Chosen By My Mate's Father-in-law novel Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Chapter 21: Game On

“Are you coming out anytime soon?” I called from the doorway, trying not to sound as irritated as I felt.

Michelle didn’t even look up. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, her eyes glued to the glowing screen. “No,” she said flatly. “Not until I finish this quest.”

I crossed my arms. “Michelle, you’ve been at that computer since I got here.”

“Exactly,” she muttered, still not sparing me a glance. “I’m in the middle of a boss fight. If I leave now, I’ll have to start all over.”

I bit my tongue. I had to remind myself—this wasn’t just any kid. This was Michelle Laken, daughter of the Lycan King, queen of stubborn streaks and icy stares.

But I wasn’t about to give up that easily.

I leaned over to take a look. My eyebrows lifted. “Is that Beast Realms: Legacy?”

Michelle didn’t even glance my way. “Yeah. The new edition dropped last week.”

“Seriously?” I walked closer. “I used to play the original version all the time. I was addicted for a whole year.”

She lost another round. Her character fell in battle with a dramatic groan. Michelle groaned louder.

“Ugh! I’ve been trying to beat this boss since this morning!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Want help?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t look like someone who plays games.”

I smirked. “I’ll take that as a challenge. Move over.”

She didn’t budge at first. Then she sighed dramatically and pushed her chair back.

“Fine. But if you die, I’m rubbing it in.”

I cracked my knuckles. “Deal.”

Behind us, the butler appeared in the doorway, frowning. “Miss Jasmine, I thought this was study time.”

Michelle gave me a sideways glance, daring me to explain.

I shrugged. “It is. This is just... strategy development.”

The butler didn’t look convinced. He mumbled something about “encouraging bad behavior” and walked away, shaking his head.

Michelle snorted. “He thinks you’re the worst tutor I’ve had.”

I grinned, my eyes focused on the screen. “Good. Maybe that means I’ll be the one that sticks.”

Then I dove into the game.

My fingers remembered what to do. The movements came back like muscle memory. Dodge, strike, spin, retreat. The boss moved fast, but not fast enough. Michelle leaned in, eyes wide.

“No way,” she whispered.

A minute later, I delivered the final blow. The game flashed ‘Victory’, and Michelle let out a half-gasp, half-scream.

“You did it!”

I leaned back in the chair, pretending to dust off my hands. “Told you.”

Michelle blinked. “You’re not normal.”

“I get that a lot.”

She looked at me, expression unreadable for a second. Then she mumbled, “Thanks.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Was that gratitude I just heard?”

“Don’t get used to it. I wanna play one more round,” Michelle whined, already reaching for the keyboard again.

“Nope.” I stepped between her and the chair like a wall. “We had a deal. Finish your homework, then I help you with the game. Not the other way around.”

She gave me a glare that would’ve made a weaker woman back down. But I just crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Fine,” she muttered, stomping over to her books.

I handed her a pencil. “Thank you.”

“I’m only doing this so you don’t leave before helping me beat that water dungeon.”

“Whatever works,” I said with a smile.

For the next couple of hours, we went over math, history, and grammar. Michelle complained through half of it, but she listened. She asked questions. She actually tried. I helped her break the questions down into simple steps—something I had to teach myself back in school, thanks to my learning disorder.

Every time she struggled with a sentence or skipped a number in a math problem, I saw bits of myself in her. Frustration. Embarrassment. Convinced she’d never be good enough.

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