If money couldn't persuade someone, it simply meant the offer wasn't high enough. Dexter knew this intimately. Money was never a problem for him; he had more than enough. Fifty million was a trivial expense if it secured his objective.
Initially, Mina seemed unmoved. But her resolve gradually weakened. Fifty million dollars was an astronomical sum, sufficient to guarantee a life of luxury for the rest of her days. Yet, a question gnawed at her: what had all this been for? Fifty million couldn't resurrect her husband. Wasn't her goal to avenge him, to ensure the Fuller family paid for their actions?
Dexter sipped his water, his calm demeanor belying the underlying tension. He said evenly, "Mina, you've worked for my family for many years. You know what kind of man I am."
His meaning was clear: they could settle this amicably, she could accept the money and sign the Letter of Agreement. If she refused, he would leverage his wealth and influence to protect Kayla, by any means necessary.
Mina felt the fight drain from her. After a long silence, she rasped, "Fine, I agree."
The night was crisp, the city vibrant with neon lights and bustling traffic. A multi-million-dollar luxury car circled the downtown streets twice, its driver increasingly anxious. Stephan sat in the backseat, his frustration palpable. His voice was cold and sharp as he glared at his team. "Is there still no sign of her?"
"We've found her!" one exclaimed, relief evident. "Mr. Russell, street cameras show her heading downtown after leaving the Fuller residence. She took an Uber to the city center."
They found Felicia on the rooftop of Khogend's most iconic building—the Tall Ben. Its massive clock face adorned the exterior, and the rooftop observation deck offered breathtaking city views. Stephan arrived and stopped short.
There she was, reclining on a lounge chair, legs propped up, eating a small slice of cake. Her posture was relaxed, her movements leisurely. Yet, the sight of her struck him.
Stephan muttered instructions to his staff, who nodded and left him alone. He strode towards her, the sound of his shoes echoing.
Felicia looked up, surprised. She had paid for privacy; how had someone gained access? But upon seeing him, her surprise morphed into amusement.
"Mr. Russell," she greeted, tilting her head. "What brings you here?" Her lips curled into a small smile. "Are you here to enjoy the show?"
The bruising on her face was still evident, but Felicia showed no embarrassment. She had faced Stephan in worse circumstances before—once with a bullet wound in her leg, even crawling to him, begging for help. This was nothing in comparison.
Her tone was light, playful, but Stephan didn't laugh. He took a step closer and did something unexpected. He gently covered her eyes with his hand.
Darkness enveloped Felicia's vision as his warm hand rested on her brow and eyelids. She blinked, confused.
"You don't have to smile if you don't mean it," Stephan said quietly, his voice steady.
Felicia stilled, her breath caught. She was adept at concealing her emotions, but Stephan had seen through her façade. Before he realized it, he reached out, wanting to soothe the pain on her face.