Andrew was sitting on the lawn outside Serenity Villa, watching the crew from The Sovereign Residences repair his home.
After the attack last night, it was a miracle the place was still standing–if the villa had not been built to the highest security standards, it would have been reduced to nothing but ash and rubble by the Srovika Federation mercenaries.
Felix Daughtry, the security captain from The Sovereign Residences, a semi–martial king–level fighter, walked over with a grim expression and reported, “Mr. Lloyd, Serenity Villa took quite a hit. Full restoration might be difficult.”
Andrew glanced at him and said coldly, “I want it restored exactly as it was, and not just that–The Sovereign Residences will need to compensate me for all damages, including emotional distress. If that’s too much, then I don’t want the house anymore. I’ll go to the press and let the world know just how useless your brand really is.”
Felix’s face darkened, turning almost pitch black with anger. He silently cursed the damn Srovika Federation mercenaries to hell as he walked off to make a call, clearly going to ask the higher–ups for a solution.
Chantelle let out a low chuckle and said, “You’ve got quite the temper, huh? Don’t you know the people backing The Sovereign Residences are the Three Titans?”
Andrew scoffed. “So what? I paid good money for this house. Shouldn’t they take full responsibility now?”
Chantelle replied flatly, “Of course they should. I just think your attitude is a bit over the top.”
Andrew said with disdain, “I deal in facts. I couldn’t care less about the Three Titans or whatever power plays they’re involved in.”
Aspen stepped in and said, “You were shot. Go inside and get some rest.”
Andrew shook his head. “I’m fine.”
Aspen gritted her teeth. “Why are you so damn stubborn? You literally got shot–how is that fine?”
Andrew looked at her with a strange expression, intrigued that she had just yelled at him, which was something new.
Chantelle raised a brow, clearly entertained. “Ms. Stevens, your condition seems worse than I thought. Studying people like you is honestly fascinating.”
Aspen’s cheeks turned a little red as she replied flatly, “Sorry, but I don’t think I’m sick. If you’re so interested in people’s minds, maybe study someone else.”
Chantelle smirked. “No thanks. I’m only interested in you, Ms. Stevens. Most people are just full of predictable, boring thoughts. But you’re different–your emotions swing between longing and restraint. You pretend not to care when you clearly do. Honestly, your contradictions, your layered psyche… they’re worth studying.”
Aspen was mortified and furious. Chantelle had bared her entire emotional state, and accurately, too. Nonetheless, she would never admit it, no matter what.
She gave a cold laugh and said, “Ms. Garcia, you’re delusional. That’s the only diagnosis I’d give you.”
Chantelle shrugged. “No rush. You already know I practice psychology. Being Mr. McCormick’s secretary is really just one part of my job. So anytime you’re ready, drop by my studio. I’ll help you see your own heart.”
Aspen cut her off. “No thanks!”
Andrew raised a brow. “Ms. Garcia, your specialty sounds like a mix of witchcraft and guesswork. So, how about this–tell me what’s going on in my head?”
Without missing a beat, Chantelle laughed and said, “You’re a brute who lives for violence. You manipulate your team, chase power, and love playing little games.”