Chapter A Dash of Disaster
Maxwell glanced at the stained part of his shirt and then fixed his gaze on the culprit—the same girl who had bumped into him the day before. Having encountered her twice now, it seemed almost intentional, as if she knew who he was and was seizing opportunities to make herself known to him, like a schemer. But observing her more closely, it was clear she wasn’t the type to connive her way into the lives of the wealthy.
Her first reaction to spilling the milk wasn’t to check on him, but to stare at the dirty carpet and mutter to herself, “Oh no, the carpet’s dirty. I hope I don’t have to pay for this.” Then, she looked up at him with clear, innocent eyes, reminding him of a fresh college graduate stepping into society.
Not him again! Ellis flashed back to the staff calling him Mr. Maxwell. Great, she thought, his clothes were stained by her milk. Would I have to compensate him? She made more money than the average person, but she hadn’t increased her spending much and didn’t have a lot to spare. Spending even a little extra always pained her—especially considering the cost of a second-generation heir’s clothing.
She offered an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry about your shirt. Are you okay? Can I wipe it off with a napkin? Or maybe I can send you the dry-cleaning money via WhatsApp?”
“No need, just go and enjoy your food,” Maxwell responded, recognizing that she wasn’t well-off and didn’t need to compensate him financially. Besides, he had plenty of clothes; one less wouldn’t matter, especially since the hotel offered free laundry services. Yet, her mention of transferring dry-cleaning funds via WhatsApp made him wonder if she was trying to add him on WhatsApp.
“Alright, thank you!” she said gratefully. Relieved that he wasn’t making a big deal out of it, Ellis quickly made her escape, though she still felt a bit guilty. Unbeknownst to her, she had caught his attention.
Throughout the meal, Maxwell found himself glancing over at her. She ate with focus, never once looking his way. Transferring money via WhatsApp didn’t necessarily mean adding someone as a friend; it could also be done by showing a payment code for the other person to scan.
Whether she was scheming or not didn’t really matter; he wasn’t planning to stay in Kyrador for more than a week. After all, having money was one of his shining attributes. I couldn’t let the fear of opportunists force me to live as though I were poor, could I? Besides, being scheming wasn’t always a negative trait; sometimes, it depended on whether the person was likable or not.
Chapter 315 & A Dash of Disaster
If he happened to like the girl and she used her wits to get close to him—even if it included interest in his wealth—it wasn’t a big deal. At least he had something that attracted her, better than being seen as having no desirable qualities at all. What did love even taste like? He had yet to find out.
Back at Stonebridge, in Nexus Group, Morty didn’t head straight to his office but went to find Zion first. Seeing Morty push open the door, Zion’s expression darkened as he picked up a report, waiting for Morty to sit down before tossing it beside him, signaling him to read it.
“What’s going on? Our collaborative project with Tate Group is a mess,” Zion said, his words heavy with reproach. Morty didn’t rush to defend himself. He calmly opened the report. “Tate Group has proposed ending our partnership,” Zion added, this time with disappointment rather than blame.
Morty knew why Zion was disappointed, assuming the failed partnership was his fault. But the collaboration had been progressing smoothly; unless something catastrophic had occurred, there was no reason for such a quick failure, and he was confident in his abilities. His gut told him Easton had interfered. Suddenly, Morty despised Easton’s underhanded tactics and laughed at his naivety.
Does Easton really think that by sidelining me, Ellis will have no other men around and will willingly continue to be his wife? After reviewing the report, Morty put it back. “Uncle Zion, the loss from ending the partnership with Nexus Group is within our company’s capacity to absorb. Maybe we should just let it go?”
Zion was left speechless. He had brought Morty here to handle things, not to give up without even trying. “How have I taught you all these years? You’ve been working by my side for years and haven’t learned a thing. You think of running away at the first sign of trouble?” Zion’s face grew even darker.
“It’s Easton’s doing. If we don’t pull out now, our losses could be greater,” Morty admitted frankly. “Easton?” Zion looked puzzled. The Unity family and the Hudson family had been allies for generations, not business rivals, and had no old scores to settle. Why would Easton sabotage our company’s collaboration with Tate Group without any apparent reason?
“It’s due to forces beyond our control that Easton acted this way.” “What kind of forces?” “It’s…” Morty wanted to be honest with Zion, but he and Ellis had just started something—promising. He couldn’t let everyone know. “Uncle Zion, I’ll explain it to you later.”