Chapter 81: Helen Darden

Louis sidestepped and avoided her entirely.

Angelina lunged—and missed—stumbling hard as her ankle nearly twisted.

"This isn't a place you should be." Every word he spoke cut through the air, and his gaze erased any trace of what they once shared.

Angelina’s expression stiffened, unease flickering in her eyes as she looked beyond Louis—straight at Elisa standing beside the Maybach.

Elisa remained off to the side, silent and composed., not bothering to look at her.

Being ignored like that really pissed her off.

"Louis, Mrs. York told me to come to the translation center to learn." Angelina bit her lower lip, putting on a perfectly wounded, indignant look. "Mr. McCall might have misunderstood me yesterday. I came today to apologize. Could you help me speak to Mr. McCall."

"Leandro doesn't take instructions from me." Louis cut her off and opened the car door. "Elisa, get in."

Without a word, Elisa leaned in and settled into the passenger side.

The door shut with a crisp thud.

Angelina didn’t move, watching the black Maybach disappear, her nails digging into her skin as tension coiled inside her.

Couldn't even Odette make it work? Impossible!

Angelina didn't believe it.

She turned and walked toward the translation center entrance. The guard stopped her once, but after she mentioned Odette's name, the deputy director came down himself and let her through after a phone call.

Outside the third-floor encryption room.

Angelina knocked on the door.

Leandro was in his private office reviewing a correction chart for an ancient language. Hearing the knock, he looked up. Through the glass partition, he saw Angelina's carefully done makeup, and his brow furrowed at once.

"Godfather." Angelina pushed the door open, her voice soft and gentle. "I acted out yesterday. I'm sorry. I really do want to learn from you. Please give me one more chance, okay?"

Leandro set down the materials in his hand and leaned back in his chair, looking at her.

After a long moment, he raised his hand and pointed to the corner of the desk.

A scanned document lay there, with three lines having a mix of Zephyria and Valeria.

"Translate this."

Leandro said flatly.

Angelina's heart leaped with joy. She quickly walked to the desk and picked up the paper.

In the first line, she could barely make out two common Zephyria words. The Valeria variant in the second line left her completely lost. After staring at the third line for ten seconds, she didn't recognize a single word.

Sweat beaded on Angelina's forehead.

"Alright, you can go now."

Leandro didn't have the patience to waste on her.

If you don't know it, you don't know it.

"Godfather, this is highly classified material from the center. I haven't had access to it before, so of course I can't understand it." Angelina grabbed for an excuse. "Give me time, and I'll learn--"

"Learn?" Leandro cut in coldly. "You spent three years abroad studying fashion design. Your foundation in linguistics is basically nonexistent. Elisa started teaching herself six obscure writing systems at sixteen and won the national interpreting championship at twenty. How long do you think it would take you to close that gap?"

The office fell silent for a few seconds.

Angelina's lips trembled twice before she finally managed, "I can start from scratch."

"Start from scratch? Go sign up for a course somewhere else." Leandro walked to the door and pulled it open. "The translation center isn't a training school. Get out."

The Maybach drove along the main ring road.

The car was quiet. Elisa leaned back in her seat, scrolling through tomorrow's work schedule that Leandro had sent to her phone.

"Your grandmother, Helen Darden." Louis suddenly spoke.

Elisa’s hands went still mid-motion, the pause sudden and absolute.

She turned to look at Louis with a questioning glance.

"Everyone who's been in the industry for a while knows." Louis kept one hand on the steering wheel, his eyes on the traffic ahead. "Helen was a legendary figure in Luminary College's foreign language department forty years ago. Fluent in nine languages, she was among the first group of experts in the country to participate in UN document translation."

Elisa fell silent.

Any thought of Curtis, her biological father, brought nothing but a quiet sense of repulsion. But she knew very little about her grandmother Helen, whom she'd never met.

"Your grandfather, David Roberts, and Helen built the Roberts family's foundation together." Louis continued. "The Roberts Group didn't start with real estate. It was cross-border translation services, built on Helen's industry connections. Later, after David died and your father took over, he cut the translation division entirely and switched to real estate speculation. He nearly burned through a perfectly good family fortune."

"With Jason now at the helm, things are finally stabilizing at Roberts. Despite being Mandy’s son, he’s proven level-headed enough to contain the damage."

Elisa looked down, saying nothing.

It made sense now—when Leandro first saw her, surprise flickered across his face, softened by something almost reminiscent.

"Mr. McCall knew my grandmother?"

"More than knew her." Louis glanced at her. "The three of them were classmates with Helen at Luminary College back then. Your grandmother was recognized as the genius of their class. Even Leandro once said that if she were still alive, he wouldn't be the head of the translation center."

Elisa paused mid-breath, her rhythm faltering for just a moment.

So that word "friend" referred to her own grandmother!

So Leandro's stubbornness and determination when he took her as his student weren't just because of her talent, but also because he saw the shadow of an old friend in her.

By the following day, Louis was tied up with work, so Elisa was sent off with only the driver.

As soon as she got out of the car, she saw someone squatting by the flower bed across the street.

A faded old jacket, right hand wrapped in thick plaster bandages, left hand holding a cheap cigarette.

Leon!

Elisa's expression changed. She immediately turned to leave.

"Stop!" Leon dropped the cigarette, crushed it underfoot, then hurried over in his slippers, lifting his uninjured left arm to stop her.

"Elisa, you're really something! You had someone break your uncle's hand, and now you're just ignoring it?"

Elisa took a step back.

"Move."

"Move? Give me the money, and I'll move!" Leon's spit flecked her face. "Five hundred thousand dollars! Not a penny less! If you don't pay, tomorrow, I’ll put everything online—how you turned your back on the family that raised you, all for money."

Elisa looked at him with a cold expression.

"Post whatever you want."

"You... "

Leon’s eyes flared as he reached out with his left hand, trying to catch hold of Elisa’s arm.

But before Leon could act, someone seized his left wrist from behind and held it fast, leaving him unable to break free.

A tall man stepped out from the side. Buzz cut, black stand-collar jacket.

Leon shuddered.

The man facing Leon held his gaze with an unsettling calm, the kind often seen in those who’ve witnessed violence firsthand.

Rolf Tackett released his grip.

"From now on, you're not allowed within 20 feet of Ms. Roberts." Rolf stepped back, hands behind his back. Take this as your first warning. If it happens again, the other hand won’t come out unscathed."

"You!"

Leon shrank under Rolf's gaze. He shot Elisa a fierce look. “This isn’t over."