Chapter 16

After getting separated from her family at the age of five, Shermaine ended up in a place called Maple Leaf Ville. It wasn’t a big place—barely more than a dozen households.

The villagers treated her, an orphan who had wandered in from nowhere, with nothing but kindness. They helped her get documented, made sure she had food, clothing, a roof over her head, and even supported her through school in the nearby town.

They had done so much for her, and she was someone who never forgot a debt.

The high-tech farm project was the first gift Shermaine had in mind for them after returning to the country. It was her way of giving back, after seeing how hard life had become for them—how they were barely getting by anymore.

However, the total cost of building the farm hovered around 100 million dollars. It wasn’t exactly astronomical. But the thing was, Shermaine had no concept of money.

Back when she was studying abroad, she never thought about how much she could earn through her abilities. As long as she had enough to cover her daily expenses, that was good enough for her, which meant she basically had no savings to her name.

2.3 million dollars—while nowhere near enough for the full project—was more than enough to build a few small villas for the villagers and give their living conditions a solid upgrade.

Shermaine opened the laptop on the desk and transferred the full 2.3 million to the Maple Leaf Ville mayor, Jay Gill. She left herself a backup fund of three thousand dollars—just enough for emergencies.

Once that was done, Shermaine caught a lingering scent of blood on her and grabbed a bottle and a glass before heading to the bathroom.

Lying in the tub, she poured herself a drink. One sip in, the liquor burned its way down her throat, the hit sharp and intense. ‘Damn, that’s good stuff,’ she thought.

She didn’t drink much. Once the water turned cold, Shermaine got up, dried off with a towel, and slipped into a silk nightgown.

Her hair was still wrapped in a white towel as she looked around the bathroom for a hairdryer.

After searching for a while and finding nothing, she stepped out, planning to ask Mariam. But when she called for her, there was no response from downstairs. Shermaine figured she might as well give up.

Just then, the door across the hall opened. A light, clean scent drifted out—Joshua had just showered too.

Shermaine froze for a beat. “Didn’t you say you weren’t staying here?”

Joshua said, “My grandfather checked in on me. It got late, so I didn’t leave.”

“Okay.”

“If it bothers you, I can go now.”

“No need. I just need to borrow something.”

Right now, Joshua was wearing a dark blue silk pajama set, the collar left partly unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of his chest and a black tattoo beneath.

His hair was damp, beads of water dripping down and tracing the sharp lines of his neck, sliding past his Adam’s apple.

His sensual lips were pressed into a thin line, and his eyes were calm, deep, unreadable.

“Go ahead,” Joshua said.

Shermaine narrowed her eyes slightly, gave him a once-over, then quickly shifted her gaze. “There’s no hairdryer in my room.”

“Hold on.” Joshua turned around and came back a moment later with a hairdryer in hand. “Just leave it in your room when you’re done.”

“You don’t need it?”

“No.”

Since that was the case, Shermaine happily accepted it. When she took the dryer, her hand brushed against his. His hand was cool, but her fingertips felt strangely hot. She asked, “Did your grandfather say anything?”

Joshua kept it brief. “Nothing. It’s taken care of.”

Shermaine was someone who cared a lot about boundaries. “I’ll be more mindful of the time next time.”

“Alright.” Joshua nodded.

Right then, Shermaine remembered the Rémy Martin Louis XIII Joshua had recommended. “The liquor’s really good. I love it,” she remarked.

Joshua gave a faint smile, but said nothing.

Back in her room, she let out a small sigh, thinking, ‘He’s so cold and distant.’ She finished drying her hair, quickly put the hairdryer away, then opened her laptop and typed in a URL with one hand.

The site was called the International Tech Forum. It covered everything from information tech and biotech to energy and laser technologies.

It was a platform where people posted problems they needed help solving in those areas and they’d post tasks there. Users who felt qualified could pick up tasks based on the level of difficulty and earn some extra cash.

Back when Shermaine didn’t have money for living expenses, she used to take on low-difficulty jobs from the site. They were easy, didn’t take much time, and came with a decent payout.

The login page popped up. Shermaine typed in her username—Boa Hanks—then her password, and hit enter.

The account had been active for two years. Her task history was filled entirely with D-level jobs, the lowest in terms of difficulty.

But right now, she was scrolling through the SSS-level listings.

Chapter 17