Chapter 74

Wellington's POV

I didn't know if it was the blurry impressions from that chaotic night playing tricked on me, or if the person in front of me was simply wrong.

Kerena stands before me now, makeup perfect, eyes carrying a careful eagerness to please and anticipation.

But in my memory of that night, though the face was blurry, those eyes that occasionally opened in the haze didn't seem to have this kind of expression.

I hand the perfume bottle back to her without saying anything.

Two short car horn sounds come from outside—Hank has arrived.

I stand up, "Hank's here. I need to go."

Kerena quickly stands up too, "Won't you stay a bit longer? It's still early..."

As she speaks, she unconsciously reaches out again, trying to take my arm.

I frown, step aside to avoid her, and give her a warning glance.

Kerena's hand freezes in mid-air. She hurriedly pulls it back and lowers her head.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Learmond, I didn't mean to..."

"Just do what you're supposed to do." I drop this line, stop looking at her, grab my coat from the sofa, and stride toward the door.

Getting into the car, Hank immediately starts the engine.

The car smoothly pulls away from the villa, merging into the night.

I lean back in the rear seat, close my eyes, but the scent of that perfume still swirls in my mind.

Though that cheap perfume's scent is indeed seventy or eighty percent similar to what I remember.

But something still feels off. That lingering sense of wrongness doesn't just come from the perfume itself.

Maybe I'm overthinking? After months of fermentation, memory has become unreliable.

But what if it wasn't her?

"Hank." I open my eyes, looking toward the driver's seat.

"Mr. Learmond?" Hank glances at me in the rearview mirror.

"Check the surveillance footage from the top floor of that hotel four months ago again. Look carefully—see if there are any previously overlooked details, or anyone who shouldn't have been there."

A flash of surprise crosses Hank's eyes, but he immediately nods, "Yes, Mr. Learmond. I'll handle it personally."

I lean back in the seat again, fingers unconsciously tapping my knee.

After a moment, another matter comes to mind, "Any news from Los Angeles?"

"Mr. Chase Saunders has indeed formally sent out invitations. Next Friday, he's hosting a charity gala in Beverly Hills, inviting celebrities from both coasts. We're on the list too."

Hank reports.

"Apparently, because the mining project Caspian negotiated in Mexico this time is quite large, Mr. Chase Saunders wants to smooth things over in advance and ease relations, so no one will sabotage his son at a critical moment. After all, Mr. Caspian Saunders has made quite a few enemies over the years."

I let out a cold laugh, "Caspian acts recklessly and makes enemies everywhere—does he think one gala can fix everything? If he has time for this, he should think about how to deal with the case the prosecutor has on him."

Though Caspian's case has been temporarily stalled due to the absence of a key witness, the prosecution has plenty of other evidence.

His father, Chase Saunders, is hosting this high-profile event now simply to show strength, apply pressure, and test everyone's stance.

Hank falls silent for a moment, seeming to hesitate, then speaks anyway, "Mr. Learmond, when Ms. Hamilton was following this case before, she actually did quite solid preliminary work. The evidence chain was organized very clearly. Why was she suddenly transferred to Mr. Miller's side?"

He pauses, then adds, "Mr. Miller's work is indeed relatively more stable."

I turn my gaze to the dim streetlights rapidly receding outside the window, not answering.

Hank glances at me again in the rearview mirror, asking carefully, "Are you worried that if Ms. Hamilton continues following this case, she'll be in danger? Though Caspian's side doesn't seem particularly focused on her lately."

"She's not suited to my team's work pace." I finally speak.

"She's too easily influenced, not decisive enough."

Hank seems to mutter something under his breath, very quietly, but my hearing is good—I vaguely catch a few words.

"She seems timid on the surface, but works really hard. Can cry while still organizing files perfectly..."

I raise my eyes, looking at the rearview mirror.

Hank immediately shuts his mouth, focusing intently on the road ahead.

The car falls silent again.

After a long while, I suddenly speak.

"Hank, Ms. Hamilton..." I pause, my fingertips stopping their tapping on my knee.

"Does she really have a fiancé? That one in Shadow City, called Jonathan?"

Hank clearly didn't expect me to suddenly ask this. He quickly glances at me in the rearview mirror, scratching his head somewhat bewildered.

"Mr. Learmond, how would I know? I haven't asked about Ms. Hamilton's personal matters."

I look at his somewhat flustered face in the rearview mirror, saying nothing.

Under my gaze, Hank's pressure increases sharply. His Adam's apple bobs, and he quickly says, "I'll check! I'll have someone look into it right away!"

I give an almost imperceptible acknowledgment, turning my gaze back to the heavy darkness outside the window, saying nothing more.

Time passes quickly. Three days later, Emily pushes open my office door.

"Mr. Learmond, your private flight has been approved. You can depart for the West Coast tonight. Also..."

She pauses, glancing at my expression, then continues, "Ms. Hamilton has submitted a leave request."

"What's wrong with her?" I ask instinctively.

Then, realizing my reaction seems a bit too strong, I lower my head and add,

"If she wants leave and the reason is valid, just approve it. This kind of thing doesn't need my input. And Charles is her supervisor now anyway."

"I was thinking..." Emily seems about to say something, then closes her mouth.

"Alright, Mr. Learmond. I'll have HR handle it." Emily turns and leaves.

I lean back in my chair, slowly close my eyes, and rest my hand on my forehead.

Forty-five days. Except for that meeting three days ago, Matilda and I haven't seen each other at all.

Though we're in the same law firm, there's a long corridor between us, and Charles's department has a separate elevator.

So the world is small, yet also vast. If you really don't want to see someone, it's hard to run into them.

Actually, I know—she's avoiding me.

What she said to me that day still rings in my ears. I know she's eager to sever our relationship. Perhaps it's because her fiancé was about to come to Harmony City?

These past days have been like a dream, making me forget many details—like when she first came to the firm, she mentioned to Jasper that she had a fiancé in Shadow City.

I'd like to treat those days as an absurd dream too, but her cool lips and trembling body keep intruding into my mind at inappropriate moments.

I think I must be sick...