Chapter 69 He Stands Behind Her
"We've got Jessa's debut all mapped out. She'll go on 'Let's Sing Together' first, and the album will drop afterward" Lyle said, his tone confident but expectant.
Through the grainy video call, Lyle's gaze held steady on Elizabeth, waiting for her decision.
He wasn't just a consultant—she'd hired him to run Quin Agency, to shape its future.
Elizabeth didn't answer immediately. She opened another browser tab, fingers moving quickly as she searched for the show.
'Let's Sing Together' wasn't some small-time gig—it paired contestants with A-list celebrities for duets, the kind that went viral overnight.
The last few episodes had been trending, pulling in millions of views. If a newcomer had real talent, it could turn them into a household name in days.
She clicked away from the show's page and pulled up Sherry's official announcements. Her brows lifted slightly. Sherry was going to be on the program too.
"You've got a way in?" Elizabeth asked, her voice calm but carrying a thread of challenge. "You need a slot to even get on."
The corner of Lyle's mouth ticked upward. He knew that question meant she was on board. "I know the show's director. Getting a slot for one episode isn't a problem," he said, his tone steady, assured.
"Good. It's yours to handle."
They moved on to broader plans for the company. In this industry, an agency lived or died by the talent it could develop. Without artists who could rise, there was no future.
"For now, check out this year's graduates from the film academy," Elizabeth said after a pause. "We need to build momentum fast. Jessa is our first step."
The chime of the doorbell cut through the conversation.
"Hold on," Elizabeth said, closing her laptop halfway before heading for the door.
Outside stood two of her security staff, carrying in the new sofa.
"Thanks," she said, stepping aside to let them maneuver the furniture inside. The old sofa was lifted out almost as quickly as the new one slid into place.
Timothy's awareness of her life was uncanny. The moment the sofa was set down, her phone buzzed with his message: [Elizabeth, did you cover your face with a mask?]
Her reply was straight-faced: [No. I spilled red wine on the old sofa.]
The wine had covered the marks left by last night's intensity.
Timothy paused mid-sip of his coffee, then typed back: [How are you so clever?]
Elizabeth's lips curved in a small laugh, but she didn't respond further. If she kept going, she knew the exchange would spiral into endless teasing.
She returned to her bedroom, flipped her laptop open, and resumed the discussion with Lyle about Quin Agency's next moves.
When the call ended, she crossed the hall and knocked on Mabel's door. "Mabel, get up and eat."
A muffled, weary voice answered from inside. "Okay…"
Mabel rolled over, reaching for her phone on the nightstand. A notification caught her eye—an unfamiliar number.
It read: [Mabel, are you okay?]
She deleted it without hesitation. The message had jolted her fully awake.
Twenty minutes later, her door opened. She shuffled into the living room in pajamas, clutching a stuffed animal. "Elizabeth, what's for food? I'm exhausted."
"I made chicken soup. Drink it first—it'll warm you up."
Elizabeth set her phone down and headed into the kitchen. A few minutes later, she returned with a steaming bowl, the temperature just right.
Mabel settled onto the sofa, set her plush toy aside, and took the bowl. The broth was rich and savory, and she drank it down quickly.
"The sofa's new," she remarked, her tone teasing.
Elizabeth bent to pull a tissue from the coffee table and handed it to her. As she leaned forward, Mabel's gaze caught on the skin at Elizabeth's lower back.
The marks there were unmistakable—intimate, lingering.
"You shouldn't wear short tops for the next couple of days," Mabel said, her cheeks flushing. She looked away, then back again, curiosity tugging at her.
Elizabeth's hand brushed over her own lower back instinctively. She couldn't see it, but she knew exactly what had caused it. Last night had been… long.
She picked up her phone and sent Timothy a single line: [You're not coming over tonight.]
Timothy's eyes dropped to the screen. His long fingers tapped out an emoji in reply.
The intercom buzzed. "Ms. Penrose, there are three visitors downstairs. One woman says she's your mother. The other two are from the Howard family."
At Faith Residence, no one got in without registering at the front desk. The staff would call the resident to confirm.
Elizabeth's brows rose. Calista—who had loudly declared she wanted nothing to do with her—was here, and she'd brought members of the Howard family. That was… unusual.
"Not seeing them. I'm busy today."
She knew nothing good would come from their visit. Only a fool would open the door.
"Understood," the concierge said, hanging up before turning to relay the message. "Sorry, Ms. Penrose says she won't see you."
Calista's expression tightened. She glanced at her husband, Bruce Howard. "She won't see us. Let's go."
Bruce's jaw set. "We'll wait."
He turned back to the concierge, polite but firm. "Could you call her again? We really do have something important."
The staffer hesitated, then obliged.
"Ms. Penrose, they say they'll wait downstairs."
Calista suddenly took the phone herself. "Elizabeth, if you don't come down today, I'll be here every day."
Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand, smiling. "I wouldn't want anyone to say I lack hospitality."
She ended the call.
Calista hung up and told Bruce, "She'll be down."
Elizabeth's lips curved. She opened her delivery app and ordered three coffees to be sent to the lobby.
Her hospitality was impeccable—she'd even bought them drinks, enough to keep them waiting.
Mabel assumed Elizabeth was going to meet them and started to retreat to her room.
Elizabeth caught her arm, amused. "I'm not meeting them."
Downstairs, the coffees arrived. Ron took his cup, and comprehension dawned. "Dad, she's not coming."
Calista had married into the Howard family, giving birth to Ron and Natalia. By blood, Ron was Elizabeth's stepbrother.
Bruce's brows pulled together. "Let's go."
Later, Elizabeth's phone lit up with a message from Indigo: Calista and the others had left.
Elizabeth rested her chin in her hand, thoughtful. She was curious about what was happening with the Howards, but she didn't have the manpower to dig into it right now.
By evening, she decided to walk in the park. Mabel was too lazy to join her.
Elizabeth changed into workout clothes and headed down. The elevator opened onto the lobby, and she stepped outside with her hands in her pockets.
Timothy's car was parked at the curb. He got out as she approached. "I didn't come up—you came down."
They looked at each other, sharing a brief smile.
"I'm going for a walk," Elizabeth said, moving ahead. The sunset bathed her in warm light.
Timothy fell into step behind her, then closed the distance to walk beside her. "The Howard family came today because the supermarket's losing money."
Elizabeth nodded. "And?"
His smile was faint, edged with something colder. "You're worth ten billion dollars now. They haven't forgotten."
"So they came for money. And they think I'll help them?" Elizabeth lifted a slender finger, pointing at herself. "Do I look like a good Samaritan?"