Chapter 224

“What’s the story behind the private school?” Debra asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

Michael shook his head. “I can’t say for certain, but Shelia wasn’t a student at some prestigious private school. Anyone attending Beaconridge High comes from a modest family background. From what I recall, her mother was addicted to gambling, leaving them in a difficult financial situation. Our homeroom teacher once pressed her about tuition fees. Although Shelia insisted she could raise the money, she ended up dropping out.”

Debra’s brows furrowed as she listened intently. ‘So, Shelia isn’t an orphan after all,’ she thought.

“I know that the private school only accepts girls from orphanages,” she said. “Every year, the Nichols Group and other enterprises sponsor one or two girls from there.”

She remembered how, in her past life, the Nichols Group had sponsored many students, but Shelia was an exception. It all began when Juan caught Shelia feeding stray cats during a sponsorship meeting. In Juan’s words, Shelia was a gentle and kind girl. Perhaps that incident, coupled with Shelia’s innocent appearance, planted a seed of tenderness in Juan, a man usually hardened by the cutthroat world of business.

“I’ll have someone investigate this thoroughly,” she added, lost in thought.

Michael chuckled, reaching out to smooth the crease on her forehead. Startled, Debra snapped out of her reverie.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re younger than me, yet you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. It’s time to relax a little. Can we lighten up?”

“It’s because the information you’ve given me is quite explosive.”

She texted Ben, asking him to investigate Shelia’s background at Beaconridge High.

The door to their private dining room opened, and a waiter pushed in a food cart, swiftly serving the dishes.

“As a token of my gratitude for such a valuable lead, I’ve ordered the most expensive dishes on the menu today,” Debra said.

“It’s very thoughtful of you.”

They clinked their glasses, unaware of a figure outside the door capturing the scene on their phone.

Later that night, Debra returned to the Nichols estate, with Michael personally driving her to the door. From a first-floor window, Juan watched them, his brow furrowing. He remembered Michael as an artist from Frazier Entertainment.

“Juan, I just made coffee for you,” Hester said, her voice eager as she waited for Juan to turn around. She wore home clothes and an apron.

Juan replied, “I don’t drink coffee at night.”

“I also brewed some tea,” Hester said, stepping closer. As she was about to hand the cup to Juan, she slipped, splashing tea onto his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Just then, Debra pushed open the door, taking in the scene before her. Hester was wiping Juan’s shirt; their faces were uncomfortably close. Juan immediately stepped back, distancing himself from Hester, and moved to take Debra’s bag.

“Mrs. Nichols, please don’t misunderstand. The tea was too hot, and I didn’t hold it properly,” Hester explained.

Debra offered her a light smile. “It’s okay, Miss Vargas. You don’t need to treat yourself as an outsider. It’s late, and you should rest.”

Hester glanced deeply at Juan, but his gaze didn’t waver.