I Became a Kindergarten Teacher for Monster Babies!-Chapter 379 Why was he with Alina?

And then, of course, her mind drifted back to him.

Those green eyes.

Those infuriatingly gorgeous moss-colored eyes that had been haunting her ever since the moment she saw him step out of that luxurious car like some kind of royalty dropped onto the street by mistake. Every time she thought about the sharp line of his jaw or the quiet intensity in his stare, her heart felt like it melted, stretched, then broke into sparkly confetti. She hugged her pillow like a teenager, kicking her feet in the air.

"What a man..." she whispered, breathless and giddy, replaying the memory in her mind. "Who even looks like that in real life? He must be a model. Or a prince. Or something exotic."

But every time her heartbeat fluttered, another thorn dug into her thoughts.

Why was he with Alina?

Celeste’s smile faded immediately. She clicked her tongue in irritation, her manicured fingers tapping the edge of her phone.

Alina, of all people.

Alina who was impossible to find anywhere.

Alina who disappeared from her old apartment without leaving even a dust print.

Alina who did not post, did not tag places, did not show her face.

Alina who kept her life so annoyingly private that Celeste had even gone as far as messaging the old landlord.

The man had shrugged and said he barely remembered the quiet woman who never talked.

Celeste had nearly screamed.

How was she supposed to figure out where this woman lived now?

How was she supposed to find out who that stunning man was?

She stared at her phone again, annoyance bubbling in her chest. And because jealousy always needed a place to land, her thoughts took their usual sharp turn.

There was no way that man was with Alina.

Absolutely no way.

"Please," Celeste scoffed under her breath, rolling her eyes. "Alina is too plain. What would a man like that want with someone like her? He was definitely just a friend. Or maybe an Uber driver with an expensive hobby."

Yet even as she tried to convince herself, an uneasy twist formed in her stomach, something mean and insecure whispering that maybe, just maybe, Alina had something she didn’t.

Celeste sat up straight, flipping her hair aggressively.

No. Impossible.

Suddenly her phone buzzed with an incoming call. The name flashing on the screen made her roll her eyes so hard it hurt.

Riccardo.

"Ugh, what now?" she muttered before answering.

The moment she pressed the button, she didn’t even let him speak.

"What did I tell you about calling me, Riccardo?" Celeste snapped, her voice echoing through her living room. "You broke up with me, you ruined my reputation, and now you think you can call me like nothing happened?"

"Watch your mouth," Riccardo shouted from the other side, full of anger and bruised ego. "Don’t forget who my father is!"

Celeste snorted loudly, unfazed. "Don’t you dare throw your father’s tiny connections at me. I am not scared of him."

"You should be—"

"Really? Because I," she cut him off sharply, "have the video of you and Alina."

Silence.

Thick, heavy silence on both ends of the call.

Celeste’s lips curled slowly, her anger sliding into satisfaction. She finally had his attention.

"...Send it," Riccardo said at last, breathing unevenly. "That girl and her freak of a boyfriend actually threatened me. Do you know how humiliated I am? I hate that man. He was too much, he beat me up, and after I healed a little, he sent his men again. I ended up in the hospital twice. Nurses whisper that I am cursed or possessed by a demon. A demon. Can you believe that?"

Riccardo’s voice cracked, part fear, part humiliation.

Celeste, however, felt her heartbeat quicken, not out of sympathy, but excitement.

So the mysterious green-eyed man she saw...

He was powerful enough to beat Riccardo.

Powerful enough to send fear through someone as arrogant as Riccardo.

Her fingers tightened around her phone as a delightful shiver ran through her body.

"What do you know about him?" Celeste asked softly, keeping her tone aligned with Riccardo’s anger to coax out the truth. "Who is he?"

"I don’t know!" Riccardo almost screamed. "That’s the worst part! He’s powerful. Too powerful. My bodyguards were useless, his men threw them around like toys. When I filed a complaint, nothing happened. How? Even my father’s people couldn’t find a single lead. It’s like he erased everything. That man is influential beyond anything I have seen."

Celeste’s pulse raced.

Powerful enough to make police ignore a complaint.

A powerful man.

Dangerous.

Untouchable.

And Alina knew him.

Her eyes gleamed with a mix of jealousy and curiosity.

Riccardo continued angrily, "Just send me Alina’s video. At least we can destroy her. If her boyfriend sees it, maybe he will dump her. That’s what she deserves."

Celeste smirked, her jealousy sharpening like a knife.

"Fine," she said sweetly.

She opened her secret folder, videos she had recorded long ago when Alina first joined the café. She chose the one she had always kept for revenge someday.

The video showed:

Alina smiling politely at Riccardo during her first week at the café.

Then the kitchen, Alina decorating a cake for a customer.

Riccardo entering from behind and hugging her without warning.

Alina freezing.

Then her pushing him away, shocked and furious.

Riccardo grabbing her face.

Trying to kiss her.

Alina struggling free and running out of the kitchen.

Celeste watched it again, slow and smug. If edited just right, she knew exactly how people would interpret it.

She forwarded the video to Riccardo and typed her message.

Celeste: You can tweak it. Make it look worse. Maybe upload it somewhere. Her boyfriend will surely leave her.

A second later her phone vibrated with his reply.

Riccardo: Good idea.

Celeste leaned back on her sofa, her smile stretching, her heart dancing with excitement.

At last, she had her first thread.

Something to pull.

Something to use.

"And now, Alina," she whispered to herself, twirling her hair, "let us see how perfect your little life really is."

Then she couldn’t help it. She laughed softly, a breathless mix of disbelief and thrill spilling out of her as she replayed the memory of those green eyes in her mind.

The more she thought about him, the faster her pulse fluttered, as if her heart had discovered a secret rhythm meant only for him.

Every time his face appeared in her imagination, tall and impossibly refined, standing beside that luxurious car like a living fantasy, a shiver of excitement curled through her.

She felt almost giddy, almost girlish, a strange warmth blooming in her chest. She wanted to see him again. She wanted to know who he was, what he did. The thought alone made her smile, wide and greedy.