CHAPTER 74: CHAPTER 74: I GAVE YOU A CHANCE

The shrill ring of a cellphone suddenly cut through the peaceful silence by the sea.

Aiden Fordham frowned, glanced at the caller ID, and rejected the call. But just a few seconds later, the ringtone persisted stubbornly.

He finally picked up.

"Speak!"

After just a few moments, his expression darkened dramatically.

"How did this happen? What the hell have you all been doing? Useless idiots!"

"I’m coming over right now!"

He slammed the phone down, unable to conceal the irritation and anger between his brows.

He looked toward Stella Grant, apology and conflict flickering in his eyes.

Stella understood.

Corinne Kensington—again!

This woman always had a way to call him away from her, any time, any place, with just one phone call.

What am I, really? Perpetually the backup option? Plan B?

She curled her lips, her voice cold and even: "Aiden Fordham, didn’t you have something to say to me?"

"I’ll give you the chance. Say it now."

But he seemed agitated, restless. "Something urgent just came up, I have to go right away."

"Stella, I’m sorry," he said quickly, "I’ll have the driver take you home first. Tomorrow—tomorrow, I promise I’ll come see you."

Finished, he turned and started for the roadside.

Just as he turned, Stella reached out and grabbed the hem of his coat.

Her fingers were icy, trembling just a little; when she lifted her gaze, those glimmering eyes reflected the distant lights.

"Aiden Fordham." Her voice was soft, carrying a desperate, vulnerable plea. "Can you not go?"

It was her first time making an explicit request of him like this.

Honestly, she was perfectly clearheaded! She just... wanted, for once, to at least try—to see if she could make him stay. The one, only time in her life she’d ask!

Aiden Fordham’s feet halted—so did his heartbeat. He didn’t dare look back.

"Aiden Fordham, can you not go?"

She asked again.

Right now, she was utterly awake; she knew exactly what it was she was about to lose.

But it seemed she still had to try.

"I’m sorry," he said softly, then turned away.

He didn’t look back; he only called toward the direction the driver had left: "Old Lou! Take Mrs. Fordham home!"

"Yes, young master." Old Lou answered, quickly running over from the grove and pulling open the back car door.

Aiden Fordham walked to the roadside and waved to someone in the distance.

A black sedan glided quietly to a stop before him.

The bodyguard stepped out and opened the door for him.

He ducked in, and the door shut with a bang.

Through the rearview mirror, he saw that slender figure still stubbornly standing in the sea breeze, leaning on the car door.

Smaller and smaller, blurrier and blurrier, until she was just a tiny dot.

The car sped off into the dark.

The sea wind dried the tears at the corners of Stella Grant’s eyes.

She stood there for a long, long time, murmuring to herself, "Aiden Fordham, I gave you a chance..."

"I really did, but... you didn’t want it!"

She gave a faint smile, slowly raised her head, and shut her eyes.

A scalding tear slid down her cheek and splashed onto the cold car body.

The heart that once beat wildly for him now shattered like glass, falling to pieces.

...

Aiden Fordham pushed open the villa’s front door.

The living room was a mess.

Shattered glass, overturned chairs, fragments of decorations scattered everywhere.

The air was heavy with dust and tension.

He hurried upstairs, turning the knob to Corinne’s room.

Corinne Kensington crouched in the corner, a thin blanket around her shoulders, still trembling noticeably.

She looked up, saw him, and as if grabbing a lifeline, flung herself toward him, clinging tightly to his waist.

She broke down in tears, her voice fraught with terror.

"Aiden..."

"I can’t stay here alone. H-heh... I’m so scared... Those bad men found me."

Her whole body shook even harder.

"Can I... come to your villa?"

Aiden Fordham stiffened, gazing down at the woman in his arms.

"Where are the people sent to protect you?"

His voice was unreadable.

"Th-they... they all got taken..."

Corinne Kensington was nearly hysterical with sobs.

"They suddenly busted in, so many of them... I only managed to hide in the wardrobe—"

Her words broke off, her fear unmistakable.

Aiden Fordham surveyed the room: window glass shattered, curtains half-ripped down.

This didn’t look like some minor incident. He didn’t ask for details—no point now.

"Let’s go."

He helped her up, holding her arm to lift her from the floor.

Corinne Kensington practically hung off him as she trailed him down the stairs, leaving behind this house full of terror.

The next morning.

Dawn crept softly across the sky.

Stella Grant sat at the dining table, a cup of cold coffee and a tablet before her.

Her finger slid unconsciously across the screen.

[Best Actress Kensington Spends the Night at President Fordham’s Villa—Nowhere to be Seen Till Morning]

The huge black headline dominated the entertainment section.

The attached photo was a somewhat blurry side profile.

In the photo, Aiden Fordham’s tall figure had an arm around a petite woman as they entered the tightly-secured gate of his private villa.

The woman’s face, in profile—it was Corinne Kensington.

Stella Grant stared at the photo for several seconds.

Then, with a flick of her finger, she swiped to the finance news section.

Ha!

Once your heart is dead, immunity really does improve.

She picked up her coffee, took a sip. The bitter taste slid down her throat—nothing special anymore.

She shut off the tablet, got up to change; there was an important business meeting today.

As if nothing had happened.

Midday, Southside Business Club.

Elegant, quiet, the air full of mingled coffee and cigars.

The Lockwood Group was already overcrowded, so some clients had been moved here.

Stella Grant sat on one side of the long table, documents arranged before her.

Across sat an oily middle-aged man, beer belly bulging—the representative for Scott Pharmaceuticals, surname Zhang.

President Scott was clearly unhappy with how the negotiations were going.

He drummed his fingers on the papers, voice rising in pitch.

"Miss Grant, all our qualifications at Scott Pharmaceuticals are right here on the table! Every index fully meets God N’s standards!"

He leaned forward, trying to intimidate her by sheer force of presence.

"You’re just a little girl—who are you to say we can’t pass review?"

"Do you understand tech? Do you know anything about developing new pharmaceuticals, huh?"

He didn’t bother to hide the sneer in his tone, dripping with the arrogance of a seasoned scoundrel.

"Don’t think because President Lockwood sent you, you can push us around!"

Stella Grant ignored his disdainful face.

Her gaze stayed on the data, voice flat as if she were reading out instructions.

"President Scott. The new drug you submitted—’Raybola.’"

She tapped the name highlighted on the document.

"Its core patent was acquired, at a bargain, about ten years ago from a bankrupt Katz Company, wasn’t it?"

The smugness froze on President Scott’s face.

Stella Grant went on.

"You should know better than I do why Katz Company went bankrupt back then. The core technology reached a bottleneck, and side effects discovered in clinical trials were never resolved."

"It’s been ten years. Has Scott Pharmaceuticals overcome those technical challenges?"

She looked up at him.

President Scott’s face turned nasty. "What nonsense are you talking about!"

Stella Grant ignored his objection and settled into a more relaxed posture.

"Also, last month, your company held a small promotional event at Westside University Town. Thirty thousand invested, under five thousand reached, a conversion rate of less than one percent."

"Frankly, President Scott, your company’s marketing execution is concerning."

She leaned forward ever-so-slightly, voice not loud, but every word crystal clear.

"God N’s new project requires strong R&D capabilities and market control."

"So tell me, on what grounds do you think Scott Pharmaceuticals has a real chance at winning the Borrin City agency contract?"

President Scott’s face turned completely purple with rage.

To be stripped bare like this by a young woman, in front of his own team—

This was more humiliating than a slap in the face!

He shot to his feet, his bulk making the table shudder with a dull thud.

"Who the fuck are you calling ’concerning’!"

He jabbed his finger at Stella Grant, spit flying everywhere.

"Little bitch! You think you’re tough? Let me teach you what respect means today!"

As he spoke, his thick, greasy hand lunged for Stella Grant’s arm.

Stella instinctively tried to dodge.

But a stronger hand moved even faster, clamping around President Scott’s wrist like iron tongs—

"Crack."

A faint, crisp sound of bone out of joint!