Chapter 64

Chapter 64

Raymond was driving up front, with George in the passenger seat. George pulled out a card from his camouflage pants pocket and handed it to me in the back seat.

"Ms. Thorne, Mr. Smith asked me to give this to you. The password is his date of birth."

I stared at the all-black bank card, biting my lip, hesitating whether to take it.

So it seemed that my asking James for money yesterday...

But setting the password as his own date of birth—who knows when he was born?

Seeing that I hadn't taken the bank card, George worried he wouldn't be able to complete the important task James had assigned him. In his anxiety, he just stuffed the card into my hand.

"Ms. Thorne, Mr. Smith's date of birth is August 13, 1997."

Clearly, James had given him this mission: to make sure he gave me the bank card and told me his birthday.

With the bank card suddenly thrust into my hand, I clutched it and zoned out.

Twenty minutes later, the black sedan slowly drove through the gates of St. Westbridge University.

After the car stopped, I got out, and George and Raymond followed, staying close behind me.

With two burly men in camouflage and combat boots following behind me, passersby kept giving me strange looks. I felt extremely uncomfortable.

I looked around and spotted the sign for the registration desk.

I turned back to look at the two men behind me and said, "Could you guys not follow me?"

"Sorry, Ms. Thorne, Mr. Smith instructed us not to leave your side for a moment. We must ensure your safety," George replied.

Understanding that they had to follow James's orders as his subordinates, I compromised: "If you have to follow me, could you not stay so close? When you're this close, everyone stares at me weirdly, and I'm really not used to it."

George and Raymond exchanged glances, thought for a moment, then agreed to my request.

"Then don't walk too fast, Ms. Thorne. We'll follow from behind."

I nodded and headed toward the registration desk.

At the registration desk, I handed over my documents.

After checking them, the staff member said, "You're still missing your tuition payment receipt."

"I..." I bit my lip and said, "I haven't paid the tuition yet. Can I pay on-site?"

"Yes, you can." The teacher smiled at me and pointed ahead. "The finance office is 150 feet ahead. Just go there, swipe your card, and bring the payment receipt back to me."

I pressed my lips together and said, "Thank you."

With that, I headed toward the finance office.

After much hesitation, I finally handed over the black card.

Facing that hefty tuition fee, I hesitated for a long time before entering the password.

Seeing that I wasn't moving, the finance office staff reminded me, "You can enter your password now."

Only then did I snap back to reality. "Oh, okay."

I took a deep breath and entered the password on the POS machine.

After completing the enrollment procedures, I had already left the registration desk, but after just a few steps, I turned back.

"I learned that St. Westbridge University provides dormitories for international students," I said. "Can I arrange for accommodation?"

The teacher nodded with a smile. "Yes, you just need to pay the accommodation fee."

After leaving the registration desk, George and Raymond immediately caught up.

George asked, "Ms. Thorne, is everything done?"

I nodded.

"Then let's head back."

I said, "I need to use the restroom."

George and Raymond nodded. "Okay, we'll wait here for you."

I stuffed the black card into my bag, turned around, and walked toward the restroom.

James's POV

One day earlier, late at night.

At the edge of the Northern Territory, in Sovereign City.

In the narrow alley, wounded men lay scattered everywhere. The air was thick with a nauseating smell of blood, so strong it seemed almost tangible.

Wearing an assault jacket and combat boots, I slowly walked through this long alley filled with pain and the stench of death, my gaze sweeping over those blood-soaked mercenaries.

David walked beside me, reporting in a low voice: "This mission was harder than expected, extremely intense. Of the mercenaries we sent out, only three-quarters made it back alive. Most are seriously injured and won't be able to take on missions anytime soon. They'll need a good long rest."

The camp was hidden deep in dense jungle, surrounded by layers of shrubs. It never saw sunlight year-round, and the damp air gave off an oppressive, gloomy feeling.

I listened to David's report while walking steadily forward.

Some of the wounded sitting nearby had fallen asleep from exhaustion and pain, while others forced themselves to stay awake.

Those who were awake nodded respectfully as I passed by: "Mr. Smith."

I nodded slightly in response.

David suddenly seemed to remember something and blurted out: "Mr. Smith, I was thinking of giving an extra ten percent of this mission's payment to the families of the mercenaries who didn't make it back."

After speaking, he stopped, waiting for my instruction.

I kept walking without stopping and said, "You're the commanding officer here. You can make these decisions yourself."

David responded, "Yes, Mr. Smith."

He then called over a subordinate nearby, gave a few instructions, and quickly caught up with me again.

After each mission, the mercenary unit conducts a thorough review.

And I, as the owner of this private mercenary force, receive David's report after each review.

Since this mercenary unit was established, it has carried out countless dangerous missions, but casualties this severe were rare.

So after receiving David's message, I came personally to check on the wounded.

After handling everything, I gave a few brief instructions, got in the car, and said concisely, "Drive."

The driver started the car and asked, "Mr. Smith, where to now?"

With my eyes half-closed, I lightly rubbed my fingers and replied, "Back to Phoenix City."

The driver wanted to remind me it was too late and suggest staying at a hotel for the night, but seeing my poor mood, he swallowed his words.

He pressed the gas pedal, and the car sped toward Phoenix City.

He said with concern, "Mr. Smith, it'll take at least three and a half hours to get back to Phoenix City from here. You can rest in the car first."

Sitting in the back seat, I felt restless and smoked several cigarettes in a row.

Ash scattered everywhere, and the car filled with smoke.

Looking at those injured mercenaries, I fell into thought. Was the path I had chosen really the right one?

After a while, I tossed the cigarette butt out the window.

Three hours later, as dawn broke, the sedan entered Phoenix City.

In about half an hour, we'd arrive at The Smith Manor.

I opened my eyes, took out my phone, and called Sophia using my private number.

Sophia received my call at five in the morning.

I asked directly, "Is she asleep?"

Sophia was stunned for two seconds before realizing I was asking about Ella.

She quickly straightened up, trying to stay alert, and said, "Ms. Thorne has gone to bed."

At this hour, Ella must have been asleep long ago.

I asked again, "Is she sleeping well?"

Sophia hesitated.

"She should be sleeping..." She carefully chose her words, "pretty well."

"Which room is she sleeping in?"

Sophia frowned and answered honestly, "Ms. Thorne... is sleeping in Alexander's room."

My eyebrow raised, feeling somewhat displeased.

Sophia seemed to sense my mood change and quickly explained, "Alexander kept pestering Ms. Thorne to tell him stories. While telling stories, Ms. Thorne probably got too tired and fell asleep with Alexander on the sofa in his room. I saw they were sleeping soundly, so I didn't wake them."

I snorted coldly. Ella, you really have some nerve.

When I'm not home, you go to sleep with another man.

If it weren't Alexander, I'd tear him to pieces.

"I see," I replied flatly.

After saying that, I didn't hang up. Instead, I pulled out another cigarette from the pack, put it in my mouth, and lightly rubbed the lighter with my fingers.