Chapter 123 The Truth Behind the Rumors
Dorian definitely knew about the Johnson Group.
A multinational conglomerate with divisions in electronics, finance, engineering, and chemical industries—arguably the most prestigious corporation in all of Celestria, valued in the hundreds of billions. Eric, she had seen online before. He was, in fact, the special assistant to Michael, the CEO and majority shareholder of the Johnson Group.
Rumor had it that the CEO was disabled, so Eric often attended events in his place.
When she saw the friend request and the attached message, Dorian's first thought was that she had just run into a scammer. The kind of scam that starts with some polite excuse to add you as a friend, then slowly builds rapport before asking for money.
But who in their right mind would be so committed to the con that they'd send a friend request at two in the morning? And how could a scammer possibly know about the Pretty Boy Café project—a plan they had only come up with earlier that day?
It was absurd.
She took a deep breath and accepted the request, sending a cautious message: [Hello?]
The reply came instantly: [Hello. Mr. Johnson mentioned that your team's timeline is tight, so I'm reaching out late at night to avoid delays.]
Before she could respond, another message arrived—along with a file.
[Miss, Mr. Johnson said you lack experience, so I've prepared a full event proposal for you.]
[You can follow this plan for your preparations—it will save you a great deal of time.]
[The project budget should be under one million dollars, but per Mr. Johnson's instructions, the Johnson Group will sponsor ten million dollars.]
[Mr. Johnson also said that all proceeds from your event will be donated to children in remote mountain areas. The remaining sponsorship funds can be donated as well. I can discuss the details with you later.]
[Please review the proposal. If you have any questions, reach out to me.]
The tone, the speed, the file… This was no scammer.
Now wide awake, Dorian opened the document—and her jaw dropped.
It was flawless. Every detail was there: the event's time, location, background, and purpose; the preparations; the layout of the venue; lists of equipment and props; estimated costs; staffing plans; even where the sponsor's advertisements would be placed.
It was like walking into an exam for a subject you've never studied, only to have an expert hand you the answer key.
She still couldn't wrap her head around it. How had a high school fair project caught the attention of the Johnson Group? And why would their high-profile executive assistant—who earned over five million dollars a year—spend the night crafting a perfect proposal for her?
She typed: [May I ask why you reached out to me? Where did Mr. Johnson hear about our project?]
The reply was almost immediate.
[Mr. Johnson heard about it from Ms. Amelia Martinez.]
[He didn't want Ms. Martinez to spend unnecessary effort on this, so he asked me to prepare the proposal to save your team time.]
[If there's nothing else, I'll rest now. Contact me anytime if you have questions.]
Amelia? Amelia knew the CEO of the Johnson Group? And from the sound of it, the CEO cared about her—a lot.
Dorian's eyes lit up like she'd stumbled onto a scandalous secret.
Meanwhile, Amelia slept peacefully.
Being wrapped in Michael's arms always made her sleep deeper than she ever did alone.
When she woke, she found her phone—muted overnight—flooded with messages from Dorian. Dozens of them, sent between two and three in the morning.
At first, Dorian had been talking about the project—how Eric had added her at two a.m., sent her a fully detailed proposal, and promised ten million dollars in sponsorship. But soon the messages shifted into rapid-fire questions: How did Amelia know the Johnson Group's CEO? Why would he give that much money just because she mentioned it? What was their relationship? Had she ever met him in person? Was he really as ugly and disfigured as the internet claimed?
Gossip was, as always, a force of nature. Dorian could barely stay awake when doing actual work, but when it came to juicy secrets, she could go all night without sleep.
Amelia knew exactly what the internet said about Michael.
He was notoriously private, avoiding cameras and public appearances. He had never given an interview. After his legs were injured years ago, Eric had represented him at nearly all events.
People knew about the car accident from a decade ago, and when they realized this young business titan never appeared in public, they assumed the worst—that he wasn't just disabled, but also disfigured.
Exactly what Dorian had repeated: ugly and broken.
Seeing Dorian's urgent tone, Amelia snapped a photo of Michael's sleeping profile beside her and sent it.
The night owl, who had been awake at three in the morning, replied instantly at seven.
[Who is this guy?]
[He's gorgeous! Like… movie-star gorgeous!]
[Is he a foreign celebrity? Send me his Instagram!]
Michael was still asleep.
He lay on his side, hair slightly tousled across his forehead. His features were sharp, striking—deep-set eyes beneath long lashes, a straight nose, lips relaxed in sleep. Without the commanding presence he carried when awake, there was a quiet softness to him.
A few seconds later, Dorian seemed to realize something.
[Wait… you wouldn't just randomly send me a photo this early in the morning.]
[Did you just take this picture?]
[Fuck! Are you telling me you're in bed with this guy right now?]
[So… you're dating him?]
[Come on, who is he?!]
Amelia replied: [You wanted to know what Michael looks like. All those rumors about him are false. And he climbed into my room last night—don't tell Tobias, or he'll have my window sealed shut. Keep it between us.]