Chapter 279
Chapter 279
Margaret stood alone at center stage without notes, a massive screen behind her displaying the core data streams of "Dawn 5.0."
"The bottleneck of traditional energy isn't about reserves—it's about the trade-off between conversion efficiency and environmental costs."
Her voice carried clearly to every corner of the venue, calm and penetrating. "'Dawn 5.0' isn't about disruption, but fusion. It integrates conversion modules for multiple clean energy sources—solar, wind, tidal—into a highly intelligent management system that achieves dynamic optimal power distribution."
On stage, she was confident, composed, and logically precise.
When explaining those complex technical parameters, her eyes blazed with an almost burning intensity.
In her every gesture, there was no trace of the docile forbearance she'd once shown as the Neville family daughter-in-law—only the commanding presence of someone who ruled an emerging energy empire.
The launch was an unprecedented success.
When Margaret announced the opening of the first batch of collaborative licensing, the venue filled with the constant ringing of phones and clicking of keyboards as orders flooded the backend system like snowflakes.
During the final media Q&A session, a reporter called out loudly: "Ms. Kennedy, 'Margaret New Energy Group' has achieved such remarkable success in such a short time. Who would you most like to thank?"
It was a routine question, and a perfect opportunity to create headlines.
Margaret's gaze swept across the sea of heads below, across those constantly flashing cameras.
Finally, she smiled slightly—a smile both gracious and distant.
"I want to thank my team. It's their tireless dedication that turned a concept into reality. I also want to thank my family—they are my strongest support."
She paused, seemingly giving the media enough time to react.
Then she added, "Of course, most of all, I should thank this era. It has given us the opportunity to create a cleaner, more efficient future."
A perfect answer, flawless.
She had thanked everyone—except she hadn't mentioned that one name.
In the most inconspicuous corner of the venue's back row, Richard quietly watched the brilliant light radiating from her on stage.
That radiance stung his eyes, yet filled his chest with a strange mixture of bittersweet satisfaction.
She didn't need his protection to shine brilliantly.
This had once been his deepest fear. Now, it had become his only solace.
After the launch, news of Richard's conciliatory gesture quickly spread through their circles.
Neville Construction, Richard's flagship infrastructure company, had proactively taken on three energy station construction projects for "Margaret New Energy Group" in Africa and Asia.
These three projects were in remote locations with harsh environments and extremely difficult construction conditions. Due to complex local political factors, profit margins had been compressed below the industry freezing point.
No rational publicly traded company would touch such a hot potato.
But Neville Construction not only took them on—they pushed forward with an almost cost-blind approach.
They deployed their top engineering teams, utilized their most advanced equipment, and completed all main construction ahead of contract deadlines with quality far exceeding international excellence standards.
When the project acceptance report landed on Margaret's desk, her assistant carefully reported: "...Industry insiders are all saying that Mr. Neville is trying to curry favor with you, hoping to repair the relationship through this."
Margaret flipped through the report, its detailed data and images showcasing Neville Construction's impeccable professional capabilities.
She fell silent for a moment, then picked up the Parker Century fountain pen from her desk and unscrewed the cap.
The cool metal barrel pressed against her fingertip. She could almost feel that tiny ring of engraving inside the cap.
In the approval opinion column of the report, she wrote only: Pleasure doing business.
The handwriting was elegant, yet the strokes carried an undeniable force.
The assistant looked at those words, somewhat confused.
This reaction was too calm.
Margaret closed the report and handed it back: "File it according to procedure."
She offered no additional explanation, showed no personal emotion.
But only she knew that when writing those words, she had thought of many years ago, when he handed her this pen with those same words.
Times had changed, and their positions seemed to have reversed.
This time, the one saying "pleasure doing business" was her.
...
After autumn arrived, a once-in-decades super typhoon made landfall directly in the Riverbend City area.
Fierce winds carried torrential rain, ravaging this gentle ancient city of Riverbend City.
Even the Kennedy Manor's century of weathering storms couldn't completely withstand this natural disaster.
A corner of the courtyard wall had collapsed, and several old trees were uprooted and lay across the yard in complete chaos.
What broke Margaret's heart most was the orchid greenhouse she had just finished restoring.
Several glass panels of the roof had been shattered by wind-blown branches, cold rainwater poured in, and those precious orchids swayed helplessly in the storm.
She threw on a raincoat and directed several servants to cover the greenhouse's damaged openings with heavy tarpaulin, attempting a last-ditch rescue.
The wind was too strong, the rain too fierce. The tarp had barely been laid when the gale ripped it away—impossible to secure.
Rainwater lashed her face, ice-cold and piercing, blurring her vision completely.
Just then, the harsh screech of brakes and the roar of car engines cut through the howling wind and rain.
A black Bentley stopped at the Kennedy Manor gate. The car door was flung open.
Richard stepped out, not even bothering with an umbrella.
He wore only a thin dress shirt and was soaked through almost the instant he stepped from the car.
Rainwater streamed down his neat short hair, outlining his sharp features.
His usually immaculate shirt now clung wetly to his body, revealing the firm, taut muscle lines beneath.
Behind him followed more than a dozen heavy construction vehicles and trucks loaded with supplies.
He ignored the construction crew leaders who rushed to report to him, walking straight through the collapsed courtyard wall toward the depths of the garden.
His stride was quick, splashing through muddy puddles and sending up sprays of water.
Margaret heard the commotion and instinctively turned around.
Their eyes met.
She was still in the position of reaching up to grab the tarp, rainwater streaming down her cheeks and jaw in rivulets.
And he stood there, twenty feet away, completely drenched, his deep eyes fixed unblinkingly on her through the storm.
In that gaze surged the anxiety and fear she knew so well.
Wind roared, rain shrieked, broken branches made sickening snapping sounds.
The construction fleet behind Richard moved like a well-trained army, quickly taking control of the scene.
Professional engineers began assessing damage, the roar of heavy machinery replacing the howl of wind and rain.
But he himself acted as if he saw none of them, his gaze never leaving Margaret.
He walked to her side and reached out, wanting to wipe the rainwater from her face, but his fingers froze mid-air.
In the end, he only took that heavy, futile tarp from her hands.