they "reported" their daily activities to each other in their group chat every day. But since they were all busy, they would chat for a few minutes at most.

As for Mortimer Quincy’s group of high school roommates, six of them were in grad school.

Boris Owens, like Mortimer Quincy, hadn’t gone. His family used to run a small supermarket in the county, right next to the entrance of the junior high school.

He had gone home, renovated the storefront, and converted the small supermarket into something like a study hall for students.

Half of it was for selling study materials, and the other half was set up with tables and chairs for students to read and do their homework.

The counter also sold things like hot beverages.

This combination business model was very effective. Word was that on the first day of business, he made a thousand yuan from selling study materials alone.

She and Mortimer Quincy hadn’t had time to go for his grand opening. Today, they finally found a moment, and a group of high school classmates arranged to meet at his study hall.

Boris Owens was currently explaining a problem to someone. Looking at him now, he seemed much more put-together than before.

Holly Winslow had only been watching for three seconds when a large hand gently twisted her head away. Meeting Mortimer Quincy’s gaze, she gave a silly grin. "My eyes have gone bad."

Mortimer Quincy: "..."

Pantheon unabashedly went behind the counter and made a few cups of hot milk for Cynthia Owens and the other girls.

When Boris Owens walked over, Chase Hawkins leaned on the counter and joked, "Boss Owens, offering the full package, I see."

Boris Owens’s eyebrow twitched. "Of course. They paid for it. Did you all get together to try and shake me down for a meal?"

Paul Powell nodded. "Good that you know. Let’s get that seafood hot pot going."

"Nope. Make the Quincy Scion pay. He’s richer than me. Forget paying for a meal, he could buy the whole place," Boris Owens said, feigning reluctance.

The group immediately turned to look at the stealthy rich scion. The "scion" raised his eyebrows. "I’m not in charge of the money. My wife has it all."