Mr. Jones beamed, revealing two rows of yellow teeth, "That's great, let's not choose a date and hit whatever comes. How about tonight? Just follow me later, and I'll take you home in the evening."
Such unspoken insinuations were not uncommon in drinking settings. For business, people would shove in money and women, and in desperation, even wives could be offered up.
Amelia Clarke's face turned pale as she stared blankly at Isaac Taylor. Despite the abundant warmth from the heating in the private room, she felt a bone-chilling cold envelop her.
She bit her lip and couldn't help but object, "I'm sorry, Mr. Jones, but our school has strict curfews, and I need to return early."
Mr. Jones felt he lost face being rejected in public and grew upset, "What? Is talking with me so beneath you? Who do you think you are? You should count yourself lucky that I fancy you. Don't be ungrateful! You're just after money, right? I'm loaded, I can give you as much as you want!"
Mr. Jones had seen plenty of college students like her, who acted superior but enjoyed playing hard to get. In the end, when they saw money, wouldn't they just do whatever was asked of them?
Just then.
Owen Moreland, who had been sitting quietly in the host seat smoking, stood up.
The moment he rose, everyone quickly stood as well, and the previously noisy private room fell silent, the atmosphere turning somber.
A respectful 'Mr. Moreland' echoed wherever Owen passed by.
Mr. Jones and Isaac Taylor were not considered high-status there; their seats were arranged far from the host seat.
Their attention had long shifted away from Amelia Clarke.
Owen Moreland walked up to Amelia Clarke. He was tall, seemingly around one meter eighty-nine, and easily cast a shadow over her in the overhead light.
"You look somewhat familiar. Which school are you from?"
A deep, magnetic voice floated down from above. Amelia Clarke looked up, puzzled by his sudden action and question, but she knew she couldn't afford to offend him. She couldn't even offend Mr. Jones, let alone Owen Moreland, whom even Mr. Jones dared not provoke.
"Bordine University," she honestly replied.
"What a coincidence, I'm also a graduate of Bordine University. We are alumni," said Owen Moreland, turning his head to Isaac Taylor. "This junior of mine, you should take good care of her. Bordine University produces talents."
He spoke with a casual tone, but his words brooked no resistance.
After speaking, he swept his sharp gaze around the room, "I've got a date with friends for a night golf session. Anyone interested?"
After he asked, who would dare not to be interested?
Owen Moreland was the first to leave the private room, and the others hurriedly followed suit. Yet, each person gave Amelia Clarke a peculiar look before leaving, especially Mr. Jones, who gazed at her as if calamity loomed.
Amelia Clarke was not foolish. She understood that Owen Moreland's mention of being alumni was clearly to bail her out. After he spoke his piece, Mr. Jones actually walked around her, not to mention engaging in deeper interaction.
But why?
Amelia Clarke stepped out of the hotel. Capital City's night was bitterly cold, not long after the New Year had passed.
She didn't delude herself into thinking Owen Moreland took a fancy to her. How could a man like him, of such high status and stern demeanor, possibly take a liking to a girl like her, who was hardly grown up?
Dingling.
Her phone's message alert sounded.
Amelia Clarke breathed on her frozen hands, pulling her phone out of her bag. It was a text from Isaac Taylor.
—— Amelia, your uncle was truly helpless tonight. Your mom fell down the stairs a couple of days ago and broke her leg; she needs money. My company has also run into some trouble lately. Mr. Jones's project is crucial for the company, and I was just a bit anxious thinking about your mom's leg. Considering how your uncle has always looked after you, your mom, and your brother, please don't be mad at me. When I'm free, I'll take you out for some nice food and buy you beautiful clothes, alright?
Amelia Clarke read each word very carefully.
But with each word, her heart grew colder.
Her mother had always been plagued with illness, and a couple of days ago, she broke her leg, adding insult to injury; her younger brother's mind was damaged by a childhood illness and he needed to attend a special school; and for her, attending university was very expensive. Her entire family had been barely getting by with her uncle's help, and she didn't even have the right to be angry and question it.
With slender fingers, she tapped a few times on her phone screen and sent a text message to Isaac Taylor.
——I know, thank you, Uncle.
Beep! Beep!
The sound of a shrill horn came from behind her.
Amelia Clarke looked down at her phone and stepped aside.
Beep! Beep!
The honking continued.
Amelia looked up and saw a black Cayenne stopped in front of her, the car window rolled down, and a plump man's face peering out.
"Hello, I'm Mr. Moreland's assistant, Benjamin Richardson. Mr. Moreland instructed me to give you a ride home, please get in the car."
Amelia was somewhat astonished and felt a warning bell sound inside her; Owen had been helping her repeatedly and she always felt it was inappropriate. Without thinking, she blurted out a refusal, "Thank you, but I don't need it. The subway station is just ahead, I can take the subway home."
Benjamin got out of the car and stood there, looking serious, "I'm simply following Mr. Moreland's instructions. Please cooperate and don't make things difficult for me."
His serious demeanor resembled Owen's.
It seemed that the qualities of a subordinate reflected those of their supervisor.
Seeing Benjamin's 'you're getting in the car whether you like it or not' stance, Amelia considered it for two seconds and then got into the car.
The vehicle quickly merged into the flow of traffic.
Time and again, Benjamin glanced at the rearview mirror, seeming like he wanted to say something, while Amelia just stared at the nightscape outside the car window.
"Um..." Benjamin finally broke the silence and asked, "How should I address you?"
"My last name is Clarke," Amelia responded, somewhat reservedly.
Benjamin didn't mind, "When did you get to know our Mr. Moreland?"
It wasn't that he was nosy, but having been with Owen for ten years, this was the first time Owen had ever asked him to drive a woman home, especially a young girl he'd never seen before, and he was curious.
"I don't know him." Amelia was telling the truth. Although Owen Moreland's name was well-known, and she had heard of him and knew of him, they were not acquainted. In fact, tonight was the first time she had seen him.
"You don't know him?" Benjamin exclaimed in surprise, then realized he was overreacting. Clearing his throat, he tried to regain his composure, "Do you know why Mr. Moreland helped you out of your predicament?"
Amelia was taken aback, "Why?"
She wanted to know as well.
Trying to appear calm, Benjamin replied, "You don't know either? I thought you did."
Amelia: "..." She had thought he knew too.
The car soon stopped at the entrance of Bordine University.
Amelia thanked him and pushed the car door open to get out.
Benjamin squinted, studying Amelia's retreating figure from behind. The girl was around twenty, with a tall, slender figure, dressed in a flaxen tweed coat that seemed too thin, her simple ponytail swishing playfully with every step, radiating youthfulness and vitality.
She was a beautiful girl in the prime of her years, with a clean and pure aura, and he mentally gave her a fair assessment.