Maxwell woke up, it was already past three in the afternoon. He rubbed his sore waist from sleeping and decided to go downstairs for some exercise. Maxwell was a reporter, a reporter for a small
entertainment newspaper. He supported his wife and children with his meager salary. They weren't
starving, but it was difficult to improve their quality of life.
Maxwell had stayed up all night again, writing a gossip piece about a famous star being kept by someone. Of course, he hadn't witnessed the affair himself; he had just overheard some rumors. That was enough; he could use this to exchange for a few hundred USD in manuscript fees. His child had wanted that Transformer toy for a long time, so he would buy it for him today after getting paid.
As soon as he went downstairs, he was attracted by a scene in the courtyard.
It was an azure Maserati, with elegant, flowing lines, a supreme crown logo, and luxurious interior fittings. Its noble lineage and expensive price tag made it stand out from the crowd. In front of the
other Hondas, Toyotas, and Hyundais, it was like a phoenix standing among chickens.
Maxwell thought and thought, but still couldn't figure out which family in this small courtyard could afford such a car, or even have relatives who owned such a car. Otherwise, they wouldn't be living
in such old, soon-to-be-demolished tube-shaped buildings.
Out of professional habit, he always carried a camera with him when he went out, even when his
wife asked him to go downstairs to buy a bag of salt.
A good professional reporter should understand that news has the characteristics of suddenness and timeliness. Just like those beautiful fireworks, if you don't capture them when they bloom to their highest point, you will never have the chance again.
Maxwell pressed the shutter first and took a few pictures of the Maserati. Then he hid the camera
and pretended to be exercising while waiting for his prey.
Not long after, a couple came down from the tube-shaped building where he lived, catching his attention. No, to be more precise, it was the woman who caught his attention.
The man's name was Ethan Wraith, a very interesting young man who always had a smile on his
face. He knew this person, and he wouldn't believe this car was his even if you beat him to death.
But the woman who was following Ethan, trying to hide herself, could be the owner of the car.
She was wearing a fashionable business suit with a specially designed collar and a white silk scarf as an embellishment, which was both individual and less heavy. Her smooth hair cascaded over her
shoulders, and she wore a pair of high-heeled leather shoes, walking with a graceful and charming gait. Wearing a pair of wide-brimmed tea-colored sunglasses, she kept turning her head and looking around, as if she was afraid of being discovered.
Ethan looked at Taylor White, who was hiding behind him and dodging, and said angrily, "What are you doing? Walk with your head held high, you know? The neighbors will think I'm taking a
prostitute back to the hotel."
"Humph, a dog's mouth can't spit out ivory." Taylor rolled her eyes.
"Can you spit it out?"
"Go to hell, hurry up and go, it'll be fine once we're in the car." Taylor urged.
Opening the car door, Taylor quickly got in. She rolled down the window, took off her sunglasses,
and said to Ethan with a smile, "I still don't know your name."
"That's just right, I don't know your name either." Ethan shrugged indifferently.
No matter how beautiful a woman is, she has nothing to do with him. After parting today, they will never meet again in this life. He and she are people from two different worlds, just a one-night stand—Damn, Ethan got angry when he thought of this. He had deliberately pretended to be asleep last night, trying to lower the woman's guard, and then when she lay down on the bed, he would accidentally touch her leg and kiss her cheek or something. He didn't expect her to stand there for a long time and then pull out a mat and sleep on the floor like that all night. The first thing Ethan did when he woke up, feeling deeply hurt, was to run to the mirror. He clearly looked very honest.
Taylor stared at him with her big round eyes and said angrily, "Hey, you're a very rude man. I clearly told you my name, and you forgot it so quickly."
"You told me?" Ethan touched his nose with his hand and said with a wry smile, "I really can't remember."
"Humph, I'll say it again, my name is Taylor—White—remember it?" Taylor elongated her name word by word and repeated it again.
"Oh, I remember. Taylor White, right. White? Are you not a black singer?"
"Go to hell." Taylor grabbed a small animal ornament next to her and threw it at Ethan. "I'm leaving, hurry up and tell me your name! You took me in last night, and I will repay you in the future."
Ethan waved his hand. "No need, no need. I took you in, and you paid. We're even. We don't owe
each other anything."
"Hey, why are you so wishy-washy as a big man? It's just a name, is there anything you can't say? You're such a cheapskate."
Ethan smiled wryly at this woman who was so beautiful that her every frown and smile was radiant, and a feeling of reluctance spread in his heart. "My name is Ethan Wraith. Wraith like a ghost."
Taylor smiled sweetly, like a child who had gotten candy. "What's your phone number?"
Ethan gave her his number, and Taylor rummaged through her bag, took out a small, stylish mobile phone, and entered Ethan's number.
"Then—goodbye." Taylor smiled and waved to Ethan, but her heart was a little heavy.
"Okay. Next time you come to NYC and have nowhere to stay, call me-don't worry, it's still the same price, I won't raise the price." Ethan smiled and waved.
Taylor was overjoyed when she heard the first half of the sentence, but almost vomited blood when she heard the second half. She glared at Ethan fiercely, stepped on the gas, and the car sped out of the courtyard.
"Oops." Ethan patted his head. "It's over, I forgot to ask her for the shirt money. What a loss."
Ethan stood there for a while, and when the car was no longer in sight, he was ready to go back and catch up on his sleep. He still had to go to work at night.
The phone in his pocket beeped. He took it out and saw that it was a text message from an
unknown number. "Will we meet again?"
Ethan thought for a while and replied seriously, "I don't know."
After both of them left, Maxwell came out from a corner of the courtyard with an excited expression on his face, his hand holding the camera trembling.
"Taylor White—It's actually Taylor White—Taylor White came to NYC—and had a private meeting with her lover—I'm going to make a fortune—"