Chapter 237
William looked at me with complicated eyes.
He probably guessed what I was thinking. He didn't say anything more, just reached out and took the champagne glass I'd barely touched from my hand, placing it on a passing waiter's tray.
"There's nothing worth staying for here," his voice returned to its usual calm, though the coldness in his eyes hadn't faded, "Some people have made this place unbearable. Let's go, we'll regroup and plan."
I nodded, feeling exhausted too. Every second in this place felt suffocating.
"Okay..."
Before I could finish, we had just turned around, ready to head for the exit when a figure blocked our way.
It was Atticus.
I don't know when he'd walked over, holding a drink, his face showed no particular expression, just standing there blocking our path.
I frowned, looking at him.
I had no good impression of this friend of George's.
Last time at the restaurant, he and Terry played off each other, and I hadn't forgotten those words.
Just now, though he hadn't jumped out like Terry, his attitude of standing aside and watching the show was cold enough.
There was no way I could be friendly toward him.
"Mr. Morgan, can we help you?" I said, my tone distant.
Atticus's gaze lingered on my face for two seconds, the look somewhat deep, as if examining something, or confirming something.
Then he turned to William and pulled his lips into what passed for a greeting.
"Mr. Jones," he began, his voice neither loud nor soft, "last time, you turned down my invitation to collaborate on the smart city data interface."
William raised an eyebrow slightly but didn't respond.
Atticus didn't mind and continued, "This time, I've brought a revised proposal and came in person to talk with you again."
He swirled his glass, the ice cubes making soft clinking sounds, "Can you spare a few minutes?"
William and I exchanged glances, both seeing doubt and wariness in each other's eyes.
What was Atticus doing?
When Louis was humiliating me earlier, he'd been standing not far away, seeing everything clearly.
Now that Louis had left with George and Sarah, he was coming over to talk business?
And that collaboration he mentioned—last time it was him who'd been arrogant, kept us waiting in the conference room for hours, then dismissed us. How did it become William rejecting him in his version?
William's face showed no expression, his tone indifferent, "If I remember correctly, last time you clearly stated you weren't interested in our proposal and asked us to leave your company. What, did you forget?"
Atticus, called out like this by William, showed no embarrassment on his face.
He took a sip of his drink, his tone frank, "There were some misunderstandings last time. I did listen to some superficial talk and said some inappropriate things."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over me again, this time staying even shorter, so quick it almost seemed like an illusion.
"But I meant no harm. This time, I've actually looked at several of Star Tech's recent cases, especially that node system for the Aviation Administration. I think there's real room for collaboration between us, so I came with genuine intentions."
Genuine intentions?
I almost laughed out loud.
Where were his genuine intentions when Louis was pointing at my nose and insulting me?
Now that he'd seen us break with Louis, maybe he thought we had some backbone, weren't easy to completely crush, so he was coming over again?
William clearly didn't believe it either.
A meaningful smile curved his lips as he said coldly, "Mr. Morgan, what bad timing. We have things to do today, no time for a detailed discussion. Let's talk about collaboration another time."
His words were polite, but the rejection was crystal clear.
The smile on Atticus's face faded a bit. He looked at William, then at me, as if trying to read something from our faces.
Atticus's reaction surprised me.
After being rejected like that by William, he didn't get angry, and that smile at the corner of his mouth didn't even fade.
He held up his glass and extended it forward, the rim lightly touching William's glass.
"Alright then, I'll wait for next time. Hope you won't make me wait too long."
William didn't respond and didn't clink glasses.
Atticus didn't mind. He withdrew his hand, nodded at us, and turned to leave.
His figure was quickly swallowed by the crowd, leaving only that unfinished glass of red wine, which left a faint ring on the table after he left.
Once he was gone, William let out a cold laugh and complained to me in a low voice, "Is this guy messing with me? Does he really think I forgot about him ignoring us for over two hours in that conference room last time?"
I pulled my lips into a smile with no real humor, "Someone who calls Terry a friend—how good can his character be?"
"But the Morgan family's resources and connections are things we need. Let's not close that door completely. Let's see what he's really after."
"As long as it's not illegal and doesn't cross our bottom line, if there's money to be made, we can try it."
William turned to look at me, a complex emotion in his eyes.
He understood.
He knew I was weighing things, holding back, not wanting personal emotions and grudges to affect the company's future and current projects.
Just because things fell through with Louis didn't mean all doors had to close.
In business, more friends mean more opportunities. Even with people you've had friction with before, as long as there's profit to be made, you can sit down at the same table again.
He was silent for a few seconds, then nodded, took a sip of his drink, and said flatly, "We'll see."
The event continued, the atmosphere building to a small climax.
The organizers' leaders took the stage to speak, then invited representatives from several major sponsors to say a few words.
George was naturally among them.
When his name was called, the crowd automatically parted to make way.
He walked up, his pace unhurried, still wearing that unapproachable look.
His suit was impeccable, his expression indifferent. Standing under the spotlight, he said a few polite words.
The gist was thanking the government for providing the platform, saying the Smith Group would continue to support industrial upgrading.
Standard, nothing out of line, and no warmth either.
Thunderous applause erupted below, mixed with flattering whispers.
"Mr. Smith spoke so well!"
"The Smith Group is really supporting this project strongly."
"I heard Mr. Smith's fiancée's company is also involved? What a perfect couple."
William and I stood at the edge of the crowd, watching all this coldly.
He stood up there, paving the way for another woman, while I stood below, bearing the humiliation he'd indirectly brought.
William leaned close to me, his warm breath brushing my ear, his voice very low, "Let's go, nothing worth watching here."
I nodded, the suffocating feeling in my chest getting stronger, "Okay."
I needed some air. I told William I was going to the restroom.
I turned and headed toward the restroom.
The hallway was covered in thick carpet, footsteps falling silently on it.
The lighting was somewhat dim, the air filled with faint aromatherapy and the essence of alcohol.
My mind was a bit chaotic—Louis's mean face, Sarah's smug eyes, George's indifferent glance, and those vague looks from people around...
Like scenes flashing before my eyes.
Just as I reached the women's restroom entrance, someone rushed out from around the corner—a server carrying a tray with several empty wine glasses and leftover snacks.
He probably didn't expect anyone to be there. Unable to dodge in time, he crashed straight into me.
"I'm so sorry, so sorry!" The server apologized repeatedly. The things on his tray shook, and a plate with brown sauce slid off and spilled onto my skirt.
On the light beige silk skirt, a small stain immediately spread, not large, but particularly glaring on the elegant dress.
I looked down and frowned.
"I'm really sorry, I..." The server panicked, his face turning red.
"It's fine," I waved my hand, not wanting to make things difficult for him, "Go on with your work."
William followed over. Seeing the stain on my skirt, his brow immediately furrowed, "What happened?"
"Accidentally got something on it." I pointed at the stain, "I need to change."
Without a word, William took me to the temporary changing room provided by the venue.
Fortunately, I was in the habit of keeping a spare outfit in the car, just in case.
But after changing, I realized the problem.
This dress was one I'd bought years ago, back when I was still with the Smith family, occasionally attending events, wearing mostly conservative styles.
I'd barely worn this slip dress after buying it. In my rush today, I didn't think much and just put it on.
Now standing in front of the mirror, I realized how revealing it was.
Thin straps, a slightly low neckline, tight at the waist, outlining obvious curves.
It would be fine to wear privately, but at this kind of formal occasion, especially after just going through all that mess, it seemed a bit too deliberate.