When Victoria's granddaughter entered the room, the atmosphere had changed drastically. Victoria sat behind her desk, posture perfect, the picture of composure. Gone was the desperate woman from earlier, replaced by the steely matriarch she always presented to the world. Her hair, once slightly tousled, was now neatly pulled back, and her dress, though the same, appeared pristine. It was as if nothing had happened.
Dick almost smirked at the transformation. The contrast between the woman begging under him just moments ago and the one now acting in complete control was amusing. But he said nothing, turning his attention to the girl who'd just walked in.
She was younger than he expected—eighteen, maybe nineteen. She carried herself with an air of nervousness, despite the carefully selected outfit meant to impress. A fitted blazer hugged her slim frame, paired with tight, professional slacks that accentuated her curves. Her long dark hair fell past her shoulders in loose waves, framing a face that was delicate but not particularly striking. Pretty enough, but not the kind of beauty that would turn heads in a crowd. Her most notable feature was her eyes—large, doe-like, with a hint of hesitation in them as they flicked between Dick and her grandmother.
Victoria smiled at her, a smile that was all show and no warmth. "This is the trainer I told you about, dear," she said, her tone even, business-like. "He's agreed to help you with your… confidence issues."
The girl nodded slowly, her gaze lingering on Dick a little longer than necessary. She didn't look entirely comfortable, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, like she wasn't sure what to make of the situation. It wasn't the first time he'd seen that kind of look—the uncertainty of someone unsure about what they were getting into.
Dick stood up, keeping his expression neutral, though inside he was sizing her up. She was no Victoria—not yet, at least. This girl still had that innocence about her, the kind that hadn't yet been shattered by the realities of the world. But he could see the cracks forming, the insecurities that had brought her to this point. And if Victoria was handing her over, it meant there was potential to mold her into something more.
He extended his hand, watching as the girl hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it. Her handshake was weak, but her grip lingered just a bit longer than expected.
"I'm Dick," he said, voice calm, unassuming. "Your grandmother tells me you're looking to improve yourself."
The girl nodded again, dropping his hand quickly and taking a seat without being prompted. "I just… I need help," she said quietly, almost as if she was afraid to admit it out loud. "I'm not good at… dealing with people."
Victoria leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs and giving Dick a knowing look. She was content to watch this play out, clearly trusting him to take control of the situation, like she always did. He was the one pulling the strings here, even if the girl didn't know it yet.
"Well," Dick said, sitting across from her, his eyes steady on hers. "Confidence isn't something you can force. It comes from knowing yourself, knowing what you want, and not being afraid to take it."
The girl swallowed, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "I just… I'm always second-guessing myself. Especially around people like my friends or at work. I don't feel like I measure up, like they see me as… weak."
Dick tilted his head, studying her. "Confidence isn't about pretending to be something you're not. It's about knowing that even with your flaws, you're still better than past you."
Isabella frowned, her brow creasing in confusion. "Better than myself?" she asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant. Her large, doe-like eyes flickered over to Dick, searching for meaning behind his words.
Dick shook his head slowly, leaning forward in his seat, his gaze locking onto hers. "People often mistake confidence for arrogance. Arrogance is this vain idea that you're better than everyone else—something shallow and easily broken. Confidence, though? That's knowing you're better than who you used to be. Always improving, always pushing yourself forward. You don't care what others think because you've outgrown the version of yourself that used to care."
She shifted in her chair, a glimmer of understanding lighting her eyes, but the hesitation lingered. "But what if… what if I never feel like I'm good enough? Like no matter what I do, I'm still…"
"Still what?" Dick cut in smoothly, his voice calm but firm. "Still stuck in the same place, waiting for someone to tell you it's okay to be who you are?" He leaned back, letting the weight of his words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "That's not how it works. Confidence doesn't come from validation. You can't wait for someone else to hand it to you."
Isabella's gaze dropped, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. "I know, but… it's hard. When you're always comparing yourself to people who seem so… perfect."
Dick's lips curled into a slight smirk. "Let me tell you something about those 'perfect' people. Half of them are faking it. The other half? They're just as insecure as you, they're just better at hiding it. The difference between you and them isn't talent or looks or whatever you think they have over you—it's that they've decided they're enough, even when they're not."
Her eyes flicked up again, lingering on his face. "So, what am I supposed to do? Just fake it?"
"No." His tone was sharp, cutting through her doubt like a knife. "You work on yourself. You focus on what makes you better than yesterday, better than the girl who walked into this room. That's where confidence comes from—growth, not pretending."
Isabella nodded slowly, absorbing his words, but the uncertainty hadn't fully faded. Dick could see it in the way her eyes darted, the way she still struggled to sit still.
"Stand up," he said suddenly, his voice firm.
She blinked, caught off guard by the command, but after a second of hesitation, she did as he said, pushing herself up from the chair.
Getting up, Dick glanced over at Victoria and said, "Mrs. Harper, I think Isabella could use a little field trip. Do you mind?"
Victoria's eyes gleamed with approval, her lips curving into a small smile. "Of course not. Take all the time you need," she replied smoothly, her voice layered with a subtle eagerness. She knew exactly what Dick was capable of, and by now, trusted him implicitly.
Isabella blinked, caught off guard. "A field trip? Where are we going?" Her voice carried a hint of uncertainty, but there was also a flicker of curiosity.
Dick didn't answer immediately. Instead, he motioned for her to follow him, leading her through the grand halls of the Harper estate, past the silent portraits of long-dead relatives that stared down at them with the same cold indifference Victoria wore in public.
When they reached the entrance, the valet handed Dick his keys without a word. He stepped toward the sleek McLaren. Isabella hesitated at the sight of the car, eyes widening slightly, but Dick didn't give her time to dwell on it.
"Get in," he said simply, opening the door for her.
She slid into the passenger seat, still looking around. Dick rounded the car, took his seat, and started the engine.
For the first few minutes, they drove in silence. The streets outside were wide, pristine, the kind of roads that led to nothing but luxury and privilege. But Dick wasn't heading in that direction. Instead, he took a series of turns, each one leading them further from the polished estates and closer to the parts of town that the Harpers never ventured.
Isabella glanced out the window as the scenery changed, her eyes narrowing in confusion. The roads became narrower, rougher. The perfectly kept lawns faded, replaced by graffiti-tagged walls and the occasional cracked pavement. She fidgeted in her seat, her gaze darting back to Dick.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
Dick didn't answer immediately, his eyes focused on the road ahead. He didn't need to explain anything yet. She'd figure it out soon enough.
They passed the first neon sign—a cheap, flickering light outside a rundown bar. Isabella's eyes widened slightly, a hint of recognition flashing across her face. This wasn't the kind of place she was used to. The streets here were alive in a different way—loud, messy, the kind of alive that made people uncomfortable if they weren't used to it.
As they turned onto a busier street, the red glow of neon signs became more frequent. Bars, strip clubs, tattoo parlors—all with signs advertising things Isabella had likely never seen up close. The kind of places her family warned her about but never bothered to visit. She tensed, her body pressing against the seat as her gaze darted from one seedy building to the next.
"Why… why are we here?" she asked, her voice tight.
Dick finally spoke, his tone casual, like they were on a casual drive through town. "This is where people stop pretending."
Isabella's confusion deepened. She opened her mouth to say something but hesitated, glancing around again. Her eyes caught on a group of women standing under a streetlight, their outfits revealing far more than modesty allowed. They laughed, smoking cigarettes, uncaring about the eyes that passed them by.
"They don't care what people think of them," Dick continued, his eyes focused on the road. "No one here is pretending to be perfect. They're not waiting for permission to be themselves. They just… exist."
Isabella swallowed, her gaze lingering on the women for a moment before flicking back to him. "But they're… they don't have any other choice."
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "They've made their choices. Just like you have, just like everyone else does. The only difference is, they stopped worrying about what everyone else thought of them a long time ago."
She frowned, her fingers curling in her lap. "But they don't have… I mean, they're not like—"
"They're not like you?" Dick cut in smoothly, glancing at her for a moment before turning back to the road. "No, they're not. But that doesn't mean they don't have the same insecurities, the same doubts. The difference is, they don't let those things stop them. They know who they are, flaws and all. That's what confidence is."
Isabella bit her lip, clearly unsure how to respond. "What do you want me to do?"
Dick grinned, slowing the car to a stop near the curb where the women stood, their laughter cutting through the music. "Go and speak to them," he said casually. "Ask for their fares. Ask why they charge what they do. Observe how practical they are."
Isabella's eyes widened, panic flashing across her face. "I can't just… go up to them. They'll think I'm—"
"They won't think anything," Dick interrupted, his tone sharp but calm. "This isn't about them. It's about you."
She hesitated, glancing at the group of women before looking back at him, uncertainty still clouding her expression. "But... what if they say something? What if they think I'm judging them?"
"Who cares?" Dick replied, his voice hardening. "You're not here to be liked. You're here to learn."
Isabella swallowed hard, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. She opened her mouth to protest again, but one look at Dick's unrelenting gaze silenced her. With a shaky breath, she nodded and pushed open the car door, stepping out into the warm, buzzing night.