Chapter 598 An Unexpected Encounter
Deep down, Russell still felt proud of Tilda. Proud that such a brilliant daughter was his, even though he knew he no longer had the right to feel that way.
But tonight was different. The celebration was too grand, too important. It was a national milestone, something that made every patriotic citizen’s heart race with pride. Overcome with excitement, Russell dragged a few close business friends who had also attended the occasion to a pub. They drank heavily in celebration. Drunk but elated, Russell booked the nearest hotel. He texted Wade to let him know and decided to walk there on his own. The night air would help him sober up. Almost like fate, his steps led him down a quiet side street.
And there, he ran into Tilda.
A cold wind blew past. Russell sobered quickly. The moonlight revealed her shadow–clear and real. Not a dream. Not a trick of the mind. It’s Tilda.
For a moment, Russell’s confidence crumbled. He grew timid.
“Russell,” Tilda snapped, anger simmering in her voice. “You once promised me that if I agreed to visit Blair in the hospital, you’d back off for good. That was the deal. Yet here you are again—following me, even finding out where I’m staying!”
“No, Tilda, that’s not it!” Russell stammered. “I swear, I wasn’t following you. I just happened to be walking here and ran into you. I was drinking earlier—I just left the pub. I booked a hotel nearby. That’s the only reason I’m here! I’m telling the truth!”
Gone was the powerful image of a chairman. What stood there was a powerless father, speaking to his daughter with desperate humility. Tilda could smell the alcohol on him. Her face stayed cold as she brushed past him, not wanting to waste another word.
She had no desire to tie herself back to the Jensons. Nothing good ever comes from them. Whether Russell followed her here or not didn’t matter—he wouldn’t be bold enough to track her. Tilda had erased her identity so thoroughly that uncovering where she stayed would take someone with power greater than a Queen. Russell had always been full of tricks. Tilda knew that better than anyone. He was a master at reverse psychology and subtle manipulation. More than once, he had struck at her weakest spots, pushing her into doing things she swore she wouldn’t—like visiting Blair in the hospital. She had to admit it: Russell hadn’t built his company into a household name by chance. He’d risen from nothing, carving out his empire in Cetherland’s cutthroat business world. The man had real talent. But Tilda had already laid her countermeasures against him. She had planned her moves long ago. Tonight was supposed to be a day of joy, and she refused to let a chance meeting with Russell spoil it.
“Tilda…” His voice trembled. He could feel the hatred rolling off her like a wave. His fists tightened at his sides. He wanted to say something—anything—that might stop her from walking away. The words hovered on his lips, but they wouldn’t come out. His chest tightened, the pain sharp, as if someone had gripped his heart in a fist. So many things he wanted to tell her, and only to her. But apologies? He had said them too many times already. He had even begged for her to forgive his mistakes. But those weren’t the words Russell had in mind today. He only wanted to pour out the pride he felt for Tilda. Deep down, even he thought he was shameless.
Whether Tilda was doing well or had gained great honor—what did that have to do with him? What right did he have to claim that pride?
Just then, two figures appeared.
“Russell! Wait! You are Tilda?!”
It was the two business partners who had been drinking with him earlier at the pub. Tilda recognized them right away. They were two giants in the business world from Urathe City and Piross City: Ashby Sinnett and Malcom, Tobias’s biological father. Ashby was sixty-three, bald, and heavyset, weighing close to four hundred pounds. At only five-foot-five, he wore a custom suit that barely disguised his bulk. His face was always red and always smiling, and when he walked, he looked like a jolly Santa Claus. But no one should mistake him for harmless. As someone who rose to the top in Urathe, Ashby was backed by nearly a century of family wealth, connections, and resources. His business instincts were razor sharp.
Malcom, on the other hand, was a different kind of figure altogether. Chairman of Crown Group and one of Piross’s most powerful men. Aside from his two wives, who managed his home and social affairs, and a long trail of public scandals, Malcom—now fifty-five—still carried the sharp looks of his youth. He appeared closer to his mid-thirties. At six-foot-one, with a body kept strong through regular workouts, he cut an impressive figure. The burgundy tailored suit he wore only made his presence more striking. Time hadn’t dulled him—it had refined him. The lines on his face gave him a steadier, more mature edge, which made him even more dangerous. Malcom was the kind of man who could draw women in like moths to a flame. Many would give everything for him, blinded by the charm that no one seemed able to resist.