Tamika snapped her head around, hastily covering up: “Oh… nothing. Just wondering if the Golden Milk burned. It’s fine.”
Alarieka knew Tamika was hiding something—something big. What could it be? And Tamika wasn’t willing to tell her own daughter. Alarieka wanted to ask, but too many things demanded her attention now. She couldn’t spare a thought for Tamika’s worries.
Tamika stood up, speaking quickly: “Anything else to say? If not, I’ll check the Golden Milk. Don’t want it scorched.”
Before Alarieka could respond, Tamika turned and left, her retreating back almost fleeing. Alarieka watched her mother’s figure, deep in thought.
That evening, Alarieka logged into her social account. Fingers flying over the keyboard, she drafted a full statement. Before hitting post, she checked the time. 8:30 PM. Her eyes flickered to Paloma Wyatt’s message: [I’m fine. Don’t worry. Focus on your studies. I’ll handle everything.] Without hesitation, Alarieka pressed “post” with firm precision.
She tossed her phone aside, collapsing backward onto the bed. An arm draped over her eyes as she released a long, weary sigh.
Meanwhile, Lin Huan drew a deep breath and knocked on the CEO’s office door. A low voice answered: “Enter.”
“Mr. Argent,” he stepped inside, tone measured, “the school responded.”
Kieran Argent looked up from his computer. Blue screen glare reflected off his lenses, but the sharp intensity in his narrowed dark eyes remained undimmed.
“Speak.”
Lin Huan reported: “The Dean said they’ve communicated with Ms. Huston. She agreed to post an apology following the school’s drafted statement. They sent the draft. Would you review it?”
He approached, placing the flimsy document before Kieran. Kieran scanned it. Within moments, Lin Huan saw the exact reaction he’d anticipated—furrowed brows, darkened expression, voice dropping dangerously low: “Who drafted this apology?”
Clearly demanding accountability. Though slightly flustered, Lin Huan stayed calm: “The school prepared it. Ms. Whitaker was present when it arrived. We intended to show you first, but Ms. Whitaker approved it immediately. She instructed Ms. Huston to post it verbatim.”
He paused, watching Kieran’s brow furrow deeper, lines etching like harsh strokes. A flicker of unease made Lin Huan lower his gaze. “I advised Ms. Whitaker to consult you, but she insisted it was unnecessary. She oversaw my confirmation to the school…”
Unease, yet not truly alarmed. As long as Ms. Whitaker was around, Lin Huan didn’t worry about how angry Mr. Argent might get. After all, everyone close to Mr. Argent, including Lin himself, knew how indulgent he was toward Ms. Whitaker. He responded to every request, attended to every need, and showed concern for every worry—she was his sole exception and favorite.
His favoritism was so extreme that longtime associates like them were constantly astonished, often marveling at how love could transform a work machine like Kieran Argent into soft clay, willingly kneeling at Ms. Whitaker’s feet.
It was common knowledge among all staff that whenever Ms. Whitaker visited the office, Mr. Argent’s mood improved dramatically. His subordinates would face fewer reprimands. So they always hoped Ms. Whitaker would visit more often to temper Mr. Argent’s temper.
Given her special status, the staff treated her as a quasi-boss. They followed Ms. Whitaker’s wishes whenever possible, knowing it pleased Mr. Argent.
Lin Huan had personally handled matters between Ms. Whitaker and Ms. Huston. He contacted media influencers to shape public perception, negotiated with social platforms to buy multiple trending topics, and forcibly shifted online sentiment—channeling all positive attention to Ms. Whitaker while directing all criticism toward Ms. Huston.
Being directly involved, Lin clearly saw the stakes. His pity and sympathy for Ms. Huston grew stronger. He knew Ms. Huston was truly innocent.